The Debt Collector

Like a drumbeat marching towards my demise, the sound of heavy footsteps reverberated in the confined hallway, methodical and harsh. Something like panic replaced my father's customary arrogant confidence as his gaze darted towards the doorway. I saw a small tightening of his jaw, although it was subtle. The man who walked into the room caught me off guard. He was tall, and his broad shoulders were encircled by a sleek black suit that radiated might and riches. The way his icy-blue eyes scanned the room made me feel vulnerable, like if he could see into every dark corner of my life in an instant. His presence filled the room like a rising storm, and not a single strand of his dark hair was out of place. Levi Alexander. Although I had heard the name, I didn't know him. Everybody had. He was more than simply a man; among the city's shadowiest nooks and crannies, he was a legend. A mafia boss who used brutality and terror to establish his empire.

And now, he was here.

“Mr. Levi,” my father said, his voice unnervingly cheerful as he straightened his posture. “You’re here.”

Alexander’s gaze shifted to my father, his expression unreadable. “You did a good job hiding from me all this years”

His voice was smooth, cold, and controlled, with an edge that warned against testing him. My father laughed nervously, wringing his hands together like a desperate man trying to charm his executioner.

“No, of course not,” my father stammered. “You’ll find I’ve kept my end of the bargain.”

Bargain. The word twisted in my stomach like a knife. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Alexander as he stepped further into the room, his movements deliberate and calculated. He didn’t look at me—yet—but the weight of his presence made it impossible to breathe.

“Is that so?” Alexander asked, his tone laced with skepticism. “You’ve been dodging my calls foryears, and now you suddenly have what you owe?”

My father’s nervous chuckle grated on my ears. “Well, not in cash, per se. But I have something just as valuable.” His hand gestured toward me, and my blood turned to ice.

Following the movement, Alexander's gaze followed the movement and finally found me. His unwavering, keen look was like a razor. He didn't flinch or blink, and I could feel the pressure of his inspection pressing down on me like a weight. “Her?” As though I were a thing to be evaluated, the word from his lips with a dispassionate interest.

My father stepped closer to him, lowering his voice slightly. “She’s my daughter, Dysis. A beautiful girl. Young, obedient. She will be worth every cent I owe, plus more.

As my father's words took hold, the room whirled around me. He wasn't merely trying to sell me. He was attempting to make me seem like a prize in order to sweeten the sale. Anger and sadness were mixed together in equal measure in my gut.

Alexander took a while to reply. His gaze remained fixed on me while he evaluated and calculated. At my sides, my hands were balled into fists, but I dared not move. I was afraid to breathe.

At last, he added in an emotionless voice, "She's trembling." "Is she scared of me or of you?"

“Both, I imagine,” my father said with a forced laugh, though I noticed the tremor in his hands. “But that’s nothing a man like you can’t handle.”

Alexander’s gaze narrowed slightly, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his expression. Disgust? Amusement? I couldn’t tell. He turned back to my father, his movements slow and deliberate.

“You think offering me a trembling girl absolves you of your debt?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm.

My father froze, his smile faltering. “Mr. Levi, I—”

“Silence.” My father instantly clenched his jaws shut as the single phrase sliced through the air like a whip. Alexander moved towards him, looming over him like a predator assessing its victim.

“You owe me a substantial sum, Salmon,” Alexander continued, his voice low but lethal. “A debt you’ve neglected for far too long. You’ve had ample time to repay it, yet here you are, offering me your daughter like some desperate fool. Do you think I deal in desperation?”

My father was about to respond, but he remained silent. My heartbeat quickened as Alexander's eyes met mine again. My feet were frozen in place, and I wanted to scream and run. "Dysis, do you know what kind of man your father is?" His eyes instantly met mine as he enquired. My spine tingled when I heard my name on his lips. I was unsure of how to react. He might not have even wanted an answer, in my opinion. My father interrupted, his voice faltering, "Of course she does.” “She’s—”

“Did I tell you to speak?” Alexander’s tone was sharp, cutting my father off mid-sentence.

The ensuing hush was oppressive. My father's face flushed with shame, but he dared not speak again.

Alexander took a step towards me while maintaining eye contact.

He moved with assurance that was both frightening and alluring. Even though my body screamed at me to turn away, I forced myself to gaze into his eyes."Dysis, would you like to be here?" His voice had become lower, almost compassionate, as he enquired.

The question caught me off guard. I blinked, my throat tightening. What kind of question was that? Did it matter what I wanted? My father had already made his choice.

“I—” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard, trying to steady it. “Not here and not with you either.”

Alexander’s lips curved into the faintest smirk, though his eyes remained cold. “Honest. I respect that.”

“You’ll like her,” my father said, his voice a blend of forced confidence and desperation. “She’s obedient. Quiet. A real prize, Mr. Levi.”

My ears rang, his words fading into noise as the room closed in on me. My claws pushed into the tattered fabric of my skirt, and my pulse raced like a frantic drum in my chest. Obedient. Quiet. I felt like I was just a commodity to be weighed and exchanged. Alexander Levi did not respond soon away. He stood in the centre of the room, his back straight and his posture tight, emanating might and danger. His icy-blue eyes moved between my father and me, appraising the situation with a coolness that made him even more horrifying. "Is that what you think of her?" he finally questioned, his tone distant. He didn't look at me as he talked, as if I didn't deserve to be addressed directly. “A prize?”

My father chuckled nervously, rubbing his hands together. “She’s young and strong. She can be molded, taught. Whatever you need her to be.”

A wave of nausea hit me, but I didn’t move. I wouldn’t give my father the satisfaction of seeing me break. My hands trembled against my will, and I gritted my teeth, locking my knees to stay upright.

Alexander turned his gaze to me then, pinning me in place with an intensity that made my breath catch. It wasn’t just the coldness in his eyes; it was the weight of his scrutiny, as if he were peeling back layers to see what lay beneath.

“And what do you think of this arrangement, Dysis?” he asked, his voice smooth but devoid of warmth.

I didn’t answer. What was the point? This wasn’t about me. It never had been.

“Answer him!” my father barked, his face darkening with anger. “Show some respect.”

I snapped my head toward him, my body moving before my brain caught up. “Respect? For what?” My voice shook, but the words spilled out anyway. “For selling me to settle your gambling debts? For treating me like—like property?”

His hand flew before I could react, the sharp crack of his palm against my cheek silencing me. Pain flared, hot and immediate, and I stumbled back, clutching my face. The room spun as tears welled up, but I swallowed them down, refusing to let them fall.

Alexander moved then, his steps deliberate as he closed the distance between himself and my father. The tension in the room thickened, every breath weighted with something unspoken.

“If you lay a hand on her again,” Alexander said quietly, his voice colder than I thought possible, “you’ll regret it.”