The Collector Novels & Stories

He gritted, “ His greed nearly cost me a shipment last time.” “And yet,” Domenico pressed, sliding the card into his coat pocket. “He’s the only man who can trace Rafael’s buyers. This is how we cut off this pest, do it, call him.” “Call who?” Aria’s face pulled into confusion, “I mean, if he’s that good then maybe you should call him. But who is he?” Lucian let out a soft exhale, “Gianni Calogero, II collezionista” (The collector)

files, maps, phones I unlocked a drawer and pulled out a secret phone. I only use this phone to talk to dangerous people who do not exist on official records. Black Tide. That name was heavy in my mind. I had not dealt with them in years. They were patient, quiet, and very dangerous. They were ghosts who only attacked when they could make a profit. They were debt collectors and killers. If they took Gideon, they were using him to control the situation. I looked through my secret contacts. My thumb paused once. Then again. I selected a number.

"Show me where the contract changed." The grin on Marcus's face disappeared. "What?" "The payment schedule." Adam tapped the table. "You said things changed." "I did." "Show me." Marcus remained silent. Adam nodded. "Thought so." The large collector finally spoke. "Listen here—" “Quiet.” The collector blinked. "What?" Adam finally looked at him. "You don't look smart enough to be part of this conversation." The tired collector immediately started coughing to hide his laughter. The large man's face darkened.

This wasn’t… The date for his heat wasn’t even close, so why was this happening? There was no way he could get the roots needed for his suppressant tea, not out here in the wild with… The collector nearest to Evren narrowed his eyes at him as he rose. "You—" Evren’s pulse sharpens as the collector closes the distance between them, looming over Evren with eyes that spell confusion and hunger. Evren lowered his shaking head, sinking his ass deeper into the cold snow as he prayed his body didn’t betray him for once. But has his body ever listened to him?

One hand rubbed my back in slow circles. "Breathe," he whispered. "I've got you." My face stayed buried in his neck, cheeks burning. The aftershocks still fluttered inside me. His scent filled my head. I felt small and safe and completely wrecked all at once. His phone buzzed on the counter. Once. Twice. He ignored it at first, kissing my hair. Then he glanced over, and his body went rigid. "Damien?" I pulled back enough to see his face. He picked up the phone, thumb scrolling. His jaw tightened. "The collectors. They're coming tomorrow night. Want proof the collateral is... secured."

"From the southern kingdoms. They passed through New Dawn. They heard the stories about the 'family on the hill' and the 'boy who heals.' They didn't see it as a curse. They saw it as an opportunity." "Opportunity for what?" Ashiel demanded. "For power," Finn said, his eyes wide. "There's a man. A lord, or a merchant prince, they weren't sure. His name is Theron. He is... a collector. Not of art, but of rare things. Magical things. He has agents everywhere. They call them 'Acquirers.'" A collector. The word made Liora's skin crawl. "The story of a child who can shape reality itself... it would be the prize of his collection," Finn finished, his voice heavy with dread.

"He referred them to someone else. A collector who specialises in lunar artifacts." "Who?" Casie pressed, leaning forward. "Victor Krane. Private collection in Westbrook Heights." Valeria withdrew the instrument, its silver surface now stained with a hint of red. "The Magpie left immediately after extracting this information." Rick was already checking the name on his phone. "Victor Krane, 62, retired investment banker with a reputation for eccentric collecting habits. No criminal record, but several complaints from auction houses about aggressive bidding tactics." "We need to get to him before the Magpie does," Casie decided, already moving toward the stairs.

THE MOTHER IS ARCHIVED. The floorboards beneath Leo began to ripple—not with mercury, but with a clinical silver-gray light. The 'Watcher Reality' was expanding, the sterile geometry of Sector Zero beginning to overwrite the Grand Hall’s basalt pillars. [INITIATING: THE SECONDARY HARVEST. PREPARING: CORTICAL EXTRACTION OF THE REMAINDER.] The bone-white claw of the Collector vessel, still wedged in the ceiling, didn't pull back. It didn't retract. It began to hum, a high-frequency vibration that targeted the black wires in my chest.

“Don’t insult either of us.” He frowned slightly, confused. “You want the virgin daughter of Charles Vantorel because it turns you on. You get off on the idea of taking what no one else has had. Or maybe you just like the idea of ruining something untouched.” I leaned in, eyes sharp. “You’re a collector. Not a lover.” His mask slipped for a split second—his jaw twitched—but then he recovered with a chuckle. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

A collectible hunter was a special name for a person dealing in the business of buying and selling collectibles. The nickname existed because this kind of person was able to see different prices and meanings for each collectible based on the customer. Collectibles were not cheap, and their dealers were usually pretty well off. Jiro was undoubtedly a rich man, and some of his customers did not care much about money. However, they definitely cared about how they looked to others. The collectible hunter would play the game of finding out the best price the customer could offer. This would show how much the customer cared about the collectible, and the seller would be able to make a good amount