The Collector Novels & Stories

--The End-- A/N: We have reached the end of the Debt Collector. Thank you so much for reading you guys! I love you all so much <3 <3 <3. Please check out my other completed stories My boss is clueless and The Bad Boy's Problem (Nate and Amelia's story).

Who was I kidding? Running wasn't an option either. No one runs from the Russian Bratva. If it were possible, a lot of people would have succeeded. But no one can run from the Bravta and no one can run from the collector. He was a hound dog. I've been cautious enough to know that's it's a useless act and those who did never lived to tell the tale. The sound of my heartbeat pounded loudly in my ears and I managed to find my voice. “Yes. You're the collector.” My stomach tightens as the chair creaks under his weight and my response. “You’re here to collect… my debt.”

Time: 10 PM Dress code: Formal(Tuxedos only) On the bottom was another P.S. - Come alone, or she dies. The Obsidian Estate. I knew that name. Everyone in the underworld knew that name. It belonged to a man, a faceless crime lord called The collector. No one knew his real name. The government had been trying to catch him for years, but he was like smoke. Always one step ahead. "This is a trap," Levi said unnecessarily. “You and the collector have bad blood after that failed deal so why would you get an invite if it isn't a trap?”

"A Thorne never accepts the first bid. And a Scavenger never pays for what he can take by force." "You have no force, Leo," the Collector hissed, the black lightning on his cane intensifying. "You have a warehouse full of starving refugees and a wife who is half-static. You are a liquidated stock." "I have the System-Key," Leo countered. The Collector froze. The red lights of the debt-collector droids flickered.

Elara said. "How many?" "A dozen. Maybe more." Ronan's silver light pulsed. "We can take them." "Remember what Clara said. Don't engage." "She's not here." Elara grabbed his arm. "Ronan, if we die here, we can't warn the pack." He hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. We go back." But as they turned to leave, a figure emerged from the cave. He was older than Elara had expected—gray fur, tired eyes, a scar across his muzzle. The Collector. He moved slowly, deliberately, as if he had all the time in the world.

It was made of delicate, white paper, intricately folded. Lina picked it up. It unfolded itself in her hands, not into a bird, but into a geometrically perfect, silent origami of a bird. And tucked inside was a business card. The card was heavy stock, flawlessly white. In embossed, elegant font, it read: THE COLLECTORS Acquisition & Curation of Singular Moments No Moment Too Small Below, in smaller print: By Appointment Only.

I am secretary to my boss Michael, he has high self-esteem, he was also a cold and ruthless billionaire boss, and is loyal to his girlfriend. I once spied on them having a good time, it was intentional at first but I just couldn’t leave. He didn’t mix work with pleasure, they just had a short go that day.

The specific ordinary alive texture of Tripicity going about its business. "The collector," she said. "What do you know about him." "Anonymous. That's standard for pre-completion acquisitions. Why are you asking about the collector." "Do you know who arranged it. Who approached you." "A representative. Very professional. Came through the gallery's normal acquisition channels, everything above board." Sol paused. "Occy. What happened at the opening. You disappeared, went dark for three days, now you're asking about the collector from what sounds like a payphone. What is going on."

His attention was fixed on the three Collectors. They didn't carry themselves like soldiers. They weren't tense. They weren't preparing for battle. They stood with the quiet confidence of people who had already calculated the outcome. The Collector in the center lowered his porcelain mask ever so slightly, as though studying Adrian rather than threatening him. "We hoped your family line had ended with Thomas." His voice was calm. Almost courteous. "But history has disappointed us again." Adrian instinctively reached for the brass key beneath his coat. It had become warm enough to feel alive.