The Collector Toh Novels & Stories

“And here you are.” Noah’s stomach twisted. “You don’t own me.” “Don’t I?” Blackwell leaned back in his chair, calm. “If I told you to kneel right now, you would.” Noah’s throat went dry. He hated the way his body reacted, heat already pooling low. “You’re sick.” “And you’re mine.” The air was heavy, silence pressing in around them. Noah’s heart thumped so hard he swore Blackwell could hear it. Finally Noah snapped, stepping forward, slamming his palms on the desk. “I’m not your toy. You can’t keep using me like this. I’m not—”

“So tell me, who’s going to pay me back?” My grip on the plate faltered. “I… I don’t—” “You?” he pressed, not letting me finish. “Because as far as I see, you’re still bearing his name. Carrying his debts. His failures. And if that company isn’t enough…” He leaned in, his voice low and merciless. “…then maybe it’s you I’ll collect from.” The words made my heart stumble. My throat went dry, but I forced myself to whisper, “What happened to you wanting to help?”

He straightened slowly and turned to face the room, his chest rising and falling as he fought to steady himself. “I’m not getting weak,” he said lowly. “And I’m not letting a whore cloud my judgment.” His eyes moved from one face to the other. “In case any of you are forgetting, I am Rico De Romano. Capo of the Five Territories. Head of I Sette.” The words weren’t just for them. They sounded like a reminder to himself most of all. He spared Valentina a brief, cold look as she remained on the floor, still coughing. Then his gaze returned to Ezio and Sandro.

” Theo explained in a rushed tone. “It is just a tattoo, Theo!” Mia finally shouted, looking up with red-rimmed eyes. She was trying so hard to believe what she was saying, even though deep down she knew how wrong she was. “You’re just looking for reasons to hate him! Leo doesn't know anything about mercenaries!” “Mia, listen to me!” Theo countered, his voice rising. “The man with the tattoo... he called Leo’s dad ‘The Commander.’ And we just found that symbol in Thorne’s book. It’s the mark of the Collectors.”

“Do you have a death wish?” “He’s just a man.” “That’s not a man. That’s a hostile acquisition in a tux.” She raised a brow, only half-listening. “Do you know who he is?” “Cassian Wolfe. CEO of Wolfe Enterprises. Also known as Don’t touch, don’t talk, don’t tempt.” She turned her glass slowly in her fingers, the stem catching the gold light. “Well, I already did all three.” Emilio groaned. “Z, listen to me. That man’s family runs things under the things. Syndicates, offshore accounts, private holdings, shell companies—he’s not rich, he’s untouchable.”

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.

"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.

He might have fooled majority of his subjects but I know for a fact that he is busy doing something nasty. I suddenly feel pity for his mate. His mate is probably out there alone and waiting for him and yet here he is playing with other females like a total jerk he his. I was snapped out of my thoughts when my father cleared his throat. I hooked my arm on his cause I will need a support to help me walk properly with this heels. We then proceed to make our way to the makeshift stage at the pack house's backyard with Beta Matheo trailing behind us. Beta Matheo, the son of Beta Michael and Beta Female Corrine, he is two years older than me, meaning he was in school when the attacked happened 2

A glass had pierced into my toe leaving a small cut, and the steaming liquid splashed onto my feet burning through my skin. “Merde!” I cursed wincing at the burning on my skin. I needed to clean up before it caused further injury. I stood to leave, carefully avoiding the shattered pieces of glass and the already spilled coffee. But halfway through the sitting room, the news reporter's voice caught my attention, and all the thoughts about cleaning up ran to the back room of my mind. INTERVIEW WITH THE LEGITIMATE HEIR TO THE HOUSE OF THE WINTERS! With my legs glued to the floor, I watched with intensity at the man in front of the screen, he had a black fedora on which did well to hide his look

I said softly, my voice thick with emotion. I gestured to the walls, to the photo on the desk. "David... you kept all of this? Even the small stuff?"He walked toward me, not bothered by his state of undress. He looked at the photo, then back at me. "I told you. You were the only reason I bothered coming into that office. Every time I had to make a hard decision, every time the Board or my Father pushed me to be someone I wasn't, I’d look at these. They reminded me that integrity actually exists.""Now you see the full extent of the obsession. Are you running for the hills yet?""No," I whispered, stepping into his space, the heat from his shower still radiating off him. "I'm just realizing th