The Pack's Engineer

The steering wheel was slippery under my hands. I didn't care about the rain or the speed limit. I have to get to the hospital., and every second feels like forever. I pushed the gas pedal harder. The hospital was only five minutes away. Suddenly, a black car pulled out of a side street. I slammed on my brakes, but it was too late. My old car slammed into the side of the sleek, shiny vehicle. The sound of metal crushing metal filled the air. I sat there for a second, my head throbbing. I had some bruises on my arms and face and I was shaking. I pushed my door open and stepped out into the drizzling rain, still shaking. The door of the black car opened. A very tall, well-built man stepped out. He looked powerful, like someone who controls empires. He was expensively dressed and putting on shades. He walked toward the side of his car to look at the damage. The passenger door was completely caved in. I walked toward him shaking, barely standing. "I am so sorry," I said, my voice cracking. "I am so, so sorry." The man turned to look at me. He was incredibly handsome. He looked at me closely, his brows pulling together. He seemed to recognize me from somewhere, but he didn't say it. "Apologizing will not repair my car," he snapped. His voice was deep and full of anger. "I know," I whispered. I looked at the hospital down the road. "I will pay for it. I promise. Just... how much will it cost to fix?" The man didn't answer me. He looked at a man in a suit who had stepped out of the other side of the car. "Marcus," the man said. "What is the estimate?" The assistant looked at a tablet in his hand and then at the damaged door. "Sir, because of the custom tech and the state-of-the-art materials, the repairs will likely be 6 million dollars." My heart stopped. I felt like I couldn't breathe. "Six million?" I gasped. "I... I don't have that kind of money." "Then you should have been more careful," the man said, stepping closer to me. He towered over me, his presence suffocating. I looked at him, tears welling in my eyes. "Please, I am in a hurry..l. I have to go." He stared at me for a long moment. His expression didn't soften. "You aren't going anywhere until I know exactly how you are going to pay the money." I stood there in the cold, my chest aching. The hospital was so close, but this man was standing in my way like a mountain. "I don't have six million dollars," I said, my voice shaking. "But I will pay you. I'll pay in installments. Every cent I earn, I'll send it to you. Please, I just need to get to the hospital." He looked at me. He didn't seem like the type of man who waited for monthly payments, but he didn't look away either. That faint look of recognition was still there, hidden behind his cold expression. "Installments," he repeated. The word sounded like a joke coming from his lips. "Yes. Anything. Just let me go," I pleaded. He turned to his assistant, Marcus. "The contract. The one for high-liability settlements." Marcus reached into a leather briefcase and pulled out a single sheet of paper. He handed it to Him, who stepped closer to me. The powerful scent of forest hit me. I was too disorganized to really get a perfect scent. "Sign this," He said. "It states that you owe me six million dollars and that you will follow my terms for repayment. If you miss a single payment, I own everything you have." "I don't have a pen," I said, looking at the paper. My hands were trembling so hard I couldn't even hold it straight. He looked at the small cut on my temple where I had hit the steering wheel. A drop of blood was trickling down my face. "You don't need a pen," he whispered. His voice was low and sent a shiver down my spine. "Sign it with your blood," he commanded. "Six million," I whispered, looking from the paper to the towering man in front of me. "I'll give you everything I have." He stepped closer. "I don't have time for a lifetime of small payments." My heart jumped. I just needed to get to Leo… "I will find a way," I insisted. "Fine," He said, his voice cold and sharp. "Three installments. Two million dollars every month until the debt is settled." I felt the air leave my lungs. "Two million? In a month? All the money I make goes to Leo, how am I going to get two million dollars for a damaged car..I.." "And the first installment," he interrupted my thoughts, "is due in exactly three days. If you don't have two million dollars in my account by then, the contract is breached." "Three days? That’s impossible!" "Nothing is impossible when you owe a debt to me," he replied. He gestured to the paper. "Sign it. Now." I looked at the cut on my arm from the glass. A thick drop of blood was pooling there. Without a word, I pressed my finger into the wound and dragged the red smear across the signature line. It was a messy, crimson mark, but it was done. He took the paper from me, his eyes tracking the movement of my hand. "Three days," he warned. "Don't do anything fishy and don't be late." He stepped aside, finally clearing the path to my car. I scrambled into the driver's seat, my mind a mess. "Six million dollars" and "three days." As I sped toward the hospital, I could still feel the weight of his gaze on the back of my neck.