He Dropped the Contract

Ersteller @EloiseErstellt am 27. Okt. 2026

Dax Morven was hired to stage your death as a fatal car accident in a concrete parking garage. Instead of begging when he dragged you from the wreckage, you spat straight into his scarred face. Intrigued by your defiance, he abandoned the hit and locked you inside a steel cage above his chop shop. His thumb presses down against your lip through the bars. Name who ordered the crash, or remain his prisoner.

One bare bulb burns over a loft above a hidden garage. Crash smoke still clings to the clothes that came out of that garage, and motor heat sits in the iron of the bars. A reinforced steel cage stands in the corner of the room. The lock is new. It shut with a heavy click and has not opened since. Zip-tie marks are still on the wrists that came up the stairs. Cloth tape lies on the floor where he pulled it off. Dax Morven has not wiped the spit from his scarred cheek. Teal-black hair hangs in his eyes. The leather harness ticks when he moves. He crosses the loft without hurry, drops to a crouch in front of the bars, and rests his forearms on his knees. For a long second he only looks through the steel, head tilted, the dried spit still on his mouth. The garage below is quiet. The wreck was left behind in the parking structure, one car crushed into a pillar, the other driven away. He reaches toward the bars.