Midnight Collision

Seraphina

The garage smelled of oil, burnt rubber, and cold metal—a sharp contrast to the crisp air of the midnight sky outside. The hum of high-powered engines and the faint cheers from the racecourse echoed through the cavernous space. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting shadows over the sleek, matte-black car parked in the center of the garage—Damon Hale's prized machine.

Sera's laptop was balanced carefully on the hood of the car as she typed furiously, her fingers flying over the keys. The custom software was almost installed, every sequence running flawlessly. Her hoodie sleeves were pushed up just enough to reveal faint bruises on her wrists.

She glanced over her shoulder; the garage was empty except for her. Theo had promised her that no one would bother her while she worked, but promises in this world were as brittle as glass.

"Focus, Sera," she muttered to herself, plugging in the final cable to the car's central console.

The moment was interrupted by heavy footsteps echoing across the concrete floor.

"Well, well… what do we have here?"

The voice was oily, laced with mockery. Sera froze momentarily before turning slowly to face the intruder. A man in his late twenties, wearing a leather jacket with an unfamiliar logo, leaned casually against a toolbox. His smile was crooked, predatory. He was one of Damon's rivals—she recognized the logo from the track.

"Garage is off-limits," she said firmly, keeping her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.

He chuckled, pushing off the toolbox and stepping closer. "Relax, sweetheart. I'm just curious about what a pretty little genius like you is doing under Damon Hale's hood."

She took a step back. "I'm working. You're not supposed to be here."

His grin widened. "Oh, but I am. And it looks like we've got a little privacy."

The moment he lunged toward her, Sera ducked to the side, knocking over a metal stool in the process. Her laptop nearly slid off the car hood, but she caught it just in time.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped, backing away.

Before the man could close the gap again, another voice cut through the tension—sharp, low, and laced with barely restrained violence.

"I wouldn't take another step if I were you."

The man froze mid-stride, his face paling. Damon Hale stood at the entrance of the garage, his broad shoulders framed by the light from the racetrack outside. His expression was unreadable, but the storm brewing in his steel-gray eyes was unmistakable.

The rival driver raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, easy, Damon. We're just chatting."

Damon stepped forward, his boots echoing with each step. "Get. Out."

The man hesitated, but Damon's next step was enough to send him scrambling towards the exit.

Once the intruder was gone, Damon turned his gaze on Sera. His sharp eyes scanned her from head to toe, lingering on the faint bruise along her jaw and the ones on her wrist. His jaw clenched.

"How long have you been alone in here?" he asked, his voice low.

"I—I was just finishing up. I didn't expect anyone to—"

He stepped closer, and for a moment, Sera felt like she was being assessed by a predator. But there was something else in his eyes—concern.

"Those bruises aren't fresh," he said softly.

Sera flinched slightly, pulling her sleeves down. "It's nothing."

His expression darkened. "Nothing doesn't leave marks like that."

For a moment, the garage was silent except for the faint hum of the car's engine systems coming online. Damon's eyes held hers, and Sera felt an inexplicable pull, like gravity itself was tethering her to him.

"Is the software ready?" he asked finally, breaking the silence.

She swallowed and nodded. "Yes. It's installed. You can test it now."

Damon's lips twitched into something that might have been a smile, if only for a second. "Good. Get in. You're coming with me."

"What? Where?"

"We're testing it. And you'll want to be there."

Damon

Damon's knuckles were still tight around the steering wheel as he tore down the empty back roads outside the racetrack. Sera sat stiffly in the passenger seat, clutching her laptop bag as if it were a lifeline.

She had fire, he'd give her that. Fear simmered behind her green eyes, but it was eclipsed by determination. The bruises on her wrists and jaw gnawed at him, sparking a rage he rarely felt. Someone had hurt her, and judging by the faded purple hue of the bruises, it wasn't recent.

They arrived at his firm—an industrial fortress of glass and steel. Damon parked the car, the engine growling low as it cooled.

"Come with me," he said curtly, stepping out.

Inside, the lights illuminated a pristine workspace—one half filled with luxury cars in various states of assembly, the other with advanced software labs and high-tech equipment.

"This is your domain now," he said, turning to face her. "You'll have access to everything here. No limitations, no restrictions."

Sera's brows furrowed. "You want me to work here?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Damon crossed his arms. "Your software is good, but it's not what I need. I don't just want optimization—I want dominance. And for that, I need you."

Sera hesitated. "And if I say no?"

"You'll walk away with more money than you've ever had," Damon replied honestly. "But I have a feeling that's not what you want."

Her phone buzzed, breaking the moment. Sera froze, her face paling.

She hesitated before answering.

"Dad, I'm busy. Please—"

His voice was sharp, angry. "Where's the money, Seraphina? You've been hiding it, haven't you?"

"Dad, please, I'll—"

"Get home. Now."

The call disconnected.

Damon's voice broke through the silence. "That was him, wasn't it?"

Sera couldn't meet his eyes.

"Work for me, Seraphina," Damon said, his voice low. "You'll have security. Independence. You won't have to go back there."

"I—I need time to think," she whispered.

Seraphina

The door creaked as Sera stepped into the darkened apartment. The familiar stench of alcohol and stale cigarettes clung to the air like a suffocating blanket. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her backpack as she cautiously moved through the mess. Broken glass glittered faintly under the dim kitchen light, and her father's shadow loomed over the worn armchair in the corner.

He was awake.

"Where the hell have you been?" his voice rasped, sharp as broken glass.

Sera swallowed hard. "At work. I told you I had an important job tonight."

"Work," he sneered, pushing himself to his feet. The bottle in his hand sloshed with amber liquid. His eyes, bloodshot and wild, locked onto her like a predator. "Don't lie to me, girl. You think I don't know what you've been up to? Who you've been with?"

She took a step back, her breath catching in her throat. "I'm not lying. I'm trying to build something for myself—for us. So we don't have to live like this anymore."

"For us?" He laughed bitterly. "You think you're better than me because you've got your fancy school and your big dreams? You're nothing, Seraphina. Nothing without me."

She flinched as he spat her name, her nails digging into her palm. "Why are you like this? You weren't always like this…"

His face twisted with rage, and in one violent motion, he lunged for her backpack. She stumbled back, but he was faster, wrenching it from her hands. The laptop inside clattered to the floor. Before she could reach for it, his boot came down on the screen with a sickening crunch.

"No!" Sera cried out, dropping to her knees as the shattered remnants of her hard work lay scattered across the floor.

"You waste your time on this junk!" he bellowed, his voice shaking the walls. "All these years, you've been nothing but a burden. Just like her."

Her head snapped up. "What did you say?"

His lips curled into a cruel smile, teeth yellowed from years of neglect. "You heard me. You're not even mine, girl. You were never mine. Your precious mother brought you here from God knows where, thinking she could fix her empty life with a broken child."

Sera froze. The world tilted beneath her feet, and her father's words echoed in her ears.

"You're not even mine."

No. It couldn't be true. She had spent her whole life under his roof, trying to earn his approval, enduring his wrath, all while believing—hoping—that somewhere deep down, he cared for her in some twisted way.

"Why…" Her voice broke. "Why would you tell me this?"

"Because you're nothing, Seraphina!" he roared, his face inches from hers. "You were never supposed to be here! Your mother ruined me, and then she left me with you! You are nothing more than a useless slut, just like your mother!"

Something inside Sera shattered. The fragile hope she had clung to for so long turned to ash in her chest.

Before she could react, his hand came down again, sharp and brutal. She hit the floor hard, her head striking the corner of the coffee table. Stars exploded behind her eyes, and the metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth.

Pain roared through her skull as her father loomed over her. She tried to scramble backward, but her body refused to obey. His shadow covered her completely, and for a moment, all she could feel was fear—deep, primal, suffocating fear.

"Stop," she whimpered, her voice small and broken. "Please… stop…"

But he didn't stop. 

The one who she called her father for all these years, the one who once was nice and kind with her, when she was a kid, now was just a dark, cold shadow over her. Before she could react, her hoodie was ripped, and her father's cold hands squeezed her breasts painfully, rough and hard, leaving bruises all around.

"Please, don't…"

"Shut the fuck up! For all these years, I've been waiting to use you just like I used your mother; two useless bitches. You are just like her, with big breasts and a little pussy, perfect for a little game to teach you your place!"

"Father…please…" - she tried to escape, but it was useless. Even drunk, the one she called father all these years remained stronger than her, so that any attempt to get out from under his blows and painful squeeze was in vain.

With yet another painful blow to her face, which almost made her faint, Sera felt the zipper on her jeans being pulled and her panties being brutally torn. Unable to move to defend herself, brutally held by the hands and with blurred vision, she can do nothing but watch as the only pure thing she has left, her virginity, is cruelly taken from her. 

She feels how she is painfully penetrated, and as if her whole body is torn in two. With another penetration, she feels a wet, warm, and disgusting liquid on her abdomen and hears the front door close, along with her eyes as she faints and darkness engulfs her.

When Sera woke, the apartment was silent. Her body ached, every breath sharp and painful. She lay curled on the cold floor, naked and covered with bruises, her cheek pressed against the cracked tile. The faint morning light crept through the curtains, painting pale stripes across the wreckage of her home.

He was gone. 

Her father's old leather jacket was missing from its usual hook by the door, and the faint sound of an engine starting outside confirmed that he had left.

Sera's body trembled as she pushed herself up onto her elbows, biting back a sob as every muscle screamed in protest. Her hoodie was ripped, and blood smeared her lip.

Her gaze landed on the broken laptop on the floor—the lifeline to her future, now shattered beyond repair.

"No. Please, no."

Her shaking hands reached for the bookshelf beside the window. Hidden between the pages of an old textbook was a slim USB stick—the backup she had made of her program. With trembling fingers, she pulled it free and clutched it to her chest.

Her breath hitched as tears slipped down her bruised face. Her vision blurred, but her mind was clear.

She couldn't stay here. If he came back… if he found her again…

Fumbling, she grabbed her backpack, stuffed the USB stick and a few essentials inside, and staggered toward the door. Each step felt like agony, but she forced herself to keep moving.

Outside, the early morning air was sharp against her skin. Her phone was cracked, but still working. Her thumb hovered over one name in her contact list.

Damon Hale.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she pressed the call button and lifted the phone to her ear.

It rang once.

Twice.

Then his voice came through—low, steady, and sharp as a blade. "Sera?"

She choked on a sob. "Damon… I need your help."

"Where are you?"

His voice held no hesitation, no doubt—just quiet steel.

She gave him her location, and before she could say anything else, he cut the call.

For a moment, Sera stood there, clutching her backpack to her chest, her entire body trembling from fear, exhaustion, and pain.

Then headlights appeared at the end of the street.

A sleek, black car pulled up, and the door opened. Damon stepped out, his tall silhouette outlined by the early dawn light. His gaze swept over her, and his face went still—his sharp eyes darkened, his jaw clenched, and his knuckles turned white as his fists tightened at his sides.

"Sera…" he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

She took a shaky step toward him, her lip trembling, her arms wrapped tightly around her bruised body. Before she could take another step, she felt warm and soft hands catching her, and she fell into the darkness.