The Taxi of the Dead

Damien paused for a moment. He looked around, realizing there was no one else present and saw that I wasn’t backing down.

His expression instantly darkened. “Don’t push your luck. Say one more word and I’ll have you kicked out of Scotland today and turn your car into scrap metal.”

At that moment, regret pierced me deeply. I shouldn’t have stopped. I had provoked someone far too powerful.

Suddenly, the woman beside him clutched Damien’s hand tightly, her eyes darting around nervously.

“Damien, did you hear someone laughing just now?”

Damien brushed off her words, unwilling to take them seriously. His expression shifted a few times before he finally exhaled. “Alright, you can drop off one passenger first, but you must take the route I choose.”

I knew the road he meant; it was only a slight detour. As long as I could complete the job on time, I was willing to comply.

Normally, I didn’t transport the living at night. My work was with the dead. I took them to the places they longed to visit before they died, helping them release their grievances and move on to reincarnation.

If their wishes aren’t fulfilled within the allotted time, they turn into vengeful spirits.

I knew what mattered most.

The men quickly lit cigarettes inside the car and the thick smoke made my eyes sting. Damien deliberately pressed his cigarette butt into the seat, the acrid smell of scorched leather filling the confined space.

I valued my car. It might be ordinary, but every part of it had been blessed with talismans.

“What are you doing? If you damage my car, you can’t possibly pay for it!”

The moment I spoke, all three of them burst into laughter.

“You poor schmuck, my Lamborghini could cover repairs for this junker for an entire year with just one press of the accelerator.”

“The worst car in my garage could buy a hundred of these rust buckets.”

Laughing last, Damien kicked the back of my seat hard. “If you’re going to be poor, then be poor properly. If I give you money, take it without complaint.”

I bit back my words, forcing myself to stay calm. What mattered was delivering the female ghost in the car to her destination.

But as soon as I turned onto the road Damien had specified, more than ten black cars suddenly appeared behind us, giving chase.

Trouble.

I slammed on the gas and twisted the steering wheel sharply to dodge the pursuing vehicles.

“Mr. Thornfield, what’s going on?” I demanded.

In the rearview mirror, he simply smiled meaningfully and said nothing.

Before long, I was forced to pull over at the side of the road.

Several burly men closed in, motioning for me to step out.

My whole body trembled, but I forced a strained smile. “Brothers, don’t get worked up. Let’s talk this out.”

The next second, the door was wrenched open violently. Rough hands dragged me out and threw me hard onto the ground.

Damien, holding the woman in his arms, strolled over slowly and lifted my chin with the tip of his shoe.

“You were so cocky just now. Why are you suddenly speechless?”

Pain throbbed in my scalp and the taste of dirt filled my mouth.

One of the enforcers handed Damien an ID they’d taken from me. He read it lazily.

“Rachel Whitlock, Senior Underworld Liaison Officer. What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Using a fake ID to pick up customers is illegal, isn’t it? If I call the police, how long do you think they’ll keep you locked up?”

He did have power and influence, but we were not from the same world.

Amid the laughter of the crowd, one thug smashed the taxi’s windows with a crowbar while another grinned maliciously as he popped open the hood.

I tried to stop them, but I was too weak. Two fists couldn’t fight against four hands. I struggled to stand, only to be shoved back down, my wrists bound tightly behind me.

“You’ll pay the price for what you did to my car!” I shouted, fury burning in my chest.

My vision blurred red. Teeth clenched, I wanted nothing more than to lunge at him and sink my teeth into his flesh.

“Price?” Damien sneered. “Name your price. To me, it’s just a number.”