Charles revved the truck's engine, his hand confidently shifting gears as he accelerated towards the sleek 2021 Cherokee Latitude LUX jeep parked opposite him.
The man inside the jeep had been too engrossed in his phone call to notice the approaching truck until it was too late.
With a futile attempt to start his jeep, the collision was inevitable as the truck plowed into the Cherokee.
A few minutes later, Charles emerged from the truck, a wicked grin on his face as he surveyed the aftermath.
"Woah!... That was awesome!... So liberating!"
The once-impressive jeep was now a mangled wreck, smoke billowing from it, and the acrid stench of burning rubber filled the air.
Suddenly, a feeble groan caught Charles's attention.
He tilted his head, peering at the man struggling to crawl out of the shattered window of the overturned jeep, a look of pain etched across his face.
Charles couldn't suppress his twisted satisfaction as he observed the man's painful attempt to crawl out of the overturned Jeep.
The groans of agony seemed to only fuel Charles's perverse pleasure.
Finally, the man's head emerged, his left hand still clutching his phone, now smeared with blood and cuts.
Blood streamed down his face, and he appeared disoriented and in obvious pain as he looked up to meet Charles's gaze.
Shock and recognition washed over his blood-smeared face as he croaked out, "...Ch... Charles?" His voice was weak and shaky.
Charles, crouching down to Reynold's level, wore a devilish smirk. "Oh, hi, Uncle Rey... Are you hurt?" He feigned concern, his tone sickeningly sweet.
Reynold's vision was becoming increasingly blurry, his head spinning from the impact of the accident.
Reynold struggled to make sense of the situation, his mind foggy as he attempted to comprehend Charles' presence and the sudden crash that had occurred.
"Charles... What... what happened?" Reynold managed to get out, his voice weak and filled with pain.
"Call for... help... I need help..." He coughed between his words, but Charles only laughed, a twisted, dark laughter that sent shivers down Reynold's spine.
"Help you? Oh, Uncle Rey, you really think I would help you after causing your accident."
"You... you did... this?" Reynold asked, his voice filled with disbelief and horror, while Charles just stared at him, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight.
"Who else is capable of doing this except me," Charles said, adopting a low, hoarse, and deadly voice, a tone that made Reynold's eyes widen in realization.
"You're... you're... you're him," he croaked out, his voice barely audible before he collapsed unconscious onto the floor.
Charles smirked, seemingly unfazed by Reynold's deteriorating condition.
He took a black glove from his pocket and put it on before using it to retrieve the phone from Reynold's left hand.
The screen was shattered into nearly a hundred pieces, and Charles assumed the device was too damaged to turn on.
However, he decided to try it and pressed the side button.
To his surprise, the phone powered on, but it required a password or the owner's fingerprint to gain access.
Without hesitation, Charles pressed Reynold's thumb to the phone's fingerprint pad to unlock it.
Upon gaining access, Charles immediately navigated to Reynold's call log and selected the Caller ID named 'Wifey,' putting it on speaker.
Holding the phone in his right hand, he positioned it close to his mouth and waited as it rang for a few seconds.
Then, the excited female voice came through, "Hello love..."
Charles smirked, imitating the hoarse, low voice once again, "Hello Clarissa," sounding dark and menacing.
A brief silence followed, and Charles took delight in the response he was getting, sensing the fear in her voice.
"Who are you, and why are you using my husband's phone?" She asked, her voice trembling with anxiety.
"Come on, Clarissa... you know who this is," Charles replied, his grin growing wider as she finally uttered, "...Red Saint."
"Atta girl," he purred, savoring the fear he could sense in Clarissa's voice. Her recognition of him as Red Saint only fueled his sinister satisfaction.
"Where's my husband?" Clarissa demanded, her voice a mix of anger and fear, and Charles couldn't help but chuckle darkly before responding, "Don't worry. He's in a safe place."
Clarissa's anger flared, and she shot back, "What do you mean, 'safe'? What have you done to him!?"
Charles remained silent for a moment, his gaze flickering towards where Reynold lay unconscious and bleeding on the floor.
Finally, he spoke, "Well... let's just say he's a bit indisposed. You can come pick him up at 103."
"Oh!... and perhaps you should come with an ambulance too... it's a bit bloody," he added, grinning maliciously before ending the call.
He then slammed the phone to the ground and crushed it underfoot until he was satisfied.
With one last glance at Reynold on the floor, Charles turned away, got into his truck, and drove away, leaving chaos and fear in his wake.
•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Flashback Ends
•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
"Charles!" Alexander called for the fourth time, finally prompting a response from Charles, who seemed lost in thought.
"Yeah," Charles blinked, snapping back to the present, his cousin's concerned expression focusing his attention.
"What's going on, Charles? You had us worried for a moment there," Alexander inquired, his tone conveying urgency and shared concern with Isabel, who was quietly observing from the back seat.
Charles shook his head slightly, attempting to dispel the dark memories that had briefly consumed him.
"I'm sorry, Alexander," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of distance. "I just got lost in thought for a moment."
"What were you saying?" He hoped to shift the conversation away from his recent distraction.
Alexander paused briefly, his response tinged with hesitation, but he eventually spoke up.
"Don't worry...it's not relevant now," he assured, and Charles quietly exhaled, a weight lifting from his shoulders.
He glanced back at Isabel, who offered a faint smile, and reciprocated with a nod of understanding.
Their journey continued, the city's lights creating an eerie ambiance within the car's interior as they navigated through the night.
An air of disquiet clung to them, particularly affecting Alexander, who found himself unable to shake his concern for Camilla's safety in Paris with Red Saint still on the loose.