Chapter 185: What did I ever do?

I turned toward him, my blood running cold. Instead of wiping the hot spray of blood from his cheek, he began clawing frantically at the skin around his jawline. A wave of nausea hit me as thick, rubbery sheets of fake flesh peeled away under his fingernails. But a second later, I realized it wasn’t real skin—it was prosthetics and theatrical silicone. As the gory disguise crumbled, a horrifyingly familiar face emerged underneath.

It was my former university classmate, Ian.

Only now, a jagged, grotesque scar slashed across his once-handsome face, pulling his cheek and upper lip into a permanent sneer. I made the fatal mistake of staring directly at the ruin of his face, unable to mask my shock.

"What, don’t like the view?" Ian spat, taking a heavy step toward me. "Shame. Your precious Alpha did this to me. That son of a bitch ruined my life, stole my future, and ripped my face apart—all because of you."

"I... I don’t understand, Ian. We never had a conflict at university. What did I ever do to you?" My voice betrayed me, trembling violently.

Ian’s mouth twisted into a lopsided, hideous grimace, the scar pulling the skin taut like a warped rubber mask.

"Remember my notebook?" he snarled through clenched teeth. "The police found it tucked inside your cheap clothes. Covered in traces of a high-grade aphrodisiac, no less."

A wave of pure revulsion washed over me as the memory rushed back. The day before that crazed professor had attacked me, Ian had been unnaturally friendly, offering me his lecture notes to catch up. But I had never even opened the notebook. It had sat untouched at the bottom of my bag...

"Why?" I whispered, searching his twisted face, utterly bewildered by his malice. Why would someone I had barely spoken to betray me so viciously?

The heavy hands clamping down on my shoulders suddenly released me. Behind me, I heard Adam let out a choked breath as the other warriors stepped back, falling into formation against the container’s steel wall.

"There was a massive bounty on your head," Ian sneered, reveling in the terror radiating off me. "Disgusting money for candid videos and photos of you—in the locker room, in your dorm. I was even planning to plant a hidden camera in your room, but you had to go and run off, and then the whole damn dormitory burned down... Still, luck was on my side. That fat bastard paid me upfront before he croaked. The old pervert was obsessed with you, drooling over every file."

The sickening details made my stomach churn. The realization that I had been stalked, watched, and quantified like cargo turned my blood to ice. But Ian was drunk on his own cruelty, and interrupting him would only invite violence. We were entirely at his mercy.

He had just executed a man in cold blood without batting an eye, and I had no idea what horrors he had planned for us. But what terrified me even more than Ian was the towering figure in the back.

Max sat motionless on the wooden crate, his predatory, unblinking eyes locked onto me, his knuckles white where his hands gripped the edge of the wood.

It was as if he were barely holding himself back from lunging across the space to rip me apart right then and there.

The most terrifying truth of our predicament was that there was no one to protect me. Magnus was too far away, and Adam wasn’t even a factor—he was older, physically weaker, and would be gunned down at the slightest movement.

"Why are you telling me all this?" I asked, forcing my hands to remain still. My instincts screamed at me to cup my abdomen, to shield it from their sight, but I held back. Protect the baby.

The raw, primal aura of hungry predation radiating off these males slashed across my raw nerves like a rusted, serrated blade. Every fiber of my being urged me to bare my fangs and retreat into the farthest, darkest corner of the shipping container—to curl into a ball and cover my throat, my stomach, every vulnerable inch of flesh. But I couldn’t let them see me break. I couldn’t grant them the satisfaction of knowing they had broken my spirit.

"Because you won’t be telling a soul," Ian sneered. "Never again. And as for your abduction... you have no idea what your head is worth on the global market, Luna. Unhinged, high-ranking Alphas and major pharmaceutical conglomerates are openly outbidding each other for you. Though I reckon you’ll end up in the hands of one very specific, very interested Alpha. As for him—" Max gestured lazily toward Ian "—he’s already secured a priceless prize for the pharmaceutical firms."

With a cruel smirk, Max rose from the crate. He pried open the wooden lid and carefully, almost reverently, withdrew a small glass vial filled with a thick, cloudy amber liquid.

Behind me, Adam let out a choked, venomous growl. "You fucking monsters..."

My heart hammered against my ribs as I looked at Adam’s pale, rigid face, my eyes darting frantically between him and the grinning figures of Max and Ian.

"What is that?" I asked, my voice barely a raspy whisper as I involuntarily took a step back.

"Alpha Breeder glandular secretion," Ian said, his voice dropping into a manic, breathless purr. "The rarest currency in the world. Nothing on this planet costs more than this little glass vial. This liquid alone is worth an entire island nation in the tropics, along with everyone on it. What’s left over after selling it will keep my great-great-great-grandchildren living in luxury for generations." He dissolved into a harsh, barking laugh.

"And the girl... you took it from?" I whispered, paralyzed by the sheer, inhuman cruelty of it.

"Ah, that little bitch? We tossed her into the river," Ian replied with a dismissive wave. "Don’t think we’re entirely heartless, Jane—she was just a kid. Probably drowned fast, didn’t suffer much. And hey, if she miraculously survived, maybe she’ll recover one day... assuming someone pumps this back into her system." The bastard laughed again, a sound that made my skin crawl.

"Who hired you?" I demanded, fighting to keep my composure. "If I’m not getting out of here alive, at least give me a name..."

"Dean Nyland," Ian spat, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "A complete psychopath. He’s barely human anymore—so much cybernetic metal stuffed into him that he can crush a skull to bloody pulp with one hand. It’s a damn shame I’m under strict orders not to mark you up. I’d love nothing more than to carve up that pretty face of yours and mail Magnus a framed piece of it every single year. Let the bastard rot in his own agony..."