Three black sedans pulled out of the Phobos Royal Hotel garage, merged into traffic, and sped toward Phobos Bay International Airport.
Meanwhile, on the Loracity Icefield, wind and snow howled, and fog blinded the eyes.
Dressed thinly, Lucas was soon frozen stiff. His wrists were tightly locked in rare lead ore handcuffs behind his back. The prison guard shoved his back down hard, forcing him to hunch as he was pushed into the elevator.
The elevator doors slammed shut, shutting out the white sky.
Lucas felt like his shoulders were about to be ripped off. He couldn’t help but curse, “Can’t you fuckers go easy?!”
This posture was unbearably uncomfortable and humiliating.
“Down!”
A heavy gunstock slammed into Lucas’s back, mercilessly thudding against his spine.
Lucas felt a sharp pain shoot up his back, his vision went black, and he almost collapsed.
Shit…
He gritted his teeth and swallowed the cry of pain.
“You think this is some kind of place? Even S-class has to hunch over like a quail for me!” The guard raised the gunstock again and rained blows down on Lucas.
The hits landed in a mess. If they hit muscle, it was bearable; if they hit bone, the pain nearly made him jump.
In this cold, sweat broke out on his brow and temples from the pain, but he held on by sheer willpower and memorized the faces of the four guards reflected in the elevator walls.
When he was free again, he swore he’d cut out their tongues, gouge out their eyes, chop off their limbs, and feed them to the sharks in the freezing sea!
Lucas thought viciously, and as the pain faded a little, he heard the guards start to gossip.
“I heard he’s from the Howard family. Born noble, huh.”
“The Howard family’s been washed up for years. Even Belia Howard got kicked out of the restricted zone ages ago.”
“That’s what happens when you lose to the Dinglock family. Got what was coming.”
“So what’s this kid so cocky for? Fallen nobility. Tch.”
“No idea what he was thinking—could’ve been a rich playboy, but had to join the Black Lantern Society. Now look, dragged his whole family down. Even Adrian from Ghost Eye Guild has to go to the restricted zone for questioning.”
“I only just found out Adrian’s last name is Howard too.”
“Hey, Adrian—what is he to you?” One of them kicked Lucas like livestock.
Lucas’s face was grim, and he didn’t say a word.
Getting the whole Howard family implicated was satisfying. Dragging Adrian in too was even… even…
Lucas suddenly realized he couldn’t think of the right word.
Maybe the cold had frozen his brain, or maybe he was just numb from the pain. He should’ve been glad, but thinking of Adrian’s cold, stern face, he just felt bored.
Adrian probably thought his troublesome, sickly little brother was finally going to die and would never chase him again.
Or maybe Adrian wouldn’t think anything at all. They were never that close anyway. To Adrian, this was like stepping in gum—annoying, but you just scrape it off.
“Damn, got a real temper, huh.” The guard, annoyed by Lucas’s silence, raised his gunstock to hit again.
“Hey, if you break his spine, he won’t survive. Don’t forget, he’s bait.” Another guard stopped him.
“Heh, nobody comes back from AGW Special Dangerous Death Row Prison. You think the Black Lantern Society will come rescue him?” Even so, the guard put away his gunstock.
Very soon, the elevator reached the lowest level.
They covered Lucas’s eyes with a black cloth before escorting him out, forcing him to walk hunched over for a long stretch. They arrived at another elevator.
Lucas couldn’t observe the prison’s structure—he knew this was to prevent him from memorizing the route and planning an escape.
A guard used his own iris for identification, opened the second elevator, and set it to the second floor.
Lucas was shoved into the elevator again, and this time it rose to the second level.
After walking hunched over for so long, he felt his waist was almost numb.
Finally, he arrived at his cell.
The black cloth was removed, and what he saw was a cramped, damp room. A gray blanket was spread on the floor, the walls on both sides were mottled black, as if thick oil had been smeared everywhere.
But Lucas knew very well that wasn’t oil, but years and years of dried blood.
“Get in!” They let go of him and shoved him into the room.
The cell door locked instantly, blocking out most of the corridor’s light.
When Lucas moved even a little, he felt a tearing pain in his back and waist—he guessed his back was already bruised.
But in his current position, he couldn’t even check his injuries, let alone lie down.
He started missing Fata’s ointment.
He always complained about how awful Fata’s ointment tasted, and Fata had to adjust the flavor over a hundred times, but it was still terrible.
But even though it tasted bad, that ointment always worked. If he could have a jar now to rub on his back, he’d feel better in no time.
It had already been a full week since he was captured.
They’d finished interrogating him quickly and shipped him off to this remote, freezing place.
Under Si Hongche’s ability, he’d confessed everything. Now, the Federation was surely starting to purge the High Tower Guild. Because of one moment of carelessness, he’d doomed them all.
Lucas’s eyes grew darker and darker.
If only he’d spoken to Lance before leaving, if only he’d been more careful with Deng Zhi’s plea…
After a help request was completed, they were never supposed to have further contact with the person involved—that was Black Lantern Society’s rule. But he’d gone soft, thinking maybe Deng Zhi could be like Oliver and become a new ally for the society.
He’d completely underestimated the Federation’s methods and caused a disaster. If only he could just die and end it all here, so the Black Lantern Society could be saved.
But what did they mean by “bait”?
What value did he have as bait? Besides the Black Lantern Society, no one would come for him, and the society must be too busy saving themselves now.
Could it be that Lance and the others got word and already escaped? The Federation couldn’t find them, so they assumed they’d come here to rescue him?
The little master was so clever—maybe he really could find a way out.
Lucas’s mind spun with wild thoughts as the pain gradually overwhelmed him. He slowly knelt down and curled up.
It was just a beating, but it seemed he’d had too many good days—he couldn’t even handle pain anymore, when pain used to be his norm.
Lucas tried to force a smile, but as soon as his lips curved, he realized there was no more eerie clown makeup on his face, only a pale and wretched complexion.
And now, there was no one to watch his sick, manic performance, so he could only put away his twisted grin.
Suddenly, in the dimness, a hand reached out and grabbed his ankle.
The prisoner who’d been lying like a corpse in the corner finally stirred once the door was locked, reaching out toward him.
“Omega,” the prisoner chuckled darkly, a disgusting lust in his raspy voice. His rough fingers slid from Lucas’s ankle to his calf, breathing growing heavy and deep. “Damn, such tender Omega skin—won’t last more than a few times before you’re ruined.”
He muttered filth, fumbling with his pants as he crawled toward Lucas.
Lucas was forced out of his thoughts, turning his head to fix his deep blue eyes on the crawling, drooling piece of meat.
Hatred and a murderous urge rose up inside him. His eyelids drooped, and it was as if thick darkness was dripping from his fingertips.
Ignoring the pain in his back, he stood up. The hand never let go, its five fingers lingering on his springy calf—just the feel of it was enough to make the wretch let out a satisfied gulp.
“That’s right, be good, let me—” The prisoner’s words were cut off by a dull, clear crack—the sound of bone breaking. His split arm bone burst through the flesh with a sickening squelch, his forearm hanging like a broken rag doll, attached only by a strip of skin.
“AAAAAAAH!”
It took five seconds before the blood-curdling scream squeezed out of his throat, blood splattering across the walls and floor, droplets dotting the oily black stains and becoming new nourishment.
“Let you what? Say it.” Lucas’s voice was light, like an accordion playing in a café on a lazy afternoon. As he spoke, he admired the art of cruelty.
He’d just broken the man’s arm with his knee. Now, up close, he leaned in, grabbed the broken arm with his cuffed hands, and yanked, tearing the skin and flesh apart.
Before the prisoner could scream again, Lucas’s eyes went cold. He drove the jagged bone straight into the man’s throat.
The bone pierced all the way in, blocking the last sound. The prisoner’s terrified gaze froze forever.
Dim light from outside the cell fell on Lucas’s face, like the final spotlight at the end of a play.
Lucas tossed aside the filthy hand and collapsed to the ground, exhausted.
On the ninth underground floor, in an office, Warden Asmodeus watched the monitor and chuckled. He squinted his only remaining left eye: “Looks like even Chief Si can make mistakes. The bait still has some fight left.”
Si Hongche said coldly, “You tested him like this?”
Asmodeus seemed surprised by the question. He spread his hands. “Isn’t it great? He’ll definitely fight back. Now we know how to break his wings.”
Si Hongche’s fingers clenched tighter, his leather gloves squeaking.
Asmodeus lowered his left eye, watching Si Hongche’s reaction closely.
He guessed Si Hongche was thinking of that person.
Here, Omegas never had it any better. That person, when brought in, had just undergone a forced abortion.
Si Hongche suddenly stood up and strode out.
Asmodeus immediately ordered, “What are you all standing around for? Show Chief Si the way!”
Si Hongche went straight to Lucas’s cell. The door opened, revealing Lucas’s sweat-soaked face.
Lucas looked up, and when he saw the towering, murderous Si Hongche, he actually gave a wild, twisted grin.
At first, his smile was low and quiet, then it grew crazed. He shook the sweat from his hair, looking up at Si Hongche with disdain: “Hahaha… So you’re the one who kept Oliver locked in this place for four years?”
Si Hongche’s expression twisted instantly.
“You’re hilarious, hahahaha.” Lucas clutched his stomach, laughing until he coughed violently. “How do you even have the nerve to live? Why don’t you just die?”
Si Hongche’s pupils turned pitch black, as if all his emotions were crushed together inside. He said nothing, just grabbed Lucas’s shoulders and—crack, crack—dislocated both arms in one clean move.
“Ugh!” Lucas couldn’t laugh anymore. Pain twisted his muscles and features, his forehead pressed hard to the icy floor.
Asmodeus, who’d followed, watched with some regret, muttering, “Tch, I thought he’d cut the tendons in his hands and feet. Chief Si’s gotten soft lately.”
Lucas trembled, forcing out a broken sentence: “You didn’t catch… them, did you? Trying to use me… as bait? Dream on! We always said… live or die, we’ll cut our losses. They won’t come! You might as well… just kill me!”
Si Hongche seemed wrapped in a layer of frost and snow. He just replied expressionlessly, “Is that so? Then the explosives on the Ice Rift Cliff will have no use.”
Lucas’s face instantly turned as pale as paper.
##
(advanced chapters available on kofi)
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152