Chapter 2

My fingertips trembled as I tapped the encrypted frequency that was firmly memorized in my mind. Just two beeps, and the call got through.

"I never expected you to contact me." A man's deep, resonant voice came through the receiver.

The faint, chilling noise of a chainsaw cutting through bone could be heard in the background.

Luke Chance was once the second-in-command of Night Owl Legion. He was also a deranged, unlicensed doctor who was internationally wanted for indulging in illegal live human modification.

I looked into the mirror, saying quickly, "Jules is going to hand me over to Samuel. Find a way to rescue me."

There was a brief silence on the other end, followed by the crisp sound of a surgical knife being thrown onto a metal tray.

Luke laughed uncontrollably, his voice carrying a twisted joy.

"I told you that loser Jules isn't worthy of you. You disbanded the legion for him, even going so far as to cut ties with me..."

I closed my eyes and clenched the cold communicator. "Cut the crap, Luke. I know you've been looking for the perfect experimental subject. As long as you take me with you, my life is yours."

The laughter on the other end stopped abruptly. "Deal."

...

A black silk dress clung tightly to my body, while my delicate neck was exposed to the cool air.

I sat before the vanity mirror, looking at myself. The Night Owl with eyes radiating murderous intent was gone, replaced by a beautifully made-up doll.

Jules stood behind me, placing a ruby ​​necklace around my neck. The cold gem pressed against my collarbone.

"Beautiful." He looked at me in the mirror, his hands pressing gently on my shoulders. "Skylar, no matter what happens tonight, trust me, okay?"

'Trust you? I'll trust that you'll sell me for a good price,' I pondered.

I sneered inwardly, but outwardly, I nodded obediently. "Jules, do you love me?"

Jules paused for half a second and avoided the question. He casually took my hand. "Let's go."

…

The convoy drove through the bustling city center, heading toward the suburbs. This was not the road to a high-class club, nor to a private manor.

The scenery outside the window grew increasingly desolate, and the streetlights were sparse. Eventually, only the car headlights pierced the endless darkness.

A salty, briny smell of seawater gradually filled the air. We had arrived at the dock.

The Gray family's convoy stopped in front of an abandoned shipyard. This was where the Gray family had built their fortune in their early days. It also served as a mass grave where countless souls had perished.

"We're here." Jules opened the car door for me.

The sea breeze was strong, tousling my long hair.

Samuel had brought a large group of men, and each one of them watched menacingly.

I instinctively reached for my outer thigh, where I usually strapped my tactical knife, but now, there was only the smooth hem of my silk skirt. I was unarmed because Jules had said I was his dance partner tonight, not his bodyguard.

I feigned unease and snuggled closer to him.

Jules put his arm around my shoulder, his grip surprisingly tight as if he were afraid I would run away. "Don't be afraid, I'm here."

Words that used to move me deeply now only made me nauseous.

He pushed open the rusty iron door. The huge warehouse was brightly lit, and the glaring incandescent light made me squint. A long table stood in the center of the warehouse, flanked by fully armed men in black.

The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and cheap cologne.

At the far end of the table sat a bald, middle-aged man. He wore a floral shirt, and he rested his feet on a crate of goods. He was using a dagger to pick dirt from under his fingernails. He was Samuel Robinson, the Don of his family.

Behind him stood a dozen gunmen, each carrying a Thompson submachine gun. The dark muzzle pointed straight at the door.

"Gray, you're late." Samuel looked up, revealing a gold-toothed grin while his eyes darted greedily between Jules and me.

"Is this how you show your sincerity?"

Jules led me to one end of the long table and pulled out a chair for me. His movements were still as gentlemanly as when he brought me to dinner parties countless times before. Only this time, he stood behind me, his hands pressing on my shoulders. "Samuel, I've brought her. Where's Gianna?"

Jules' voice was calm, devoid of any emotion.

Samuel toyed with the dagger, his gaze fixed on my face. It was filled with bare hatred and lust. "Skylar... Shaw? I've heard so much about you. I always thought the one who could shoot my eldest son dead would be a tough woman, but she turns out to be a beauty!"

His men let out malicious jeers.

Samuel stood up and dragged his heavy steps over. The dagger scraped across the table with a screeching sound. "Jules, it seems you've made your choice."

Jules' hand on my shoulder did not tremble. He straightened his cuffs and replied calmly, "Skylar is yours. Do with her as you please. I'm okay with trading a life for a life. I have only one request—release Gianna."

I sat in my chair with my back straight. Although I had long figured out the outcome, hearing those words still felt like an invisible hand was crushing my heart. In that instant, three years of life-and-death companionship and countless nights of tenderness turned to ashes before those words.

I looked down, covering the last glimmer of light in my eyes. I contemplated, 'Jules, this is your choice. I'm no longer your Skylar from now on.'

Samuel threw his head back and laughed. "Jules, you're truly someone who does great things! You'd even give away your own woman for a useless little sister! Impressive!"

He abruptly stopped laughing, and the dagger slammed into the table with a thud right beside me. "But it's not enough."