Longing, buried deep for so long, was suddenly drowned in the chill of confrontation. Luo Hai’s lips were pressed tight, and his long lashes trembled under the dim streetlight, the flicker catching in Eugene’s gaze.
Like a startled cat, fur bristled and ready to bolt—so infuriatingly adorable Eugene wanted to bite him.
And yet, Eugene kept walking toward him, completely unbothered. Luo Hai was so tempted to bash him in the head with the butt of his gun, just to see what exactly was going on inside that brain of his.
What was he thinking? Was he completely brain-dead? How could he miss such an obvious warning?
“Oddis, you’ve got some nerve showing up in front of me like this!” Luo Hai raised his voice, holding the gun even more steadily. “What are you doing here? What scheme are you cooking up this time?”
But intimidation didn’t stop Eugene at all. A few long strides brought him directly in front of Luo Hai. He reached out and grabbed the gun by the barrel, smiling with those amber eyes that made it impossible to tell where sincerity ended and flirtation began.
“Of course I’m here for you, Prosecutor Luo. A face like yours—just letting you walk away? That’d be such a waste. Don’t you think so?”
Luo Hai faltered under Eugene’s gaze, unsure for a split second whether this was an act or something more real.
He instinctively stepped back half a pace—
Then suddenly, a cloth-wrapped hand came from behind and clamped tightly over his mouth and nose. A sharp chemical scent flooded his senses. He struggled for a few seconds before losing control, consciousness slipping away.
When Luo Hai opened his eyes again, he found himself in a dark, empty space. The musty air and dampness told him he was likely underground. He was sitting in a cold metal chair, his hands tightly bound behind him with knots.
He quickly looked down at the collar of his coat. The small listening device was still there, exactly where it had been, not removed or tampered with.
Luo Hai’s head throbbed painfully, and for a moment he couldn’t process what was happening. Just then, footsteps echoed through the empty underground space, and Eugene’s polished shoes entered his line of sight.
His heartbeat quickened uncontrollably.
“Had a nice nap, Prosecutor Luo Hai?” The terrorist leader curled his lips into a smirk, looking down at his captive. “Feeling more clear-headed now? Ready to give up the intel?”
Luo Hai looked up, about to speak, but Eugene leaned down first, his lips nearly brushing Luo Hai’s ear as he whispered, “Doyle wants to see if you’re loyal enough—so let’s put on a show for him.”
The warm breath against his sensitive ear made Luo Hai nearly shudder.
He felt a wave of relief but tensed up immediately again.
Eugene wasn’t an idiot—he’d understood Luo Hai’s earlier signal and decided to go along with it, putting on a convincing act. But the coldness and amusement that flashed in his amber eyes made it hard to predict what he might do next.
“I’ll ask one last time—what is the prosecutor’s plan?” Eugene stepped back just enough to apply the right amount of pressure. His tone was icy, like a real interrogation.
Luo Hai bit his lip and decided to go along with the act. He looked up, voice as cold as he could make it.
“You couldn’t get it out of me after a whole month in Lansai. What makes you think I’ll tell you now?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure, Prosecutor Luo Hai,” Eugene said lazily. “Maybe during our time apart, I came up with new, more terrifying ways to torture you.”
Luo Hai let out a mocking laugh. “You think a bit of torture will make me betray justice and the law? So that’s what the Lightwing people are like—no guts, no brains.”
His words were abruptly cut off as he felt a cold sting at his neck—sharp metal pressing right against his artery.
“Last chance.” Eugene lifted Luo Hai’s chin with the tip of his dagger. The blade left a faint trail of blood on his pale skin. His voice was like poisoned silk—soft and dangerous. “Who’s in charge of the Omega prison? Where has the prosecution’s manpower been moved?”
Luo Hai tilted his head back, Adam’s apple shifting under the blade. The listening device could only pick up their tense conversation—it couldn’t see Eugene’s other hand slowly reaching for Luo Hai’s wrist, gently touching the rope-burned skin.
The last time they met, Eugene had gripped his wrist just like this, pinning him to the bed until Luo Hai couldn’t even cry.
“I don’t know,” Luo Hai said hoarsely, his voice barely under control. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t—ah!”
A bucket of water suddenly poured over his head. Luo Hai jerked instinctively, his back arching. The water soaked through his clothes, flowing from his collar down his body.
To his surprise, the water was warm—not torturous at all. The rising steam added a strange, almost intimate fog to the air. Eugene’s blade moved over the soaked fabric, leaving occasional real cuts.
If Doyle bought into this performance, it wouldn’t be long before they followed the GPS signal and arrived. Luo Hai would need to bear visible signs of torture to make the act convincing. Eugene could only inflict as many minor injuries as possible—nothing too serious. Any moment of hesitation or softness could have serious consequences.
Time passed. The searing pain eventually dulled. Luo Hai opened his eyes and met Eugene’s gaze—full of suppressed, complicated emotions.
“Are you some kind of pervert?” Eugene leaned in, using his knee to part Luo Hai’s legs. He whispered in a voice too low for the bug to catch, “Even now, you’re hard?”
Luo Hai stifled a gasp, looking up at him and answering in a shaky whisper, “What can I do? Just seeing you… makes me lose control.”
Eugene stared into his eyes. In that moment, all he wanted was to burn the world down and escape with Luo Hai to a universe where no one could touch them.
The interrogation had become mutual torment. Longing and pain turned into invisible shackles, digging into both prisoner and interrogator, while the fire between them burned just out of reach.
They couldn’t hug. Couldn’t kiss. Not yet—not until they survived this world. Or until death tore them apart.
As Eugene drew one final line of blood, slicing through Luo Hai’s shirt, Luo Hai tilted his head and gently kissed Eugene’s wrist—the one holding the blade.
The soft, warm touch nearly drove Eugene insane. He had to summon every ounce of restraint to pull his hand back and return to a cold tone.
“Not talking, huh? Fine. Lightwing has plenty of methods. You think staying quiet will stop us? In three days, this city will be in our hands.”
He spoke without emotion. “Once Lightwing seizes the North District armory, you’ll regret refusing to cooperate.”
“Bullshit. Evil will never prevail…” Luo Hai’s chest heaved as he struggled to speak. “You won’t win.”
His lips—red, damp, and trembling—made Eugene’s heart ache with an unbearable itch. He stepped forward, lifted Luo Hai’s chin, and gently ran his thumb over those soft lips.
The feeling of losing control grew stronger. Luo Hai felt his reason slipping away, his mind going blank, leaving only the rawest, most desperate desire—
Just then, a shrill ringtone sliced through the air, snapping them both back to reality. Eugene straightened up, his gaze drifting to the listening device on Luo Hai’s collar.
“Well, well… not bad, Prosecutor Luo Hai. You brought backup.”
He raised his voice, adding a sneer. “You and your little tail-waggers have fun. I’m out.”
With that, Eugene turned and left. Luo Hai’s throat tightened, like something had gripped his vocal cords. His lips moved instinctively, but no sound came out.
Eugene.
But as if sensing it, Eugene turned back. He gave Luo Hai a faint smile and mouthed silently:
Don’t be scared. I’m always here.
From far behind came the sound of rapid footsteps. Eugene’s smile vanished, and he disappeared down the dark corridor.
Moments later, a team of more than a dozen people rushed in, weapons ready. The sound of guns being cocked echoed through the open space.
Someone spotted Luo Hai first and shouted, “Prosecutor Luo Hai!” A group of people swarmed over, quickly working to untie him.
“He’s not far—go after him,” Doyle said calmly. A few people broke off and ran in the direction Eugene had escaped.
Luo Hai finally worked his wrist free. His injuries and the wet fabric clinging to him made it hard to even breathe.
Doyle looked him over, then draped his suit jacket over his shoulders with a smirk tinged with contempt. “You’ve been getting kidnapped a lot lately, haven’t you, Princess?”
Luo Hai tugged lightly at the collar. “If I didn’t, how else would we get the most crucial intel?”
“Oh? What intel?” Doyle reached out as if casually straightening Luo Hai’s clothes. When he pulled his hand back, the tiny listening device was gone.
Luo Hai sneered inwardly but kept a calm expression. “Three days. In three days, Lightwing will launch an assault on the North District, seize the armory, and then begin a full military attack on Nantes.”
Doyle looked at him for a moment, then slowly asked, “Is it accurate?”
“Eugene Oddis said it himself,” Luo Hai replied evenly. “Of course, we can’t rule out the possibility that he was lying. But things have escalated to the point where even he has no reason to. The Lightwing Society has been cornered. They have no other option.”
Doyle studied Luo Hai for a long time before finally nodding. “Let’s go. Time to make the final preparations.”
