Amarya slammed the apartment door behind her. The silence of her apartment blanketed her, bringing along with it a wave of relief. She haphazardly sunk to her knees. Her heart pounded wildly, and she pressed her hands against her chest in a desperate attempt to slow its pace.
She couldn't shake Damien's abnormal strength and the psychotic gaze that lingered over her skin. She shuddered at the memory. Since when had Damien been so strong? He'd always been submissive and lackadaisical around Amarya. Had he been hiding his true strength around her?
Amarya shuddered at the thought. Just who was Damien? She realized she knew very little about the boy despite spending a good portion of her time with him. She weakly shook her head, attempting to clear her head of Damien's face.
Instead, the figure of her mysterious savior popped into her head. They were dressed in a black hoodie and dark pants, but Amarya hadn't been able to clearly make out the details of their appearance under the setting sun.
Amarya shut her eyes. Whoever it was, she was forever grateful for their help.
***
Meanwhile, Joan stood meters away from Amarya's apartment building, towering over Damien's bloodied body. By now, his body had gone limp, but his eyes were still open, blazing with energy.
Joan scowled down at him and gave him one last kick to the gut for good measure. Damien gasped for air as her shoe connected with his stomach.
The proximity between Joan and Damien allowed him to make out her facial features. Cold eyes stared down at him, radiating such a frightening chill that they seemed to glow in the dark.
Damien swallowed a clot of blood before coughing out, "Black Lion."
Joan squatted down to grip a handful of his hair in her hand. "You're in the Black Lions."
Damien smirked. "What about it?"
"Who's your leader?"
Damien raised a brow. Why was she looking for him? "Elaborate. Why should I tell you who and where he is? So you can go beat him up? I assure you. He's not as weak as you think he is."
"I think your compromising situation should be enough as an incentive," Joan said. She pulled on his brown hair to emphasize her point, eliciting a pained groan from his bloody lips.
Damien laughed aloud. His fearlessness puzzled Joan. How could he be so carefree in this situation? He was beaten bloody, and yet he seemed devoid of fear.
"You know, I don't hit women. But you- You really piss me the fuck off," Damien growled. A sharp burn erupted in Joan's wrist. She looked down to see a syringe poking out from her blood vessel. Before she could react, Damien had already squeezed the contents of the syringe into her bloodstream.
Joan growled and ripped Damien's hand away from her. She jumped back, preparing to escape from Damien before his unknown drug began to kick in. But before she could make it far, her vision blurred, and her world spun.
Up became down, and left became right. Which way was she going? Joan stumbled around, attempting to regain her balance, but the throbbing in her head was debilitating. Her ears rang, and before she knew it, she was lying on the ground.
"PK," she grunted. "I'm fucked."
"I can see that," PK snakily replied. How could the system still be so unconcerned? She was about to die!
Joan's eyes fluttered shut, and the world around her became oblivion.
Damien weakly stumbled to his feet and staggered to Joan's collapsed body. Her weaknesses were laid bare before him, and he couldn't help but relish the rush of superiority that filled his veins. He couldn't get enough of it.
"Fuck you," he laughed and delivered a kick to her stomach. "Fuck you. Fuck you," he chanted. And with each curse came another blow directed toward Joan's unresponsive body.
In his hands was an empty syringe. Its blue contents had been emptied into Joan's blood and had sedated her within seconds.
It was a derivative of benzodiazepine, a sedating drug that could act within ten minutes. But its chemical structure had been altered, allowing the drug to act within seconds. To the drug community, it was known as TranQ―a very illegal drug.
But despite the legal implication they could face, the Eagles had smuggled the drug over, selling it to whoever the could get it to. But the most popular buyers were rapists aiming to knock out their victims within seconds.
Damien was well aware of the revolting morals of his clients, but he couldn't care less. As long as he got his money, he'd be happy. As long as he could escape this hellhole with Amarya, he'd be satisfied. But before he could escape with her, she'd left him first. And that infuriated him.
Damien fished his phone from his pocket while rubbing his temples to soothe the pounding headache Joan had given him.
He snapped a picture of her limp body before sending it to the anonymous group chat.
"Let's go, boys. We've caged the Black Lion."