Chapter 150: The Warehouse

Words : 1500 Updated : Sep 27th, 2025

Chapter 150: The Warehouse "So, you won’t talk?" Zeran asked the man, bound to the chair with silver chains, his face soaked in blood. Ptui! That bloodied man spat in Zeran’s direction. "Aren’t you ashamed? Tying up your enemy like this just to beat him? What are you, a damn street thug? Has Lycan grown so weak it can’t fight fair anymore?" Bam!! Zeran slammed his fist into the man’s jaw. "You’d die the second we fought hand to hand. Your half-blood wolf strength is pathetic against mine." He grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair, forcing him to meet his eyes. "And a corpse doesn’t talk." Then he shoved his face away. Zeran took a towel from his underling and wiped the blood off his hands. "Now talk! Who’s your mastermind?" His gaze was sharp enough to cut. "You know who it is. Your crazy little slut! She paid me!" Zeran turned his neck slowly, stretching it out as if trying to shake off the tension, then sighed in annoyance. "Lindsey asked you to make sure the baby died. But—" Zeran scoffed. "You did it in public? In a crowd where Renar could’ve easily spotted her? And..." he chuckled, stepping closer, "not to mention the coincidence of Renar getting that fake countryside client call. Then... Varrel’s omega! The one who drove the van carrying Lethia, didn’t even bother chasing Renar’s car with her inside. Instead, he killed the other omegas. Turns out, he used to be a Virethrax member." The man’s expression began to stiffen. Zeran smirked. "Ah... my deepest condolences for your loss. Varrel butchered him without mercy, and that led me to catch you. Still mourning your brother, are you?" "Shut up!" "What I don’t get is—Lindsey gave you the order, Varrel gave it to your brother. But why does it feel like you both work for someone else entirely?" The corner of the man’s eye twitched. His nostrils flared, clearly not pleased with Zeran’s words. Then he let out a mocking chuckle. "If you know that much... you should also know Varrel Quinnel might’ve already got that woman. Shouldn’t you run and save her? Who knows, this time, you might really lose your little pup." Slamm! Bugg! Bugg! Zeran smacked the man’s head, followed by two brutal punches to his gut and chest, enough to make him cough blood and gasp, struggling for air. Zeran’s clenched fists trembled with rage. But maybe, deep down, he wasn’t just furious at that bastard; he was mad at himself. He’d asked Caelum to go with Lethia just so he could catch this fucking lowlife. He should’ve trusted his instinct more, should’ve known Lethia going back home was a damn mistake. Something felt off. Everything could’ve been a setup. And he was too fucking late to realise that Adam was a mole planted by Varrel. He could only hope Caelum would do something to protect her. But right now, he needed to dig out the core truth before this bastard decided to kill himself and drag his secrets to the grave. The screech of the warehouse door made Zeran turn his head. One of his men jogged over to him, handing him a phone. Zeran took it, then gave a crooked, satisfied grin. He stepped closer to the man chained to the chair. "I see you’re a filial son and a good father." Zeran showed the phone, flashing a photo of an old woman and a little girl picking flowers in a garden. "You hid them well. I had to use extra muscle just to track them down," he scoffed. The man’s bloodied lips stiffened. His mouth fell open, and his eyes widened in sheer panic. "Don’t touch them." His voice trembled. He stared at Zeran with pure disgust. Zeran chuckled as he handed the phone back to his underling. "Now, tell me. Who are you working for?" The man lowered his head and took a deep breath. The sound of the silver chains clinking echoed as his fists clenched tightly, like he was about to spill a dangerous secret. "Promise me one thing: protect my family when I die." Zeran raised a brow. "You can protect them yourself if you tell me right now." "No. Promise me. You’ll keep them under your watch. At least... until my daughter graduates from high school. Promise me, and I’ll tell you everything." His voice had changed drastically. Zeran could hear it. That wasn’t just a plea, it was the sound of a man like he was leaving his last will. Zeran gave a single nod, face deadly serious. And the man smiled, relieved. That nod wasn’t meaningless. Zeran never made empty promises, not even verbal ones. The man let out a heavy breath. "I’ll only say it once. So I suggest you record this in case you need to revisit it." Zeran frowned, impatient, but the weight in the man’s tone made him signal his underling to start recording. Once the chained man saw Zeran’s underling pointing the camera at him, he swallowed hard, shut his eyes, and drew in one last deep breath. The moment he opened his eyes, he spoke fast, as if it all had to be said before the breath left his lungs again. "Name Orvando Agent code OV345666 Client case code Red301567 Passcode vire34orv566 The client is a woman in her 40s holds high-level classified reputation in the organization They call her a Redwwi—" Splart! Blood burst from his mouth and the left side of his chest. Splart! Splart! More blood gushed out, this time from his stomach, heavier, messier. The tension inside the warehouse thickened with dread. When the man chained to the chair stopped moving entirely, Zeran stepped in, slowly approaching. He lifted the man’s slumped head, and his eyes were wide open, lifeless, tears of blood streaking down his cheeks. Zeran pressed two fingers to the man’s neck, checking for a pulse, then leaned in closer to feel his breath through the nose—nothing. He let out an irritated huff. "He’s dead." "What the hell just happened here..." Zeran muttered, staring at the fresh streams of blood pouring from the man’s chest and stomach. The sharp metallic stench filled the air, thick and nauseating. It made Zeran’s gut churn. Some of his men, unable to handle the smell, threw up in the corners of the warehouse. "Cut him loose!" Zeran ordered. Once the chains were removed, his men laid the corpse out flat on the floor. "Sir, look... These look like stab wounds, straight through from behind." One of them pointed to the placement of the injuries on the body. Zeran let out a bitter chuckle. "Stab wounds? Are you fucking kidding me?" No one could explain what the hell had just happened. Silence blanketed the warehouse Even for Zeran, this was the first time he’d witnessed anything like a ghost stabbing. What kind of magic was this? He shut his eyes, replaying the horrifying moment in his head, but he couldn’t catch any sign of where the attack had come from. His memory focused only on how the man spoke so fast, like something was chasing him, as if death itself was clawing at his back. "Give me the recording." Zeran held out his hand for the phone. He stepped past the corpse and glanced back. "Burn the body and hand the ashes to his mother," he said, his brow furrowed. "Tell her he died in the line of duty. Give her proper compensation, and secure a full scholarship for his daughter until she finishes college." "Yes, sir," Zeran’s men replied firmly, already starting to clean up the chaos inside the warehouse. Zeran took one last look at the corpse before turning away. His steps were sharp, rushed, as he made his way to the car. Once he slid into the vehicle and left the warehouse behind, he played the video, replaying the moment the man had spat out that information like he was racing against death. He slowed down the playback, listening carefully. After catching what he needed, he turned off the video and tossed the phone onto the seat beside him. "You heard it, right? Dig into whatever the fuck that message was, and tear down this Virethrax organization to its rotten core," he barked at Derreck, his assistant seated in front beside the driver. "But sir, we’ve already gathered all known intel on Virethrax, and we can’t break into their system." "I don’t give a shit about Virethrax as a whole. I want everything about that goddamn client he mentioned. I don’t care what it takes, just. Get. It. Done." "Yes, sir. And..." "What now?" "I just received an update. Caelum’s in a coma, sir. He’s at the hospital... and Miss Lethia is missing. Caelum’s car and the bodyguards’ were found wrecked at the bottom of a cliff, but there was no trace of Miss Lethia. She’s not at her ranch or anywhere near the Ashcroft properties. She’s completely gone."

Chapter 150: The Warehouse

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