Perfect Omega Chapter 7.1 - Ambush

“Move quickly. Getting noticed won’t do us any good.”

Cooper, lifting a duffel bag in each hand, is dressed in combat gear. Not just Cooper, but everyone except Frank, who emerges yawning from one of the bedrooms, is dressed the same.

The uniforms worn by Security Solutions employees aren’t exactly the same design as military combat gear, but they’re similar. Combat boots and tactical pants with multiple pockets could pass as fashion, but the flame-resistant combat shirt is unmistakably not everyday wear. Add to that the form-fitting, stretchy tops that highlight their physiques, and a group of men dressed like this would leave a strong impression even in passing.

“There are no witnesses except the CCTV anyway.”

This floor has only two rooms, and they’re the only ones staying here. There’s no checkout scheduled, so no housekeepers will be roaming around either.

“Shouldn’t we erase it? Should I tell John to wipe it?”

As Cooper starts putting in his earpiece, the others begin pulling out their own communication devices.

“Why bother? Just act like we’re leaving after an all-night costume party. Sounds plausible, doesn’t it? Isn’t this hotel famous for that kind of thing?”

—I heard the hotel’s famous for the wild parties in its underground club. It’s not Halloween, so a costume party is a flimsy excuse, but Frank’s got a point. Erasing traces unnecessarily looks more suspicious.

John jumps in as soon as the comms line opens.

—Good morning, everyone! Today’s forecast for our destination: 16 degrees Celsius, 50 percent humidity, no rain, perfect weather for an operation.

Everyone tunes out the pilot-imitating comms like it’s background radio, grabbing their final gear and leaving the room.

“Frank, are you staying here?”

“No, once our son wakes up, I’m heading back to the Plaza.”

Frank glances around the spotless table, checking his wristwatch. It’s ten minutes past six.

Five men spent the night in this room, and it took exactly ten minutes to clean up every trace, get dressed, and move all their bags. Not bad.

Frank surveys the suddenly empty room and closes the suite’s door.

“We’ll brief on the way. The target is Locke W. Rose. The operation site is an island 200 kilometers from here. According to John’s intel, the island was privately owned by Victor Rose and has always been managed as private property. There’s just one villa used by the family, so no residents live there. There are three researchers besides Locke, and there are security guards, but the contract’s with Robo Solutions.”

“Robo? That’s literally just a rent-a-cop outfit. Why go with them? Even for a drug manufacturer, isn’t that too complacent for a private island?”

“The one who contracted the security company wasn’t Locke.”

“Then who?”

—Victor Rose, the mad scientist’s father.

Nick stays quiet during briefings, but when side chatter starts, John jumps in.

—Not just the security company. Victor paid for the researchers’ salaries, lab construction, and material purchases, everything.

“A real kangaroo clan.”

“Focus.”

—Yes, boss.

“Neutralizing the guards won’t be hard. What we need to watch out for is biochemical attacks. Locke’s a researcher who’s comfortable in a lab. If cornered, he’ll likely use the most familiar method to defend or attack. He could release chemicals or drugs from the lab in vapor form or dump them as powder, so check your personal gear for gas masks now. Don’t leave them on the chopper.”

“Checked.”

“Got it.”

“Confirmed.”

Following basic protocols is non-negotiable. That’s Security Solutions’ field policy. No matter how routine, when the field commander gives an order, it must be followed immediately. Since Nick said to check now, the team complies like obedient kids, physically checking their gear and verbally confirming.

“Just neutralize everyone. Same for the security staff.”

“They’ll shoot at us.”

“Then you shoot back. Just aim for non-lethal spots. The place we’re going to is, on paper, a registered research lab, whatever it’s really like.”

“Uh… boss? Question. Has the drug manufacturing facility been confirmed? We’re not going to get there and find out there’s no lab or something, right?”

—That’s the place. The phone listed in the ledger was traced to that island.

John cuts in to answer instead.

The phone used to communicate with the drug dealer was an unregistered prepaid phone. The user’s identity couldn’t be traced, but the call records remained.

“That doesn’t mean everyone there’s a conspirator. And the staff we’ll encounter are all formally registered employees, so no killing. Turn on your monitors.”

At Nick’s command, the team looks down at their wrists.

It looks like a thick band at a glance, but it can unfold into a screen of the desired size when needed. As a wearable device, it’s curved to fit the body when not in use. Given the tight space, they unfold it to palm-sized screens only.

“I’ve sent the lab’s floor plan. Simon, you’re on the exterior. Hugh and Cooper, interior. I’ll handle Locke. Any questions?”

The moment they heard the security was handled by Robo Solutions, the tension vanished. The operation is straightforward, so there’s nothing to ask. The only question comes from chatty John.

—Hey, boss? Is Chairman Rose coming along?

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Even as a joke, hearing Owen’s name in a moment like this isn’t welcome. Nick doesn’t hide his irritation.

—No, I mean, he’s not coming along… uh, wait?

“John. There’s a time and place for jokes. Think carefully.”

Nick tries to tolerate his team’s quirks, including John’s loose tongue, but family-related jokes are in bad taste. That’s not something he can let slide.

—It’s not a joke, boss. I’m serious. After last night’s elevator incident, I was spooked and installed a location tracker on Chairman Rose’s phone during dinner. And now, it’s showing—

“What, that he’s with us?”

Cooper interrupts, incredulous.

—No. It’s showing he’s on Victor’s island.

John’s voice through the comms is dead serious, with no hint of playfulness.

—Specifically, since 3 a.m. today.

❊

Slap!

The sound of flesh being struck jolted him awake.

“Time to wake up, Sleeping Prince. I’m tired of waiting.”

The voice registered before his blurry vision cleared.

“Locke…?”

His throat felt parched, like it was splitting. Forming clear words was difficult. There was a faint taste of blood too.

Owen flicked the tip of his tongue to lick his lips. Fresh, unclotted blood smeared into his mouth. Come to think of it, not just his lips but his left cheek stung too. The sharp slap he’d thought was some distant sound must have been the sound of his own cheek being struck.

“What’s that, wagging your tail the moment you wake up? Cheap omegas. That’s all they know how to do.”

It sounded like Locke’s voice, but Owen was confused about what it meant and whether it was even directed at him.

Sometimes, people say things that make you want to say, “I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” but pinpointing where the misunderstanding began feels so daunting that you give up. Owen thought this was one of those moments.

Instead of responding clumsily, Owen waited for his focus to sharpen and traced his memory.

Last night, he had definitely fallen asleep in his own bed. He’d felt guilty for his ridiculous misunderstanding about Nick. At the same time, he was deeply grateful and relieved. He’d drifted off, enveloped in Nick’s lingering scent on the bed.

Then a call came. He didn’t check the time in his groggy state, but it felt like the middle of the night. It was about Aunt Catherine being critically ill, and his uncle’s voice said he had a car waiting outside the Rose Mansion, asking if Owen would come to the hospital with him.

Owen threw on whatever clothes he could grab, raced down the stairs, and opened the front door. Then a damp cloth pressed against his face, and his memory cut off.

“Aunt Catherine?”

His voice still sounded hoarse, but it was easier to speak than before. It was a sign his paralyzed muscles were starting to loosen.

“No idea. It’s still too early for her to be up, isn’t it? Probably sleeping in her townhouse.”

…She’s not critically ill. That’s a relief. But then, what’s going on with my uncle?

Owen still didn’t fully grasp the situation, but the damp cloth was likely an anesthetic, which means this is a crime. Or something close to a crime.

But why would his uncle be in league with Locke? What are they conspiring about?

“Owen, can you come down now? I’m scared to go to the hospital alone to see Catherine.”

His uncle’s voice from last night’s call echoed in his confused mind. There were a couple more words after that, but Locke stopped the playback there.

“Sounds the same, right? If you calm down and listen closely, you might sense something off. But when you’re startled awake by shocking news, well, you might fall for it. Still, if it were me, I wouldn’t have.”

The sneering face came into sharper focus now. His cousin, whom he hadn’t seen in years, was the same as ever. Still openly displaying an unexplainable sense of superiority and hostility.

“It was AI.”

As the muscles controlling his speech loosened, the foggy haze in his mind began to clear.

Owen lowered his head and quietly checked his body first. The first thing he noticed was a slight floating sensation. Looking again, he realized the chair he was sitting in was elevated slightly off the ground. Because of this, he could easily meet the gaze of someone standing nearby without lifting his head.

Next, he noticed the silver belts around both his ankles. Thick, metallic cylinders encircled his ankles, resembling shackles. Similar metal cylinders were around his wrists, seemingly designed to keep his arms pinned to the sides of the chair.

“Starting to get the picture?”

As if giving Owen time to assess his situation, Locke spoke just as Owen finished looking himself over.

“I might have overestimated you. I remembered you as some monstrous figure and used a dose to match, but in the end, it was a bit much, huh? I got nervous thinking I might’ve accidentally sent you off with an anesthetic. Even after the antidote, you wouldn’t wake up, so I got impatient and slapped you.”

“…Why are you doing this?”

“Ha. Owen Rose. Chairman Rose.”

Locke slowly turned around. Now Owen noticed Locke was wearing a lab coat.

“Yeah, I read it in a book. They say perpetrators don’t realize they’re perpetrators, right?”

He was making less and less sense. Who’s the perpetrator here?

Locke methodically dusted off a pair of medical gloves and slipped them on with practiced ease. He even put on goggles, though Owen had no idea what for.

“Oh, the gear? Don’t get too tense. Even for a minor test, you have to follow basic safety protocols. Accidents always happen when you skip those little rules, don’t they?”

Then he snapped open a translucent plastic container longer than his finger and pulled out a swab.

Owen knew what it was. A tool for genetic testing. But why?

“Locke, about what you just said. If you’re talking about something from when we were kids…”

But he couldn’t continue. Locke’s hand roughly grabbed Owen’s chin. The grip was so strong it felt like he might crush his jaw.

Locke was on the smaller side for an alpha. Owen wasn’t sure, having met him only briefly as adults, but standing side by side, Locke might be about the same size as Owen or even slightly shorter. Still, he was an alpha. The unexpected strength made Owen genuinely think Locke meant to shatter his jaw at first. Thankfully, the grip loosened slightly, but the next moment, the cut on his lip stung sharply.

Then Owen remembered the swab Locke had just taken from the kit. Instead of scraping cheek cells, it seemed Locke decided to use blood. Instead of dabbing the swab on the cut, Locke pressed with his finger, deliberately tearing it open further. He was intentionally worsening the wound to draw more blood. The taste of blood filled Owen’s mouth again.

But Locke soon let go, acting as if it was a routine sample collection, and turned back to the lab bench. He deftly cut the swab’s tip, dropped it into a tube with solution, and shook it vigorously. His eyes, staring at Owen, looked lifeless and detached, but his hand shaking the tube was aggressive. After shaking it excessively, he placed the tube in the analyzer and pressed a button.

“It’ll be ready soon. Less than ten minutes.”

He seemed to be referring to the analyzer’s results.

“Locke, it was an accident. I’ve apologized many times, but if that incident still hurts you, I’m sorry. It wasn’t intentional at all, but I’m sorry. So undo this. You’re standing on a very dangerous line right now.”

“A line? What line?”

“This is kidnapping and confinement.”

“No, it’s not. Capturing a subject needed for an experiment can’t be called kidnapping. And confinement? Even zoo veterinarians use tranquilizer darts for treatment. It’s unavoidable, right? The animal, acting on instinct, might try to bite the vet despite good intentions. Some restraint is inevitable to avoid unfortunate outcomes.”

“…”

He’s not normal. There seems to be something wrong with Locke’s thought process right now.

If Owen has insecurities about feeling inadequate as an omega, he thought Locke had insecurities about being overpowered by an omega he’d always considered weaker.

They’d both been caught in an accident neither should have had to endure, each suffering in their own way. Since their personalities were different, their ways of expressing and overcoming it were different too. Owen had assumed they were both grappling with similar pain in their own ways.

Now, he strongly felt that the foundation of that understanding was fundamentally wrong.

“Undo this, Locke. I’m not your test subject.”

“…No.”

A short beep from the analyzer signaled that the results were ready, but Locke’s attention was fixed on Owen.

“You can’t be a test subject because you’re a monster. Normally, experiments are conducted on subjects with typical traits. At first, I just wanted to quietly do good for the world. That’s how good deeds are done, right? Silently, without anyone knowing who did it.”

“…If you’ve developed a new drug independently, bring it to our company. Of course, it’ll need verification. That’s procedure. You know as well as I do that drug trials take time, but if the results are good, your name will get out there. I promise.”

“Owen, Owen.”

A single finger in a blue nitrile glove wagged side to side, signaling no. At the same time, there was a clucking sound of tongue-clicking.

“The drug I developed doesn’t need validation from Rose Pharmaceuticals. It doesn’t even need FDA approval, so how dare you, of all people, think you can review my research and decide whether it goes to market?!”

Another slap rang out, and Owen’s head snapped to the side. Unable to resist the force, his head drooped. A few drops of blood fell onto his clothes.

“The drug I spent years developing is already circulating in the market. It’s been validated. It’s being treated as extremely valuable. Sure, not at its true worth, but what can you do? Not everyone’s born rich like us, so we have to lower the price so they can afford it. The important thing is, people are lining up to buy my drug, got it?!”

“…What drug?”

With that kind of fame, Owen couldn’t possibly not know about it. But had there been a new drug that debuted so dramatically in recent years? No name came to mind immediately.

Locke, swapping gloves, looked at Owen’s curious expression as if savoring it.

“I sent you a gift too. Why pretend you don’t know? So hypocritical.”

A gift… sent to me?

Plenty of gifts, public and private, come addressed to Chairman Rose.

Did the secretarial office handle it? Maybe the lingering effects of the anesthetic were clouding his memory.

“Acid Pheromone.”

“…What?”

“You need another slap to snap out of it? Why keep pretending you don’t understand?”

He said that but didn’t raise his hand again.

“You… made that?”

“What, drugs aren’t medicine? Are you saying only FDA-approved, prescription drugs count as medicine?”

Locke let out a derisive snort.

“I could’ve quietly taken you out, but that would’ve deprived the world of its right to know. People need to know what you are. If you’d properly inhaled it at Pier 6, it would’ve been quite a show, wouldn’t it?”

…What?

No sound came out.

Could that possibly be true?

He wanted to ask why, but his lips only moved silently, no sound escaping.

“Why? How can someone so dim-witted still hold that position? Man, the world’s unfair. Imagine it. How you’d react to an overdose of Acid Pheromone. Oh, have you never done drugs? Is that why you don’t get it? Hmm… well, that’s possible. Then I can kindly explain.”

Locke walked to a nearby desk and tapped the keyboard. Soon, a recorded video appeared on a large monitor.

There was no sound, but the person’s pain was palpable through the visuals alone.

“That’s Omega 13. Recessive trait. Exposed to six times the recommended dose of Acid Pheromone. It looks painful, but it’s not pain—it’s just extreme arousal. Well, since the arousal isn’t being satisfied, maybe that’s painful?”

The person labeled Omega 13 was crawling on the floor in the video. It looked like they were scratching the ground with their nails. The areas their fingers passed over were slightly darker. It wasn’t clear due to the floor’s color, but it seemed like blood was flowing.

“What happens with an overdose? It’s the same as any drug. Skipping the details, the bottom line is you die from shock. But a skilled researcher like me knows the dosage that won’t kill the subject. Here’s the really fun part. This isn’t just a stimulant—it’s a cocktail mixed with synthetic pheromones. Think of it like a mix of a heat cycle inducer, methamphetamine, and a hallucinogen, with a few sweeteners added for flavor. It’s like setting off a red alert in your body’s chemical factory.”

Locke raised his hands, mimicking the motion of a conveyor belt running in his body.

“Recessive or dominant, it doesn’t matter. It draws out every bit of energy your body can muster to overdrive your hormone and pheromone glands. It’s abuse. You end up releasing an amount of pheromones you’ve never produced in your life. Left alone, you’d crawl on the floor, desperate to mate with anyone, looking like that. Imagine it, Owen Rose. That day, on the pier with nothing to shield you, Chairman Rose pouring out pheromones and begging. People would’ve been thrilled, filming it on their phones and posting it online.”

Owen felt the blood drain from his face.

“And you’re not just any omega. You’d probably try to kill someone, like you did to me. A couple of poor alphas nearby, maybe a few more, might’ve been sacrificed, but sacrifices for the greater good are always necessary. Without evidence like that, how could I prove to the world that you’re the monster? Not me! You! That you’re the one who’s wrong!!”

“…What happened to that person?”

Finally, a sound came from his throat. His racing heart began to slow. The protocols for handling attacks or kidnapping risks naturally surfaced in his mind.

Staying calm is key. Don’t fall into panic.

“Wouldn’t be fun if I told you everything.”

A mocking smile spread across Locke’s face.

The video vanished from the monitor. A familiar screen appeared instead. The two-meter-long monitor filled with a single document. A DNA analysis report.

“Let’s see. The gene for black hair color, here. The gene for activating freckles, turned off, so that checks out.”

Flipping through the screen with his finger, Locke paused at each section highlighting Owen’s traits, pointing them out and explaining one by one. Without hearing more, Owen knew this was the analysis report from the blood sample processed in the analyzer moments ago.

“The eyes. Oh, right, the eyes are wrong to begin with. This creepy color.”

The tip of the pen Locke was holding tapped the monitor. Tap. Tap. Tap.

“They say if you see one thing, you can know ten. In the old days, Owen, a baby born with your combination would’ve been abandoned as a bad omen the moment they were born. Maybe that’s what should’ve happened. If it had, you wouldn’t have hurt me, that arrogant doctor wouldn’t have gotten on my nerves, and as a result, your parents might still be alive. Being civilized isn’t always such a great thing, is it?”

“…What?”

“In a barbaric era, no one would’ve batted an eye at killing an unlucky newborn.”

Misinterpreting that Owen didn’t understand the last sentence, Locke added a strange elaboration.

“No! Not that—my parents! What do you mean my parents might still be alive?”

Locke’s expression first seemed flustered, then twisted into a cruel smile. Instead of answering directly or explaining, Locke slowly walked over and tapped Owen’s cheek with the pen.

“Oh, dear… I made an uncharacteristic slip. Well, it doesn’t matter now even if you know.”

“My parents… didn’t die in a helicopter crash?”

His voice trembled.

“That’s right.”

The reply came without hesitation.

“Do you… know something about that crash?”

“Maybe… I do?”

One corner of Locke’s mouth curled upward.

“Does it have anything to do with my uncle?”

Cutting through Locke’s playful attitude, Owen asked a pointed question.

“No. My father’s too refined for that. He stayed quiet even when his brother snatched the throne right in front of him. The most he did toward the nephew who ruined his son was call a board meeting. What’s that? Sitting him down at a conference table like a teacher checking homework? It’s pointless, no substance at all. If you decide to punish someone, you act. Like an alpha. Like me.”

“…What did you do?”

“Me? I didn’t do anything. Come on. I’m a Rose too. Dirty work is for others. Like your boyfriend. A guard dog, right? Why doesn’t New York high society kick out a low-class omega like you, who’d even mate with a dog? Is being chairman that prestigious?”

“…”

Owen decided to ignore the provocation involving Nick.

“Well, let’s see if they’ll still accept you as one of their own after today.”

“You still haven’t answered what you did.”

“Hm? Oh, you were waiting for that?”

Locke, who had been heading back to the monitor, turned around again.

“It’s no big deal. Just bribed a dumb mechanic. I could’ve been more creative, but you have to cut me some slack—I was young back then.”

“…!”

When his parents died, Owen was fifteen, so Locke would’ve just turned eighteen. It’s hard to believe, but Locke had just confessed to a crime with his own mouth.

Or was it a bluff?

“Locke, did you sabotage the crash?”

Owen asked clearly again to confirm.

“Stupid omega. Do I have to say it twice every time? I did it, I said I did it!”

“Why? My parents never did anything to you. Why on earth?!”

“When did I say I killed your uncle?”

His expression seemed to say, “What are you talking about?”

Owen wanted to ask the same thing, but Locke’s demeanor was so confident that he started to wonder if this was all just an elaborate, cruel prank.

“I was trying to take out Kim.”

A bored voice cut into the pause as Owen tried to gather his thoughts.

The only Kim Owen knew was one person.

“Are you talking about Dr. Kim from the Alpha Center?”

“Doctors! If they’re doctors, they’re supposed to heal injuries. I was clearly a victim, attacked and wounded by a monster like you. Three years! I gave them three whole years, and all they could say was it’s psychosomatic?!”

Locke’s face turned ferocious in an instant.

“They put him in the Alpha Center director’s chair, paid him a fat salary, and he couldn’t offer a single treatment?! Telling me to just live with a clear mind and turning his back—how is that a doctor?! A useless, arrogant old man. People like him, who blame their incompetence on the patient, should be erased from the world, don’t you think?”

Owen knew Locke had been in counseling with the Alpha Center’s doctor for three years after the incident. But he’d heard it was unrelated to that incident. Owen had confirmed there were no lasting physical effects from the trauma. Still, his parents had been concerned. Every time Aunt Sarah called crying, they thought it was an emergency and even sent a helicopter.

“My parents were genuinely sorry for you.”

“I know. I liked them too. I’m telling you, the target of my blade of justice that day was that arrogant Kim.”

“…”

Suddenly, Locke’s intelligence seemed questionable.

“My parents were in that helicopter. So was the pilot.”

“I didn’t know they’d be on board that day. …Honestly, since we’ve come this far, I’ll say it: even if I had known, I would’ve gone ahead. Collateral damage—unavoidable side effects happen in the war for justice, right?”

He sounded like a deranged warmonger.

“Did you… really kill my parents?”

Locke gave an incomprehensible look at Owen’s question. It definitely wasn’t guilt.

“I see now how little the chairman title cares about qualifications. Can’t understand unless I say it twice, stupid Chairman Owen Rose?!”

Judging by his words, it was probably an incredulous expression.

“You’re… insane. I get it now.”

“Heh. Well, genius often comes with being called crazy, so I’m not too offended. If that was your goal, you failed. You haven’t landed a single effective hit, Owen. Look here. It’s my time now, so stop interrupting. Where was I?”

His mood swings were wildly erratic. Locke returned to analyzing the data on the monitor with the perfect demeanor of a researcher, as if nothing had happened.

“Oh, your nutrient balance is almost perfect. At least in this regard, you’re an ideal test subject. Impressive, Owen.”

Locke glanced away from the monitor to look at Owen, clapping his hands dramatically without making a sound.

“And the information we need to focus on today is right here. You wouldn’t understand, so I’ll read it for you. It’s your pheromone levels. See now? They’re in the normal range right now, but that’s a trick. A trick suppressed by inhibitors. You know it, I know it, but the world doesn’t know yet.”

Something cold touched his neck. Goosebumps spread instantly from his neck to his arms.

“Calm down, Chairman Rose. This is just a sensor to monitor the experiment’s progress. It’ll check your heart rate to make sure you don’t die midway, and most importantly, there are ultra-fine needles inside this choker that will continuously draw your blood for analysis. Normally, it’s every ten minutes, but I’m too curious to wait, so let’s go with every five minutes for you.”

The person in the video shown earlier was wearing a choker too. Owen had thought it was just a tacky accessory, not a sensor. He tensed, fearing Locke might try to make him like the person in the video, but thankfully, Locke stepped back after attaching the choker.

“Oh, Number 13’s clothes were removed by their own hands. Not me.”

As if reading relief in Owen’s eyes, Locke quickly added.

“And you’ll be like that soon too. Every moment leading up to that will be recorded, lingering forever even after you’re gone. Isn’t that cool?”

His sleeve was rolled up. A cold alcohol swab roughly wiped over his vein.

“I was going to increase the dose more, but maybe it’s better to raise it gradually?”

He seemed to be referring to his earlier mistake with the excessive anesthetic dose. The needle stung briefly.

Locke tossed the used syringe into the trash and sat at the desk. He typed something while looking at the monitor, likely logging the injected dose.

“I don’t know how much you know about Acid Pheromone, but one key fact is that it takes effect very quickly. Almost instantaneous, you could say.”

Maybe because of his words, Owen felt his breathing quicken slightly. A grating beeping sound came from somewhere. It was coming from the monitor. The beeping was likely a warning about his suddenly racing heart rate.

Locke went to check the monitor, but Owen didn’t need to look to know. He could feel his body temperature rising. And, disturbingly, he felt a clenching sensation in his abdomen.

Still, outwardly, Locke seemed more excited than Owen. Flipping through the monitor’s data with his fingers, he pointed at one spot and spread his fingers to zoom in.

“Here. Compared to ten minutes ago, your pheromone levels have spiked dramatically. See? You’re about to hit the upper limit of the normal range… Owen, you don’t realize how incredible this is, do you? Other test subjects were already frantically pawing at themselves by this point.”

Spinning away from the monitor, Locke wore the most delighted expression Owen had ever seen on him.

“I’m going to release the control group’s results, your face right now, and these numbers. Of course, the scene that follows will be a bonus.”

“…The police will track you.”

Speaking was getting harder, forcing him to break short sentences into fragments. If he put in even a little effort, he felt like he’d vomit on his own lap. His heart was beating too fast. His stomach churned.

“Do you think I’d just post it online? Foolish. I won’t get traced, and no one will know I did it. The only one disgraced will be you, alive or dead.”

Instead of responding further, Owen focused on regulating his breathing. He only noticed Locke’s face approaching when he heard sniffing sounds.

“It’s starting to leak out a bit? Nice. You’re holding up well, but let’s see.”

Locke stepped back again. Clattering sounds came from the lab bench as he rummaged through something.

“There are truths in this world you have to accept, even if you hate them, Owen Rose. And you’ve done me a great wrong. Today, I’ll personally teach you a lesson and give you a chance to apologize, so look forward to it. Even someone as proud as you won’t be able to resist bowing.”

Locke paused mid-sentence and chuckled to himself.

“It’s a bit of a spoiler, but since you look like you’re about to lose it, I’ll tell you now: yes, you’ll be crawling on the floor, begging.”

The eyes behind the goggles gleamed with delight. Then, without hesitation, he administered the second shot.

“Let’s see how long it takes for you to drip all over the chair you’re sitting on, begging for just one thrust.”

Locke raised his wrist, pretending to check the time.

“Thirty minutes?”

“…Bastard.”

“What? What did you say?”

Locke leaned in to catch the half-formed word from Owen’s drooping head.

“Couldn’t even… calculate the dose… properly, you… stupid bastard.”

Owen spat out the sentence quickly between gasping breaths, then focused on breathing again.

“What did you say?!”

He wanted to repeat it—you used an excessive dose, you stupid, crazy bastard—but he couldn’t move his lips anymore. The nausea intensified.

It seemed like his certifiably insane cousin’s expectations for him to get aroused would be thwarted by shock coming first.

Beep—beep—

The monitor, which had quieted after a brief clamor, erupted with the same warning sound as before. Locke’s footsteps hurriedly moved away, then approached again.

“No. No way. Not like this, not so pathetically.”

Muttering to himself and frantically rummaging through the lab bench again, his voice was audible.

“There’s no antidote for my drug, but I can dilute it.”

Owen couldn’t tell if another syringe was injected. He could no longer feel sensations that subtle.

“I’ll tell you how the filming will go. I’ll set you free on the floor. You’ll strip yourself in a frenzy, right? Your raw, desperate voice begging for someone to take you, to do something to you, will be captured as Owen Rose’s authentic voice.”

“Ugh… ugh…”

It wasn’t arousal; he was gasping for air. He’d planned to kick Locke the moment the metal restraints on his ankles were removed, but he couldn’t even twitch a toe.

“Once you’re crawling on the floor, spilling all sorts of filth, I’ll make my entrance. With my face obscured, of course.”

“…Ugh!”

Suddenly, his neck was yanked. He fell from the elevated chair to the floor in an instant. Only then did he realize his hands and feet were free. Even the simple act of propping himself up on the floor made his breath catch in his throat, and he gave up, lying flat on the ground. His vision seemed to be clouding over.

“Then a generous alpha, unable to leave a pitiful omega in such a state, steps in with compassion.”

“Haa… haa… haa…”

It felt like every organ in his body was melting. At the very least, his abdomen felt so hot and clenched it seemed like it was breaking down. Humiliatingly, as Locke had predicted, his backside was wet, and his pants were already a mess.

“Ah… ha! That’s it!”

And now, dragged to the floor, Locke seemed to have noticed.

The end of the chain attached to the choker was in Locke’s hand. He kept shaking the chain, as if enjoying the clinking sound it made with every movement. Then, with a sudden tug, Owen was pulled forward.

“Hurk… hurk…”

For the first time, Owen wanted to abandon his principles. If he truly had monstrous strength, if that strength could be unleashed through anger, he wished it would manifest now. If he could use that power again, this time he’d aim for this lunatic without hesitation. If he could just see this madman foaming at the mouth and collapsing one more time!

But, as before, the ability within Owen didn’t respond to his will this time either.

Why wouldn’t it come out when he was this enraged…? Maybe it only reacted when directly exposed to an alpha’s pheromones. Both previous incidents had been like that. Though all his senses felt dulled, his sensitivity to pheromones seemed heightened. He still couldn’t detect any pheromones from Locke.

“Hey, Chairman Rose. If you want something, you have to beg.”

The churning in his stomach subsided. Perhaps all the moisture in his body had evaporated from the searing heat, as even the urge to vomit was gone. Maybe everything inside him was already starting to break down. The one certainty was that his entire body was unbearably hot.

The only silver lining was that his tongue might melt and become useless before he could beg in the way Locke wanted to capture on video. The absurdity of the thought made him laugh, even in this situation.

“You!!”

“Ugh!”

The choker’s leash was yanked harshly again. Through his blurry vision, he saw brown loafers. After a few tugs, he’d been dragged right to Locke’s feet.

“Hrrk!”

An icy hand slipped inside his pants. Whether Locke’s hand was naturally cold or Owen’s body was so overheated that it felt cold, the fingers brutally probing between his buttocks were so chilling they gave him goosebumps. Owen shuddered.

Having apparently confirmed what he wanted, the fingers withdrew, but Owen continued to tremble with chills.

“See that?”

Through his hazy vision, he saw a glistening hand. Locke was deliberately waving it in front of his face.

“You saw, right? You’re dripping this filthy mess. Is this because you don’t know what to say or how to beg? Well, I guess right now, your kind only has one thing on your mind.”

Keeping the chain attached to the choker taut, Locke moved. Each slight movement tugged at Owen’s neck, but with no strength left in his arms to move his body, he let himself be pulled along.

“Soon, I’ll show you a world you never dared dream of. Well, it might hurt a bit before that.”

A giggling laugh came from above his head.

The moment he thought he might suffocate and die like this, the chain loosened again.

“But, that’s weird? Why aren’t you releasing pheromones? That’s not what the data says.”

Locke crouched down beside him.

“Did I use too little? It’s supposed to stabilize for safety… Or did I overestimate you? Were you just a mediocre omega after all, Owen Rose? Hmm?”

At that moment, an indescribably revolting smell flooded his nose. He’d thought his stomach had settled, but that was a mistake. Owen vomited yellow bile onto the floor.

There was, of course, no food left in his stomach. No matter how much he retched, nothing more came up, but his overturned stomach refused to return to normal. The pheromone smell was that nauseating.

“Hmm… what, too easy?”

Locke’s muttering mixed with the sound of Owen retching above his head.

“Want to take in my pheromones, Owen Rose? Should I personally imprint you? If you willingly accept, it’d make filming easier, but it’d be less fun for me… I’ll give you that choice.”

A disturbingly wet hand touched his face. It slapped his cheeks repeatedly, as if to snap him out of it. Then, the next moment, an even more repulsive smell hit him, worse than what he’d smelled through his nose. It wasn’t just smelled—it was felt.

The moment he felt the crushing weight of pheromones pressing down on him, a change stirred within Owen’s body.

It’s happening!

He felt strength returning to his arms. He lifted his upper body slightly off the floor. It was a bit different from before—just a feeling that it was about to start—but it was happening. He’d block Locke’s forced imprinting, of course, and with great pleasure, he’d take down this lunatic…

“Guh!”

Sudden pain in his abdomen made it hard to breathe. Owen curled into a ball and collapsed back onto the floor. It had seemed like it was starting, but as Locke’s pheromones cut off, it vanished too.

“You monster!!”

Locke’s footsteps hurriedly moved away. From the frantic clattering, it seemed he’d returned to the lab bench.

“The dose was too low. For a monster, you need a monster’s dose.”

Approaching again, Locke wasn’t wearing gloves or goggles this time. He forcibly pulled one of Owen’s hands, clutching his stomach, and rolled up his sleeve.

“Crawl around here on your own until not a drop of pheromones is left in your body. No matter how much you beg or plead, I’m not coming back for the next three hours. If you can’t hold out, grab anything that looks remotely phallic and shove it in. I’ll even loosen the chain for you. But if you tear yourself up doing that, don’t expect me to treat you. You tried to attack your master, so you can’t expect that from me!”

He felt his hair being pulled, then another slap of flesh being struck. He must’ve been hit somewhere, but such contact felt dull now.

Then, suddenly, the sensation of his hair being pulled stopped. The floor seemed to shake briefly. A pained scream came from a distance. It sounded exactly like Locke’s voice.

Why…? Owen couldn’t defend or attack anymore…

If he had to be called a monster, shouldn’t he at least be able to use that power in this moment?

It was so unfair. Why had he lived hearing such harsh words for a power he couldn’t even control at will?

He’d thought all his senses were dulled, but the stream flowing down his cheeks was hot.

Nick…

Tears fell from injustice, or perhaps anger.

Or maybe from longing for someone he’d never see again. The tears, burning his cheeks as they fell to the floor, were so hot that Owen closed his eyes.

“Owen!!”

It was the voice of the person he longed to see. But how could Nick be here? Nick was supposed to be far away, working with his team today.

“Owen. Owen? It’s me. Can you hear my voice?”

There were hallucinogens too, weren’t there… So this is what drugs are like. The mental confusion is starting.

❊

The moment Nick heard that Owen’s location was the island where Locke’s lab was, his blood ran cold.

The plan had been to take out the target leisurely and return home. He was going to look deeply into Owen’s blue eyes and propose seriously. Without delay, right after getting back home. Maybe even in the entrance hall.

And when the opportunity arose, he’d reveal the truth about the villain who’d been tormenting Owen, reassuring him that they’d never bother him again. Maybe, in his excitement, he’d even make an embarrassingly cheesy confession about protecting him. He was so eager for the response those beautiful blue eyes would show that his hands, gripping the rifle, trembled faintly.

It all feels like a dream from some distant time.

“Boss, three minutes to arrival.”

Simon’s voice, coming through the in-ear, was subdued.

After Frank’s confirmation that the Rose Mansion was empty and John’s final verification of Owen’s location, a heavy silence settled over the helicopter.

The stories Josh, the narcotics agent, had told him wouldn’t leave his mind. He needed to shake them off, but he couldn’t. The image of a victim, used as a test subject in cruel experiments and washed up in a pitiful state along the Hudson River, refused to fade.

Nick pressed the button to open internal comms and called the helicopter pilot.

“Change the descent point. Burke, head straight to the lab building.”

The original plan was to land at a helipad 700 meters from the lab building and infiltrate covertly. But there was no time to waste on a 700-meter trek.

Based on what they’d gathered so far, Locke didn’t seem to be on guard against external intrusions. They might land safely. But if it were Nick’s company, an unscheduled helicopter’s appearance would be met with preemptive gunfire.

“If any security guards come out to meet us, neutralize them from the air.”

Hugh pulled out his rifle and took position at the helicopter’s entrance.

“Aim for arms and legs only.”

Killing is, in a way, easier. Neutralizing without killing is trickier. But as far as they knew, these guards were just employees hired to patrol the lab.

They entered a distance where the helicopter’s approach could be visually confirmed. Fortunately, the lab building’s rooftop was empty. The rooftop was open, without railings, and looked like it could accommodate a helicopter landing if unobstructed.

“Burke, how’s it look?”

—Looks like we can land.

“Good. Land. Everyone, stay alert.”

There was only one entrance. Despite the loud noise, no guards opened the door to come out. Robo Solutions’ security system was lax, but that was a relief for now.

“Grab your gear.”

As soon as the helicopter’s skids touched down, Nick jumped out first.

The moment Hugh stepped off the helicopter, the door connecting to the building opened. Two men in suits, not combat gear, emerged from inside. One walked ahead. The other slowed his pace, touched his comms device, and moved his lips. But before he could exchange more than a few words, he collapsed, clutching his knee. Hugh had shot him in the leg.

The man walking ahead turned around and only then reached inside his jacket, likely trying to open a holster worn like a vest under his suit. Nick walked toward him, pulling out his gun without hesitation and shooting the man’s shoulder. The recoil caused the man’s hand to jerk out of his jacket. The gun he’d drawn from the holster slipped from his weakened grip and flew away limply.

“Argh—!!”

Nick pressed his foot onto the thigh of the first man who’d fallen, and an exaggerated scream erupted. It probably hurt, but it wasn’t a life-threatening wound. Robo Solutions seemed to be just a building security firm, as expected. A proper combat operative would’ve had their gun drawn and in hand before opening that door, not concealed under their clothes.

Nick kept his foot on the wound of the man, who didn’t dare resist under such pain, and searched his suit pockets. The man tensed as Nick’s hands approached, but he couldn’t pull away much due to the pain. Nick unhesitatingly searched the man’s sleeves. An access card came up.

Nick yanked the walkie-talkie and its connected wire from the man’s inner pocket. The in-ear piece connected to the man’s ear came out with it.

He tucked the walkie-talkie into a side pocket of his vest and inserted the stolen in-ear into his empty ear. The in-ear was buzzing with someone urging for a status report.

A few steps away, Cooper was taking an access card and walkie-talkie from the man shot in the shoulder and putting them on. Simon silently pulled out cable ties and bound the hands and feet of the two fallen men.

[Team 2, head to the rear and report the situation.]

Someone issued a new order through Robo Solutions’ comms. The “rear” likely referred to where Nick was standing.

“No control room, huh?”

Cooper, listening to the same comms, remarked.

“No, there is one.”

Simon contradicted him, pointing at a white wall. At the tip of his finger, a CCTV camera was blatantly exposed.

From above, there wasn’t a single window on this side. It was a completely sealed lab wing. A building like this would undoubtedly have a control room monitoring the interior and exterior. It just didn’t seem like Robo Solutions, tasked with building security, had access to it.

The Team 2 sent to check things out didn’t seem particularly threatening, but there was no time to linger. Nick headed to the door the suited men had come from. He swiped the card on the terminal next to the door, and it turned green, unlocking with a click.

As per the operation plan, Simon, assigned to exterior neutralization, stayed outside, while the rest entered. The team members, each assigned their zones, briefly checked the building’s floor plan on their wrist-mounted devices before heading to their respective areas. Nick walked alone down the empty corridor.

He had to find Owen.

Nick opened his senses. The building was vast, but Owen was someone he’d sensed through the carbon steel of a helicopter. If Owen was in this building, he’d find him.

[Rabbit still hasn’t checked in? Did we confirm if this was a scheduled visitor?]

[Rabbit’s in the lab. You know how it is. Once they’re in the lab…]

[No disturbances, got it. I know!]

For security reasons, it’s industry practice to use codenames instead of real names for protected individuals. Since they said “Rabbit” was in the lab, it was likely the codename for Locke.

Nick mentally pulled up the building’s floor plan and located the lab. Double-checking his current position, he headed toward the lab without hesitation.

[Hey, Team 2. Report in.]

The Robo Solutions comms occasionally crackled in his ear. But no one responded to the call.

Simon had taken care of them. The silence, expected for Nick, seemed to frustrate the people on the comms, as urgent orders to head to the lab followed.

[Forget it. I’m going myself.]

Nick passed under a protruding CCTV camera.

If the control room had been properly monitoring, they’d have grasped the situation immediately. Judging by the Robo Solutions staff’s cluelessness over the comms, they definitely didn’t have control room access. That gave Nick a bit more freedom to move.

“…!”

Nick’s brisk steps halted abruptly. To confirm whether the pheromone he’d just caught was one he recognized, he stood rigid as a statue, focusing solely on his senses.

“…!!”

It was Owen’s scent.

The relief of finding him flashed by in an instant, replaced by dread.

Owen didn’t release pheromones. Yet the faint scent he was picking up now was unmistakably a light musk. Owen’s scent. His feet broke into a run.

At the end of a corridor splitting into two, he turned at a right angle without hesitation. In a lab building designed for one person, there wasn’t a single common sign indicating what was where. The massive building was eerily devoid of human presence. But that made it easier to detect the presence of people beyond the corridor.

Two people. Five steps away.

He couldn’t tell what was beyond the emergency exit door, but given the stark interior he’d passed through, the scene outside wouldn’t be much different. It’d likely be an open corridor with no cover.

Nick lowered his gaze to check the handle. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a traditional type. A long, large bar stretched across the middle of the door, protruding outward. It was a panic bar, designed to make the exit easy to find in emergencies. A panic bar that size couldn’t be opened stealthily. The moment he pressed the long bar to open the door, the sound of the lock disengaging would echo through the empty corridor.

“….”

Nick scanned the situation beyond the door once more, then pushed the panic bar without hesitation. He didn’t bother checking the guards’ reactions. He quickly approached and grabbed the neck of the man on the left. There was no choking sound. He’d blocked the carotid artery, cutting off blood flow.

As the man slumped to the floor, Nick twisted the wrist of the man on the right. He didn’t break it completely to avoid a scream, but it was twisted enough that a slight misstep would snap it.

The man with the twisted wrist staggered back, groaning in pain. Nick swiftly yanked the in-ear cord from the man’s ear with his free hand, pulling the walkie-talkie along with it and tossing it to the floor to prevent communication.

“Open it.”

This was the lab, guarded by the two men. But the door was firmly shut.

At Nick’s demand, the man with the twisted joint shook his head.

“Can’t… can’t open it. Out of my clearance!”

He wasn’t lying. Nick had anticipated that possibility.

Nick struck the back of the man’s neck. The man collapsed to the floor without a sound. An access card was in the fallen man’s pocket, but it was the same type Nick already had. Swiping it didn’t open the door.

Nick stared at the metal door.

“….”

Owen was definitely on the other side of this door. But what was making Nick tense now wasn’t Owen—it was the other person. The frenzied, violent aura emanating from someone next to Owen, likely Owen’s cousin, Locke W. Rose, was making Nick anxious.

He drew the gun from behind his waist. His hand, gripping the handle, was clammy with cold sweat. He raised the muzzle, aiming at the access control pad.

Should he shoot…

There was a method to disable the electronic system and force it open. But depending on the access control system, it could trigger an emergency lock, sealing it completely. That was why he hesitated.

“…!!”

Nick’s head snapped up. Another surge of violence was detected from inside.

He couldn’t hesitate any longer. If an emergency lock engaged, he’d unload every firearm he had on it. Even if it didn’t break, he needed to at least draw that lunatic’s attention away from Owen.

As he hooked his finger on the trigger, he sensed another presence approaching. One person this time. A tense one.

Nick pulled the gun to his chest and pressed himself against the wall, positioning himself out of sight from the angle of someone coming up the stairs.

The man ascending the stairs stopped when he saw the fallen guards. After a moment, he retreated two steps back down.

[Code 30, Code 30. All units to the lab.]

A hushed, urgent command came through the stolen in-ear. Code 30 was likely a situation identifier set by Robo Solutions, probably indicating an emergency.

The voice stood out more than the content. It was the same voice that had said they’d go to the lab themselves earlier. Based on the intercepted comms, the person standing at the bottom of the stairs was the head of security here.

Nick extended his gun, aiming at where the man’s shoulder would be. A grunt was followed by return fire. Nick shot the man’s other shoulder. Only then did the heavy sound of a gun hitting the floor echo. Nick descended the stairs and searched the man’s pockets.

“Who… are you?”

The man sprawled pathetically on the floor was a large, blond Caucasian.

Nick pulled a card from the man’s pocket. The card from the security chief’s pocket had a different colored stripe. Nick knocked the man out with a blow to the head and ran to the lab door.

Swiping the card, the white “standby” light disappeared. A green “access granted” light appeared, accompanied by a small mechanical click. But louder than that was the sound of flesh being struck.

The situation was clear before the door even fully opened. It felt like his blood was boiling backward.

Nick strode without hesitation toward the man gripping Owen’s hair, raising his gun at the same time. The man’s hand was extended outward. The sound of the strike Nick had just heard seemed to echo again like an auditory hallucination. Nick held his breath to maintain focus and aimed the gun. He pulled the trigger without hesitation.

“Aaagh!!!”

Even for such minor pain, Locke thrashed and screamed. Not wanting to see filthy blood drip onto Owen’s body, Nick rushed over and kicked Locke’s shoulder. Locke screamed again, tumbling away.

Nick wanted to crush every inch of this bastard’s flesh with his combat boots, starting with the bullet-ridden wrist, until it was pulp. But there was something more urgent than his rage. Nick withdrew his glaring eyes and knelt down.

Owen, gasping heavily, had his eyes closed. It was unclear if he could even hear Nick’s voice.

“Owen. Owen? It’s me. Can you hear my voice?”

There was no response. Nick holstered his gun and lifted Owen with both arms. A repulsive chain was attached to Owen’s neck.

This… lunatic!

“Just hold on. I’ll get it off.”

The chain looked sturdy, but it was connected to a leather choker, so removing the choker seemed easier than breaking the chain. Nick grabbed it to tear it off in one go, but a thin cable caught in his grip.

The visual of the leash was so overwhelming that he hadn’t noticed, but this didn’t seem like a mere accessory. Nick traced the cable with his eyes to see where it led.

The thin cable disappeared under a desk that looked like a lab bench. It was probably connected to a computer inside. That meant it might be collecting data to send to the computer.

Nick crouched over Owen, who appeared unconscious. He carefully lifted Owen’s neck. Sliding his hand inside the choker, he felt around its circumference. As expected, his fingertips brushed against small, protruding objects.

“…!”

He thought a sharp thorn had pricked him, but when he pulled his hand out, there wasn’t a single drop of blood.

“Heh… hehehe… ugh! Hiss!”

In the meantime, Locke had crawled to one corner of the wall. Leaning against it, he alternated between giggling like a madman and groaning in pain from his wound.

Asking what this was wouldn’t likely yield a proper answer.

Beep—beep—beep—beep—

The mechanical sound had been ringing since Nick entered the lab. He turned his head to find its source. There was a chair resembling a dental chair, its purpose unclear, and next to it stood a massive monitor. The sound was coming from the monitor.

Beep—beep—beep—beep—

Nick carefully set Owen down and stood up. During the short walk to the monitor, his heart pounded strangely.

Nick rarely visited hospitals for checkups. He trusted his sensory organs over medical equipment for anything happening in his body. He saw the team doctor often, but only for surgical matters.

Thus, the long graph displayed before him was unfamiliar. He lacked the medical knowledge to interpret it. But he could tell that the flashing red screen and beeping sound were warnings.

“….”

If the numbers on the screen were Owen’s…?!

Nick slid back to Owen’s side. He placed a hand on Owen’s neck to check his pulse, but the heaving of Owen’s chest was enough. At this rate, a heart attack wouldn’t be surprising at any moment. Or a stroke from skyrocketing blood pressure could come first.

He needed to lower the blood pressure immediately. Nick pulled out his first-aid kit and spread it on the floor. Security Solutions’ custom first-aid kit, based on a military emergency kit, contained several antidotes. Two of them were used for patients brought in with drug overdoses. Nick grabbed a syringe without hesitation.

“….”

He paused just before injecting.

Judging by Owen’s pale complexion, it seemed like he was suffocating, but the numbers on the monitor suggested the opposite.

“John, urgent. Get Team Doc.”

Nick pressed the button and called John.

—Yes, boss. Listening.

Thankfully, Team Doc was on standby and connected immediately.

“Can you see my camera feed?”

Security Solutions’ vests had a spot for a camera on the shoulder. Nick stood briefly in front of the monitor so Team Doc could see the screen, then panned to Owen’s condition.

“It looks like Acid Pheromone was injected. I don’t know the dose.”

Nick stood again and panned over the chaotic lab bench. Two empty vials were scattered about, but without knowing how full they’d been initially, he couldn’t calculate the actual dose used.

—We need to lower the blood pressure first. It’s too high.

“Which one do I use?”

The lab bench had various injectables, and they looked legitimate based on their labels, but he couldn’t trust anything here. He was asking which drug from his own emergency kit to use.

—Labetalol should be used to rapidly lower the blood pressure.

Labetalol wasn’t in his personal emergency kit. Before he could say so, Team Doc spoke first.

—It’s in the helicopter. I’ll communicate now.

It could take time for the helicopter pilot to reach the lab. Nick pressed the internal comms button and called Cooper. He yanked out the stolen in-ear from the guard, no longer needed, and tossed it away.

“Cooper, go to the chopper, grab the emergency kit, and come to the lab. Third floor.”

—Three minutes.

Cooper’s voice trembled slightly, likely because he’d started running.

“One minute.”

Nick glanced at the monitor screen again and knelt to check Owen’s pulse. It matched. The screen was indeed showing Owen’s condition. For now, as unpleasant as it was, leaving the choker on and monitoring it seemed best.

Nick’s first-aid kit remained open beside Owen. He pulled out a small metal syringe from it. There was work to do while waiting for Cooper. Nick approached Locke, who was leaning against the wall.

Locke was clutching his bullet-wounded hand to his chest, gripping it with the other. Nick raised his foot and knocked the arm away.

“Aaaagh—!!”

Grabbing the screaming Locke’s hair, Nick yanked his neck back. He swiftly jabbed the syringe into the exposed neck. He stomped on the hand that fell to the floor, feeling the bones crush satisfyingly under his boot.

Nick wasn’t aiming for a confession through torture. Unfortunately, lunatics like this didn’t break under pain. He just wanted to ensure Locke couldn’t do anything reckless while unattended. He could’ve used cable ties, but emotions had already run too high for that. Nick dragged out Locke’s other hidden hand and crushed it underfoot as well.

“Gaaahhh!!!”

The truth serum was administered, so its effects would kick in immediately.

—Boss, I’m outside the door. Open it.

Cooper had arrived at the lab. It took one minute and twenty seconds.

Nick quickly moved to the door and took the first-aid kit.

“I gave him a truth serum. Find out the type and dose of the drug administered to Owen.”

He gestured toward Locke with his chin. Cooper nodded once and headed that way.

“Team Doc, got it. Guide me through the administration.”

Nick knelt beside Owen again, opening the handed-over first-aid kit.

—It’ll be labeled as labetalol.

The first-aid kit contained various drugs.