1 Prologue

Thwack.

"Nngh! Guh, ahh..."

Bang.

A wretched sob broke through the silence. "S-stop..."

Thud.

Blood spattered onto the dimly lit floor of the shipping container. There was a lone bulb hung from above, its light so dim that you could only barely make out the features of the men standing below it.

The younger of the two spoke.

"Was it worth it?"

The young man who spoke, with coiffed hair and tiger-like eyes, tapped the pipe in his hand on the container floor to play out a relaxed rhythm. It was a stark contrast from the panicked wheezing of the man tied down to a chair in front of him, the same man he'd just slammed over and over with the bloody pipe he had in hand.

Brown eyes flashed golden under low lighting.

"You could've settled for embezzlement, but the children? You bastard."

He raised the pipe, watched the sniveling of the man before him, then smacked the pipe into his own open palm.

He laughed lowly when he saw the man burst into hysterical tears, the pool of liquid red under his chair slowly growing with the piss that dripped from where he sat. It didn't help any that the scent of distressed beta kept wafting from him, as if he were ever worthy of any consideration. "Disgusting."

Tock tock.

The young man turned his head to the container door when he heard the gentle knocking. His eyes, once sharp, immediately softened as if pleased at the disturbance. Even his scent—which had been so bitter just seconds before—released a fragrance so soothing that it had the other man shaking in his seat from sheer confusion.

"Master?"

The door creaked open, revealing a woman clad in a dark red suit, with short, dark brown hair and rogue red lips. Her eyes, sharp and narrow, landed on the whimpering man to the center of the shipping container with a cold gaze.

This young man's so-called master...

Marcella Brant.

The name I'd been given upon adoption, and the name I would continue to wear until death.

I stepped into the container, sharp heels clicking on wet metal, and came to a stop once I was in front of the bloodied man sitting on the lone chair in the room.

He looked up at me. This ugly thing that was more bruise than flesh, blood pouring from his nostrils, his mouth, his head—this pathetic man who dared to touch the children I took in, all to satisfy his own greed.

He was looking at me hopefully.

This bastard even dared to open his mouth, with teary eyes, split lip and all, just to plead,

"S-save me..."

I stared down at him.

No words left my mouth, even as he begged. I provided no consolation, for there was none, nor did I offer salvation. I didn't give even a whiff of my Alpha scent to soothe him, to ease his aches, because he didn't deserve it. All I did was watch as that hopeful expression on his grotesque face grew to waver ever so slowly.

A minute passed. Then two. He started shaking again, tears rolling down his bruised cheeks as he opened and closed his mouth as though trying to search for words, only to come up short.

Once the pathetic worm lowered his gaze, I glanced over at the young man I called one of my own, with his fair skin, ash blond hair, and lithe build. That beta child who wielded a pipe as if it were a proper weapon, who smiled at me like a dog eager for orders. As if his grin didn't already give it away, his pheromones made a proper effort to ensure that I knew how pleased he was to see me.

"Sasha," I said.

Sasha looked at me expectantly.

I pulled out the black gloves I kept in my pocket to put them on both my hands. It wouldn't do to get my hands dirty. "The pliers?"

Sasha checked his utility belt, and immediately supplied me with the pliers I'd asked for.

Had we been alone, maybe I would have pinched his cheek. This cute thing, why was he looking at me with such precious eyes in such an inappropriate situation? The nerve.

The man in the chair started stammering. "Wh-what—"

I went around the chair until I was at his back. I considered his bound hands, considered the thickness of his fingers, and said, "How many children were there?"

"Uh?"

"The children you tried to sell off."

I watched his shaking back.

"How many?" I asked again. Tonelessly, softly. This wasn't the first time I'd encountered trash parading as a human, and I was sure it wouldn't be the last. "Answer now, and I might consider sparing you."

He bowed his head, fingers curling into fists.

"Would you rather live, or die?" I tapped the pliers against my hand. It was needlessly entertaining, the way he flinched with each audible smack. "Choose wisely."

There was silence.

And then,

"...t-ten."

"Ten," I parrot, before looking to Sasha for confirmation.

He nodded.

Ten it was.

There were no warnings as I clipped off his thumb from his hand, slowly and painfully, using the pliers Sasha had provided me.

A bloody cry broke through the silence, echoing through the container until it made my ears ring.

Small price to pay, really.

"Augh! Wh-why, why..!"

"You said there were ten." I snipped off another finger, his index finger this time, forcing my way through despite how hard he was clenching his fists. "So you will pay with ten fingers. That much should be enough."

He sobbed louder.

"K-kill me," he said, voice a choked up thing as he struggled with futile effort through the rope tying him down. His scent, already strongly distressed from before, became so pungent that it made me frown. Sasha was lucky as he was to be a beta so he didn't have to smell these pheromones as clearly as I did. "Just kill me!"

I cocked a brow in bemusement at the sudden death wish. Just earlier, he wanted to live, and now, he wanted to die? All this just from losing two fingers? How fickle.

"I'll consider it if you beg well," I lied, before cutting off his middle finger.

His voice broke with his scream.

"That wasn't begging," I scolded lightly. I teased the pliers around his ring finger, waiting for a response.

No response came, making me click my tongue. And so, I snipped off another finger.

His wild screaming was akin to a pig being prepared for slaughter, though a pig was infinitely more respectable than his sorry existence. It almost made me want to stop, if only because his voice was already grating at my ears, as was his scent on my tongue.

I finished cutting off all ten fingers in under three minutes, regardless of those thoughts.

"He's passed out," Sasha told me helpfully, an eager gleam to his young eyes when he looked at me. He held his pipe in both hands as though ready to follow after my violent example. "Should I wake him up?"

"No need."

I rubbed at my gloved hands, walked around the chair until I was in front of the bound man, before hitting him across the face with enough force that the chair almost fell to the floor along with his shaking body.

The man coughed, wheezing and hacking out with every bloody breath. The nauseating scent in his pheromones, combined with the blood and piss, made the air feel disgusting enough that a more sensitive Alpha or beta might've felt ill.

I was used to such things, however.

"Sasha," I said. I clapped lightly as if to rid myself of the blood on my hands, even if I knew that it wouldn't do anything. It was more a perfunctory move than anything else, anyway. "He's all yours. I'll be going after the kids."

He gave me a salute, this cute kid. "Got it, master!"

"Enough with the master."

"But that's what you are!"

I shook my head. "Stubborn child. Make sure to clean up well before heading back. The others will cry if you come home smelling like trash."

"Of course, I'll do as you say!"

With a wave of my hand, I left him to it. He'd be fine even without my supervision; after all, this was a kid I'd practically raised myself, having picked him up off the streets.

"You took a while."

A soft voice as smooth as honey entered my ears the moment I set foot outside the shipping container.

Long, platinum hair, fair skin, and crystal clear blue eyes. Such was the appearance of the person waiting for me by my car, with a name so apt for her looks that one would wonder just how her parents predicted that their child would turn out this way.

"Angel," I said.

She promptly opened the door for me without my asking, waiting for me to step in before she moved to take up the driver's seat. Cool and calm as always, my omega assistant didn't say anything else as she drove out of the port to head back home.

Still, I couldn't help from eyeing her through the rearview mirror. "It took me less than ten minutes to finish my business here. I checked before I left."

She didn't bother to look back at me, what with her eyes being focused on the road. "You could've checked on the children first," she replied.

Check on the children first? It was a nice thought coming from a kinder, more average person. Unfortunately, it was a wasted sentiment on someone like me. "And scare them as a result? I'd rather that they don't see me being mad for their sake."

Angel huffed out a breath. "The kids aren't that different from you, Marcella. They wouldn't have minded even if you killed someone in front of them. Or did you forget just how you first found them?"

How could I forget? The kids I took in, diverse as they were in age and gender, came from different places—none of them safe, or healthy for a growing child. That wasn't to say that my home was any safer, what with the Underworld being what it is…but I could offer better than the bare minimum, at least.

"Are you saying I'm a bad influence?" I asked.

A blunt answer was given in return. "You've always been a bad influence."

It really was a wonder that I could have such a rude personal assistant. One would think that I didn't pay her enough, the way she talked back to me.

But then, this person was also a childhood friend.

"Never mind that. There's something more important that I want you to think about with me."

Angel sighed. "What now?"

"I want a child." I paused. "I want to conceive, if that wasn't clear. I'll be—"

The car came to a smooth halt at the side of the road even with the sheer surprise written all over Angel's face. I ended up applauding her for it—it wasn't often that someone could take shocking news while driving a car without getting into an accident. And to stop so smoothly, at that?

"Don't clap at me!" Angel spat out. I stopped with a wide smile. "What do you mean, you want to conceive? Do you even have a partner? Have you been hiding someone?"

"Do I look like I could hide anything from you?"

"..."

"Don't answer that." I let out a slow exhale between closed teeth as I looked out the window. "I need your help to look for a partner. That's why I brought it up."

"...you're serious."

"As a heart attack."

"Why…why now? You just came from," she gestured with one hand to the distant shipping containers where Sasha was busy brutalizing a rat, "that, and now you're talking about conceiving? What the hell, Marcella?"

"Sasha reminded me of how cute children were. Plus, I'm getting on in age—"

"Sasha is literally in his twenties."

"He's a kid in my eyes."

Angel covered her face with both her hands, and sighed. Deeply.

Well. This was clearly a stressful situation for her. I supposed it was understandable, if she never felt any hints of me wanting a child. Probably figured I had my hands full with the children I took in already, which wouldn't exactly be wrong, but…

I still wanted another child. A baby, to be exact, that I could bring into the world and protect with my growing family.

Maybe it was the Alpha in me screaming for her own child.

Or maybe it was just baby fever.

Regardless, I wanted it. Badly. It didn't matter that I didn't have a partner yet, or that I was the sole heir of the Underworld. I wanted a baby, so I'd have one.

I'd find a way like I always did.

"...you're insane," Angel said eventually. Her pretty face looked like it aged a few years, all because I'd dropped such a revelation on her without warning. "Do your parents know?"

"Not yet. I wanted you to hear first, seeing as you'd know me best and you'd stop me if it really is a terrible idea."

She grew quiet at those words. Seeing that pensive look on her face—the one that told me she was already planning out how to help me inside her head—made me smile. Angel could be rude to me at best, full-on murderous at worst, but she definitely had her soft sides whenever I came to her with unbridled honesty.

She could try to deny it, but I knew she had a soft spot for me.

Evidenced by:

"...okay."

I stifled a smile at the grudging tone to her voice. "Okay? You'll help me?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose as she heaved out a sigh.

"What other choice do I have, you fool?"

I ended up laughing. How could I not, when she was being so blatant with her soft spot for me?

"This is why you're the best, Angel."

"Ugh, shut up."