Chapter 177
Lynette's POV
The man in the white suit stood center stage. The spotlight made his slicked-back hair gleam like polished metal.
"Good evening, everyone." His voice carried easily through the speakers. Smooth. Practiced. "I am Belser, the general manager of this evening's event."
I watched him closely. My Alpha instincts were screaming. This man was dangerous. Not in the obvious way—not like a fighter or a soldier. Something else. Something calculating.
"Mr. Aris clearly needs medical assistance." Belser gestured toward the body. Two black-suited guards moved forward immediately.
They grabbed Aris by the arms. Dragged him toward the side exit. His head lolled. Blood left a trail across the polished floor.
I'd seen enough bodies moved to know the difference between carrying someone and disposing of them. This was disposal.
"My apologies for this unfortunate interruption." Belser bowed slightly to the audience. "Shall we continue with the main presentation?"
My fingers tightened on the armrest. Kael's hand suddenly closed around my wrist. Firm. Warning.
"Don't stare at him," he said quietly. "Belser's sensory abilities are extremely strong."
I forced myself to look away. Shifted my gaze to the crowd below instead. But I could still feel it—that crawling sensation of being watched. Analyzed.
Had he noticed me looking?
My Alpha senses were sharper now that I was back in my own body. I could pick up things I'd missed before. The slight tension in Belser's shoulders. The way his eyes had swept across the second-floor boxes.
Had they paused on ours? Just for a fraction of a second?
I couldn't be sure.
Belser snapped his fingers. The sound cracked through the hall like a whip.
A door opened at the side of the stage.
What walked out made my breath catch.
The thing—I couldn't call it a person anymore—had to be over seven feet tall. Massive. Its shoulders were so broad they barely fit through the doorway. Muscles bulged grotesquely under skin that looked stretched too tight, mottled with purple and red like bruised meat.
"Subject One," Belser announced. "Three years ago, he was an Omega. Five foot six. One hundred ten pounds."
The screen behind him lit up. A photo appeared—a small, thin man with nervous eyes.
"After taking the strength-enhancement drug, he is now seven feet tall and weighs two hundred ninety pounds."
The crowd went silent. I heard someone's sharp intake of breath.
Workers wheeled out a metal cage. Inside was a massive iron ingot. The placard on the side read: 300 kg.
Subject One walked over. Reached in with one hand.
He lifted it.
Just. Lifted it.
Like it was a toy.
Then he threw it down. The impact shook the entire hall. I felt the vibration through my feet.
"Jesus," Kael muttered beside me.
Subject One wasn't done. A worker brought out a steel reinforcement bar—the kind used in construction. Thick as my wrist.
The creature grabbed both ends. His muscles swelled. Veins bulged across his arms like cables about to snap.
The steel bent. Twisted. In seconds, it looked like a pretzel.
My stomach turned. As an Alpha, I understood strength. I'd fought other Alphas. Killed them. But this...
This wasn't natural strength. This was something else entirely.
"If Wild Hunt gets access to this," I said quietly, "if Rezar can mass-produce these things..."
"We won't stand a chance," Kael finished. His jaw was tight. "None of us will."
I scanned the crowd below. The reactions were changing. The fear was still there. But now I saw something else in their eyes.
Greed.
Want.
Even the ones who'd been screaming to get off the ship earlier. Now they were leaning forward. Staring. Calculating.
"Look at them," I said. "They're already forgetting the side effects."
"The skin discoloration," Kael agreed. "The obvious physical deformities. None of that matters if you're strong enough to crush your enemies with your bare hands."
Subject One stood motionless on stage now. Waiting. His face was blank. Empty.
Like there was nothing left inside.
"The cost isn't just physical," I said. My voice came out hoarse. "Look at his eyes. There's nothing there. No personality. No will."
Kael nodded slowly. "They're not people anymore. They're weapons."
Belser was still talking. "In addition to the strength enhancement, we also offer—"
The screen changed. Now it showed an old man lying in a hospital bed. Sallow skin. Sunken cheeks. He looked half-dead.
The image shifted. Same man. Three months later. Standing upright. Color in his face. Smiling.
"Our life-extension formula," Belser continued smoothly. "Extensively tested. Proven results."
An elderly man shuffled onto the stage. White coat. Thick glasses. He looked like someone's grandfather.
"This is Dr. Howard," Belser said. "A highly respected physician. He has personally overseen our three-year clinical trials. Dr. Howard?"
The old man's hands shook as he gripped the microphone. "I... I have personally followed the test subjects for three years. The results are... they are real."
His voice trembled. Was that from age? Or fear?
I couldn't tell.
"This is too perfect," I said to Kael. "Too polished. Something's wrong."
"I know." He was watching the crowd. "But look. They're buying it."
He was right. At least a third of the audience was leaning forward now. Interested. The skepticism was fading. Being replaced by possibility.
By hope.
Or maybe just by desperation.
"If Rezar controls this technology," I said slowly, working through the implications, "he doesn't just have an army of enhanced soldiers. He has leverage over everyone. Anyone who wants the drug has to go through him."
"And anyone who refuses," Kael added, "becomes a target. Because they're not enhanced. They're weak by comparison."
My mind raced. Wild Hunt was already dangerous. Professional. Organized. But if Rezar could create an army of these... things? Subject Ones who felt no pain, showed no mercy, followed orders without question?