Chapter 109: Very Much Like a Fan Meeting
Seeing Amelia had Alvin pinned, Asher and Dorian rushed over.
But neither of them made for Alvin. Both went straight to Zander.
Asher's tension was palpable. He grabbed Zander's arm, scanning him from head to toe, firing questions without pause. "You're not hurt, are you? No cuts? No bleeding anywhere?"
The sight made Amelia frown. His anxiety seemed far beyond what the situation called for. A scratch wouldn't warrant this kind of panic.
Zander's expression stayed cold, his reply clipped. "I'm fine." He moved past them and began tying Alvin up.
The Deep was crowded and unpredictable. They all piled into Alvin's car instead.
Alvin and his driver were shoved into the back, wrists bound tight behind them with rope, duct tape sealing their mouths. Both sat hunched, shivering, eyes wide with fear.
He had no idea who these people were. They weren't police—too young, too sharp. But they had guns, and every move was clean, practiced, lethal. Some kind of organization? He couldn't guess.
Zander took the wheel.
In the back, Amelia sat with Asher and Dorian. Alvin and his driver were wedged between them, silent except for muffled breathing.
Asher kept sneaking glances at Amelia, clearly wanting to speak but too shy to start.
Dorian lost patience. She smacked him across the shoulder, her tone sharp. "Are you a man or not? Just ask her already."
Amelia lifted her gaze to him.
Both wore masks. Asher was tall, with clear eyes. Dorian's large eyes and easy confidence marked her as someone straightforward, unafraid to speak her mind.
Spurred by Dorian's jab, Asher finally blurted the question he'd been holding in for miles. "Are you… the Bald Eagle from Abyss Fights two years ago?"
"The one who won seven nights straight by KO, took home that rare bronze artifact, and then donated it to Emory's grandson?"
Amelia hadn't expected anyone to recognize her.
When she'd chosen a human body to return in, it had to match her soul's resonance. Twice she'd searched long for the right fit. That meant her physical traits—height, build, features—were similar each time.
During Abyss Fights, she'd worn a mask. It wasn't surprising he'd matched her stature and fighting style to the Bald Eagle.
She nodded. "Yes."
No reason to hide it.
Asher sucked in a sharp breath. "Fuck! I can't believe I'm sitting in the same car as my idol! I could pass out right now!"
Dorian rolled her eyes. "Pathetic."
But then, without missing a beat, she dug into her pocket, pulled out a notebook, and offered it with both hands. "Please… sign this for me."
"I'm a fan too. I promise I'll keep it safe."
"You're exaggerating," Amelia said, though her tone warmed. "I'm just a regular person. But if you want a name, I can write one."
She scrawled Bald Eagle across the page in her bold, unmistakable hand.
Dorian tucked the notebook away like a treasure. High skill, high humility—rare combination. Someone who could kick a man across a lot and stop a speeding car with one hand, yet still call herself ordinary. Compared to her, she and Asher felt like amateurs.
Alvin watched them chatting as if nothing had happened, panic rising in his chest. What the hell was this? Who were these people? And why did catching him feel like a fan meet-and-greet?
The answer came soon enough.
Not far from The Deep, Zander pulled onto a deserted road and killed the engine. Asher yanked Alvin out first.
Alvin blinked at the empty stretch of land. Remote. Isolated. The kind of place where a body could disappear for years.
Were they going to kill him here?
His knees weakened. He thrashed against the ropes, mumbling through the tape.
Facing Alvin now, Asher was nothing like the shy man from moments ago. His voice was cold, stripped of any warmth.
He kicked Alvin hard, dropping him to his knees, then tore the tape from his mouth.
"…Don't kill me! Please, don't kill me!"
The words spilled out fast.
"I don't know who you are, but whatever you want—name it! I'll give it to you! Just let me go…"
"Let you go?!" Asher's boot slammed into his side, sending him rolling across the dirt. "After all the shit you've done? You should be carved into pieces!"
Bound tight, Alvin couldn't stop himself from tumbling.
Zander stepped forward, hauling him upright.
He crouched in front of Alvin, his voice steady. "Listen. You're going to do two things for me."
The tone was calm, but his eyes were something else—flat, cold, merciless. Alvin shivered. The red-haired one had been brutal, but this boy was worse. He didn't need to raise a hand to make Alvin feel like prey.
"Two things?" Alvin stammered.
"First. You're going to take us to where you keep the girls you've kidnapped or tricked."
"Second. You're going to write down every contact and piece of information about your crew."
Zander's gaze didn't waver. "If you don't cooperate… I'll kill you right here."