Chapter 62: Face-to-Face with the Golden Dragon
The suffocating scent of the chemical used to sedate April slowly began to recede and was replaced by the damp, metallic sting of rust, stagnant water, and cold concrete.
April dragged a deep breath into her lungs with a sharp inhale, her head throbbing with a residual ache from the chloroform.
She tried to move her hands, but there were thick industrial zip-ties binding her wrists tightly behind her back, keeping her trapped to a heavy, solid iron chair.
The sensation of the zip tie brought back a sickening memory that she didn’t want to even think about.
Her vision was entirely pitch black. The thick, coarse sackcloth was still draped over her head, restricting her breathing and blocking out every single ray of light.
Yet, despite the terrifying reality of the situation, April’s heart rate remained remarkably steady.
There was no panic. No screaming. No desperate thrashing. Her core temperature was perfectly regulated by the lingering effects of the revitalization spring she had soaked in all night, and her mind remained as sharp and cold as a diamond.
Let’s think, she analyzed internally, her eyes narrowed beneath the darkness of the sack. Who did this? Alexander wouldn’t talk out of turn—he knows my value, and he’s too terrified of losing his grandfather to betray me. And Xavier is definitely out of the question. He and Alexander are both at 80 percent trust value. Then... That leaves a person who could potentially see me as a threat is behind this.
She thought about it and only one person came to mind. Alexander’s Uncle.
Harvey Greels’s deep-cover spy must’ve truly been among Alexander’s security guards, and they must have leaked my existence and what I can do to him.
April knew at some point, her powers would attract rivals and enemies, but she never exactly thought it would happen so soon.
Her plan was to get most of her hoarding sorted out and then get her robot guards as soon as she has over a billion in her account, since she can’t read her own future. She can’t know her own fate.
But she believed the system did not restrict her own fortune reading just to put her in danger over and over again.
So, with every high stake came a high stake reward.
If she told herself that, she would be able to at least keep a clear head to navigate this situation, no matter how life-threatening it was.
If Harvey Greels hired outside muscle to snatch me before he lost everything, then I assume they will try to convince me to join his side to help him reclaim the empire.
But then that would be another problem because she did not have any plans on going against her professional ethic. So, that meant she was in even bigger trouble.
Think, April. It’s either I get through to the kidnappers now or I get into serious trouble where my life is at stake.
She had a knife in her storage space but she wasn’t sure if she would be able to walk out that door once she had freed herself. Not knowing where she was puts her at an even greater disadvantage.
Who knows, she may already be in Harvey’s warehouse?
The sound of heavy, echoing footsteps broke through the silence of the space. The boots crunched against loose gravel and puddles of water, moving slowly, deliberately, until they came to a halt right in front of her.
A deep, remarkably snarky, and almost disturbingly attractive voice echoed through the damp, open-space warehouse.
"So..." the voice mused, dripping with a smooth, dangerous amusement that could make anyone’s skin crawl. "I got word that there’s a mysterious little seer running around the elite circles. A girl who can see the future with a single glance."
April sat perfectly still in the chair. Underneath the heavy sackcloth, her lips slowly peeled back into a calm, slightly unfazed smirk.
"I guess word does travel fast," April responded smoothly, her voice echoing clearly through the damp space without a single tremor of fear. "What about it? Wanna have your fortune read? I’m currently running a premium promotional rate, but since you went through all the trouble of organizing a free transport for me, I’ll charge you a fair price."
Her goal was to find a way out of here, and what better way to do it than with the skills she’s being kidnapped for?
The silence that followed her statement was absolute.
The man paused completely, utterly stunned by her absolute lack of terror. For a few seconds, the only sound in the grimy warehouse was the steady, rhythmic dripping of water from a distant rusted pipe.
Then, the man burst into a loud, incredibly genuine laugh. It was a rich, boisterous sound that echoed off the high steel walls.
"Oh my god..." the man chuckled, his voice full of sheer disbelief. "Even in a situation like this, you’re still trying to haggle prices? You really are a piece of work, aren’t you?"
With a sudden, violent motion, his hand ripped the heavy sackcloth off her head.
The sudden rush of light was harsh and blinding, making April squint instantly, her eyelids fluttering as her pupils quickly adjusted to the glare of a single, unshaded high-wattage overhead bulb dangling from a rusted wire.
As her vision cleared, she found herself looking up at a striking, exceptionally dangerous man leaning slightly over her.
He was remarkably handsome, but it was a lethal, predatory kind of beauty. He had vibrant, crimson-red hair that fell loosely around his sharp, chiseled jawline.
He wore an expensive, unbuttoned silk shirt that revealed a terrifyingly intricate, fierce Chinese dragon tattoo winding its way up the side of his neck, its golden-inked claws gripping tightly against his collarbone.
His eyes were sharp, dark, and full of a chaotic, unpredictable fire.
Before April could even utter a word to her captor, a familiar, crisp chime echoed directly in her mind, and the blue neon screen of her system interface materialized directly over the man’s face.
[System Notice: High-Value Target Detected.]
[Would you like to read the fortune of Nat Collins?]
[Number of insights left today: 3/5]
A sudden, icy shiver rushed down April’s spine as she saw that name, leaving a wave of paralyzed, instinctive fear in its wake.
Nat Collins.
Her jaw subtly tightened as the name echoed through the memories of her past life.
She had never once met this man face-to-face in the previous timeline, but the terrifying, blood-soaked legends that roamed the apocalyptic wastes about him were enough to make the most hardened warlords shiver in their boots.
He was a ghost story told to survivors in the dark. A ruthless, uncompromising killer who slaughtered anyone he didn’t like—whether they were zombies, mutated beasts, or human beings.
He operated on a code of absolute, terrifying extremes. If you were firmly on his side and proved your loyalty, you were fiercely protected, living in absolute safety under his banner. But if you crossed him, lied to him, or attempted to betray his trust, you were instantly marked as an enemy.
And in Nat Collins’ world, an enemy didn’t just die—they were erased from existence.
The tales that went about him weren’t just of his doings in the apocalypse, but even before the world fell apart. They said he had been a multi-billionaire underground mafia leader.
He owned massive illegal syndicates, international black-market routes, hidden real estate, and endless shadow corporations.
He had a pathological, almost possessed obsession with making money and hoarding wealth.
In her past life, people realized that his obsessive greed was the only reason his faction survived so flawlessly.
Nat hadn’t prepared for the end of the world—he had just been hoarding resources, weapons, fortified bunkers, and supplies because he loved the feeling of absolute ownership.
When the apocalypse hit, his sheer, monstrous arsenal of wealth accidentally turned his syndicate into one of the most terrifyingly self-sustaining and dominant domains in the wasteland. And he had no problem erasing traitors because then there were less mouths to feed.
And now, April was tied to a chair right in front of this dangerous man.
