William had to use considerable strength to get the woman back into the car. She resisted at first, thrashing with the stubborn pride of someone who refused to be handled like cargo. But the more William exerted his force, the more subdued she became, her struggles weakening until she sank against the seat with trembling breaths.
He bent down, picked up her silver high heels from the pavement, and slipped them into the car. The heels looked out of place against the grime of the road, the delicate shoes a sharp contrast to the dirty underbelly of Night City.
The woman's chest rose and fell in quick bursts, her lips parted as if to scream. William leaned in, his palm pressing firmly across her mouth before any sound could escape. His eyes flicked toward the headlights of a vehicle approaching in the distance.
"Next," he said quietly, his voice low and dangerous, "clean up your appearance, and pray that nothing looks suspicious—" His gaze hardened. "Because if it does, I can't guarantee your safety."
Emma's eyes shimmered with tears. She gave a tiny, obedient nod, her earlier defiance replaced with fear.
William released her, his movements precise, controlled, almost unnervingly calm. He slid into the driver's seat just as several of Hands's bodyguards approached from the far end of the lot. Slowly, he lowered the backseat window, giving Emma one final warning glance. He hoped she wouldn't do anything foolish now—both of their lives depended on her performance.
"Madam," the lead security guard greeted respectfully. His eyes darted toward Emma, who was leaning against the leather seat, her hair slightly disheveled as if from a fainting spell.
Emma's lips curved into a weak smile. "I'm feeling dizzy," she said smoothly. "I asked the driver to take me to the beach for some fresh air. Surely, you're not going to report this to Hands, are you?"
The guard's posture stiffened. He waved his hand quickly. "Of course not, Madam! I was just worried about your wellbeing."
Emma inclined her head like a queen dismissing her subject. "Drive," she murmured to William, her tone languid, elegant, and utterly convincing.
William turned the ignition, easing the car away from the guards. As the city lights blurred past, he plotted a route in his mind: from Arasaka Beach, through Heywood Springs, and finally toward the glittering Pacific Ocean View area. But Dogtown—Dogtown was where he needed to be.
"Madam," he said calmly, "please hand me the autopilot key. I'll change the destination to Dogtown."
Emma bit her lip, suspicion flickering in her eyes. "You want to mess with Hands, huh?"
William shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "No. I'm going to Dogtown—and then I'll slowly mess with Hands."
She studied him for a moment, as though searching for cracks in his calm exterior. At last, she sighed softly. "Le roi est mort, vive le roi. The king is dead, long live the king." Her voice carried a trace of admiration, mixed with unease. "Hands was right about you. You really are a lion."
William gave a soft shrug, the faintest hint of amusement on his face. "There's no king here—only Night City residents who refuse to be played with."
Emma hesitated. Her fingers tightened around the smooth autopilot key before she finally handed it over. William slipped it into the console, redirected the car's course, and then slid into the backseat beside her.
Emma's eyes widened at his closeness. "What else do you want to do?"
William sat quietly beside her, his posture relaxed but his gaze steady. His calmness unsettled her more than any threat could have. She had expected hunger, aggression, perhaps even cruelty. Instead, his eyes reflected something colder—detachment.
He reached down, picking up her silver high heels from where they rested on the mat. "In my hometown," he said softly, "there's a rule: never attack the family of your enemies. Today, I had no choice. I hope you don't take it personally, Madam."
Emma hugged herself, huddling into the corner, wary of every movement.
William's eyes flickered downward. He noticed mud clinging to her delicate feet, the faint stains of the street marring her pale skin. Before she could react, he took her foot gently, causing her to gasp in surprise. Carefully, almost reverently, he used his suit sleeve to wipe the dirt away.
Emma's breath hitched. She expected violence, yet here he was, lowering his head and cleaning her feet. The tenderness of the act disarmed her more than any blade could have.
Only when her skin was nearly clean did William carefully slide the silver heels back on.
Emma watched him silently. In Night City, families of enemies were nothing but targets—women, children, the elderly, all considered weak points to exploit. Yet this man, who had kidnapped her, now bowed his head to put shoes on her feet. Against her will, her fear eased slightly.
"Your hometown… is Asia?" she asked softly.
William gave a tired nod, unwilling to elaborate further. His eyes lingered briefly on the passing cityscape, then returned to her. "Alright, Madam. I need information. I hope you'll answer truthfully."
Emma shifted uncomfortably. "What do you want to know?"
"What exactly is the relationship between Hands and Dogtown?"
She hesitated, then spoke cautiously. "Hansen has many capable officers. Criminals, mercenaries… Dodger, for instance. And Ross Ulmer. Both dangerous men."
William's brows lifted slightly at the names.
"But they're all La Machines," Emma continued. "My husband worked differently. Hansen advanced his career in Dogtown because he relied on quieter, subtler methods. Political pressure. Backroom deals. Persuasion rather than brute force." She gave a bitter laugh. "I'm kept in a luxurious tower on Taiping Island, surrounded by Hands's men, but I know little beyond that."
William leaned back, arms crossed. Hansen was a name you couldn't avoid in Dogtown. To seize a portion of Hands's empire, you had to pass through Hansen.
"Is their relationship good?" he pressed.
Emma shook her head. "It's not public. From what I know, Hansen and Hands have financial transactions, nothing more. Hansen doesn't share power. And Hands doesn't share trust."
William nodded thoughtfully. That matched his own suspicions.
"At the Dogtown gate," he asked, "do you have authority to pass without inspection?"
Emma hesitated. "My car is usually cleared. Hands made sure of that. But I rarely go there—I hate that filthy, rotting place."
That was promising. His plan had been to force their way through the checkpoint, but her clearance would make things simpler. Still, he wouldn't put his life entirely in her hands.
"Well then," he said finally, "I'd like you to deliver a message to Hands."
Emma raised a brow. "A letter?"
"Not written," William replied. "Verbal. I want him to know I was close to his family. That should keep him cautious."
She was silent for a long moment. Then, to his surprise, she asked, "Do you have a knife?"
William frowned. Wariness stirred in his chest, but he reached into his pocket and handed her a slim blade. "Be careful. I'm—"
Before he could finish, Emma drove the knife into her own palm. Blood welled instantly, crimson against her pale skin.
William's eyes widened in shock. "What the hell—"
Emma ignored him. With her free hand, she raised the knife and sliced through one of the straps of her elegant dress. The fabric sagged slightly, but her figure held it in place. William turned his gaze away, his jaw tight.
Emma smirked faintly at his discomfort. "My body will be the letter," she said coolly. "He would never believe words alone. Hands trusts no one—not even me. But with these wounds… he'll believe."
William clenched his fists. "That's dangerous. He'll think I—"
"He already knows," she interrupted softly. "Go back, take a shower, act tired. That will only make the story more convincing."
William exhaled slowly, sweat beading on his brow. This woman was sharper than he'd thought—too sharp.
With a flick of her wrist, Emma tossed the bloody knife out the window. William tore a strip from his suit jacket and wrapped it carefully around her hand. The silence in the car thickened, charged with tension, fear, and something unspoken that neither acknowledged.
Emma broke it first. "The child Hansen and I have… is an embryo, cultivated three years ago at a medical facility. He treasures his bloodline more than anything. Consider this a warning—don't touch his daughter."
William frowned. "His daughter?"
Emma's eyes gleamed. "Mothers are sacred vessels. They create bloodlines, they establish kinship. But can genes modified in a lab truly be called family?" Her voice turned bitter. "Mothers know the truth. We feel it in our bones. No one can deceive us—not even ourselves."
William said nothing. He didn't want to comment on her strange philosophy.
The car rolled off the shabby seaside roads of Taiping Island, approaching the heavily fortified Dogtown gate. Emma straightened her clothes, fixing her hair with trembling hands.
Sirens wailed. Soldiers gathered, weapons at the ready. Emma's expression hardened—she must already be in contact with Hansen.
William's hand hovered near the car's interface, ready to unleash a malicious program and override the checkpoint if things went wrong.
The soldier approached. "Open the door. You're entering Dogtown."
But before William could react, the soldiers stepped aside. Without scanning, without hesitation, they waved the car through. Orders had clearly come from above.
Dogtown swallowed them whole.
The car glided beneath the shadow of the Lukeshuang Villa Health Spa—a relic of corporate excess. The massive structure spanned the road like a bridge, its interior rumored to have once belonged to Biotechnica. Now, it stood as another scar in Dogtown's broken skyline.
William got out, retrieving his equipment, including the malicious program he might still need. Emma remained behind the wheel, her eyes sharp.
"Next time we meet," she said coldly, "my husband and I will throw you and your companions into the abyss."
William froze. Companions? So she knew he wasn't working alone. She wasn't as naïve as she had pretended.
And yet, he found himself smiling faintly. "Good. Then I'll count on Mr. Hands to get me out of Dogtown alive."
Emma's lips curved upward in a dangerous smile. "Confident. Powerful. You really are a lion." For the first time, she looked every inch the corporate woman she was reputed to be. "Goodbye, William. I'll deliver your message to Hands."
Their eyes locked for one final, silent exchange.
Then William turned his back on her and walked deeper into Dogtown.
---
[Dodger] – A criminal formerly known as Carl Robinson. He escaped three life sentences from the NCPD and angered the Tiger Claws' second-in-command, forcing him to hide in Dogtown. He became Hansen's trusted right-hand man.
[Ross Ulmer] – A veteran soldier of the Netherhounds, equipped with an external skeleton. Infamous for smuggling military gear and embezzling corporate funds. A formidable boss figure in Dogtown's underworld.
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