Rain lashed the alley behind the Phantom Club like a mad thing, churning the neon-reflected puddles into a chaotic kaleidoscope of shattered gold. Lu Chenzhou shook out the steel pipe in his hand, his knuckles white from the grip, the impact still vibrating numbingly through his palm.
Three men groaned on the ground near the alley entrance—small-time thugs from the next block over, here to muscle in on territory. He'd just finished his night patrol shift and hadn't even changed out of the tight black security uniform before they'd cornered him.
"Get lost." His voice was cold and hard, cutting through the rain. A cut on his temple bled, the blood mixing with rainwater, tracing a path down the bridge of his straight nose before dripping onto his thin, tightly-pressed lips, adding a touch of ferocity.
The drenched uniform clung to him, outlining broad shoulders and a narrow waist, every muscle coiled like a predator ready to strike, humming with raw, explosive power. Yet his face was strikingly, almost aggressively handsome—sharp brow bone, deep-set eyes, thick lashes now wet and spiky, casting a contradictory shadow of vulnerability.
The thugs scrambled away. Lu Chenzhou tossed the pipe aside and leaned against the grimy brick wall, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling in sharp bursts. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out. The words "Loan Shark" glared painfully from the screen.
"Lu Chenzhou. If that money isn't in our account by noon tomorrow, your sister's private room at the hospital? Gone." The voice on the other end was slick and vicious. "Heard the little girl just finished her chemo. She must be so weak…"
"Motherfucker!" Lu Chenzhou snarled, driving his fist into the wall. Chips of brick and mortar dust pattered down.
He ended the call, pressing his forehead against the cold, wet wall. Rain dripped from his hair into his collar, sending a shiver through him. His sister's leukemia was a bottomless black hole, swallowing all his savings and burying him under a mountain of debt. His salary as security at the Phantom wasn't low, but against the astronomical medical bills, it was nothing.
*Thud—*
A sound cut through the rain from the mouth of the alley—the distinctive thump of a car engine dying abruptly. Lu Chenzhou's head snapped up, his gaze sharp and wary.
A black Bentley sat silently in the curtain of rain, lights off, like a beast lying in wait. The rear window slid down soundlessly, revealing a face half-obscured in shadow.
A man held a cigarette between his fingers, the ember glowing and fading in the dark. He wore an impeccably tailored grey suit, sleeves rolled up to reveal a priceless Patek Philippe on his wrist. His gaze, fixed on Lu Chenzhou through the downpour, felt like that of a collector assessing a meticulously displayed piece—calculating, with an undercurrent of something else that made skin prickle.
Lu Chenzhou knew him. Fu Jingshen. The elusive owner of the Phantom Club, the unofficial 'king' of their entire district. Rumors painted him as ruthless, connected, a man whose anger was never seen but whose enemies vanished without a trace.
What was he doing here?
Lu Chenzhou straightened up instinctively, wanting to wipe the blood from his face, but pinned in place by that heavy gaze. It felt weighted, hook-like, dragging over the cut on his temple, the tense line of his jaw, down the length of his body outlined by the soaked uniform, leaving no inch unexamined.
The Bentley's door opened. Fu Jingshen stepped out, a long-handled black umbrella shielding him. His leather shoes met the water without a splash. He stopped before Lu Chenzhou, tilting the umbrella slightly to cover them both.
"Boss Fu." Lu Chenzhou bit down on his agitation, dipping his head in acknowledgment. He was Fu Jingshen's employee; protocol demanded it. But the man's stare made his skin crawl, like being watched by a venomous snake.
Fu Jingshen didn't speak. Instead, he raised a hand, his cool fingertips brushing lightly against the wound on Lu Chenzhou's temple. Lu Chenzhou jolted, recoiling as if burned, but the umbrella handle pressed lightly into the small of his back, a touch not forceful but impossibly firm.
"Does it hurt?" Fu Jingshen's voice was low, a smoky rasp that held a strange, almost gentle quality against the drumming rain.
Lu Chenzhou's temper flared. He knocked Fu Jingshen's hand away, his tone abrasive. "You need something, Boss Fu? If not, I'm leaving."
He turned to go, but a hand closed around his wrist. Fu Jingshen's fingers were long, his grip shockingly strong, like a steel vise grinding bone.
"Lu Chenzhou," Fu Jingshen's voice came from behind him, laced with amusement that sent a chill down Lu Chenzhou's spine. "Your sister is at City General Hospital. Hematology. Room 304. She had a blood transfusion yesterday. Reaction wasn't good, was it?"
Lu Chenzhou whipped his head around, eyes blazing. "You investigated me?"
Fu Jingshen leisurely withdrew his hand, brushing off non-existent dust. "I like to know my employees." He paused, his eyes lingering on Lu Chenzhou's tense profile. "I hear the debt is five million?"
Lu Chenzhou's fists clenched, nails digging into his palms. He knew men like Fu Jingshen didn't bring things up without a reason.
"What do you want?" he asked through gritted teeth, bracing for humiliation.
Fu Jingshen smiled, the lines around his eyes crinkling with calculation. "Come with me."
"What?"
"Be mine." Fu Jingshen's gaze was blunt, stripping him bare, moving over his face, his body. "One year. I'll clear your debt. Your sister's treatment—I'll cover it. Best doctors. Best drugs."
Lu Chenzhou stood frozen, as if struck by lightning. Rain dripped from his lashes, blurring his vision. He stared at Fu Jingshen's handsome, cruel face, and suddenly understood—this wasn't an offer. It was a threat. The other man held his weakness, knew he had no choice.
"I work a job. I don't sell myself!" Rage erupted from Lu Chenzhou. He pointed towards the alley exit. "Show some respect!"
The smile vanished from Fu Jingshen's face, his eyes turning cold. "Respect?" He took a step closer. The space under the umbrella shrank, filled with the scent of clean cedar and tobacco, overwhelming the smell of wet concrete. "Lu Chenzhou, in your current position, are you in any place to demand respect?"
He took out his phone, pulling up a photo. It showed Lu Chenzhou's sister lying in a hospital bed, pale, an oxygen tube under her nose.
"If you refuse," Fu Jingshen held the phone before Lu Chenzhou's eyes, his voice a near whisper, "tomorrow, your sister might find herself without a room. And I certainly won't stop the debt collectors."
Looking at his sister's frail image, Lu Chenzhou's defiance and anger deflated like a punctured balloon. All the fight drained out of him. He could only stare at Fu Jingshen, the hatred in his eyes almost palpable.
Fu Jingshen put his phone away, like a man admiring a hard-won prize. "Made your decision?"
The rain continued its relentless assault on the umbrella. Lu Chenzhou closed his eyes. When he opened them again, only numbness and shame remained.
"…I agree."
The three words felt like poisoned needles, lodging in his throat, bitter and metallic.
A satisfied smile touched Fu Jingshen's lips. He raised his hand again, gently stroking Lu Chenzhou's rain-soaked hair, the gesture dripping with possessive intent. "Good boy."
Lu Chenzhou jerked his head away but said nothing more. He knew, from this moment on, he was no longer Lu Chenzhou, security guard of the Phantom. He was Fu Jingshen's property, bought and paid for.
The Bentley's door swung open again. Fu Jingshen gestured with a "please," the triumph in his eyes unmistakable.
Lu Chenzhou drew a sharp breath and stepped inside. The door closed behind him, shutting out the storm, sealing away his last shred of freedom.
The car was warm, the heater blowing hot air against his skin, doing nothing to thaw the ice settling in his heart. He leaned against the window, watching the neon lights streak past like a runaway dream.
He didn't know what awaited him. But he knew men like Fu Jingshen didn't let go once they had their claws in. And he, a wolf backed into a corner by debt, had finally been caged by the hunter.