Chapter 160: Seed of Suspicion
Xavier stood still in the line, his body tense, but his mind was racing.
’Reva and Lyra... how the hell did they get caught?
Sure, the mercs were tough. Space veterans. Murder for hire types. But Reva had vampire powers and Lyra had real-life experience. They weren’t weak either. Not in a straight fight.
So either they’d pulled something on their own—got caught on purpose...
Or the sleeping herb from earlier hadn’t fully worn off. Maybe their bodies were still slow and sluggish.’
He didn’t know. But he didn’t have time to wonder either.
"Hey! You! Take off the helmet!" one of the mercs barked.
Xavier didn’t resist.
He took it off.
And the moment they saw his face, the shouting started.
"That’s him! That’s the bastard!"
"Kill this prick!"
"You think you’re smart, huh?!"
They rushed toward him, guns ready. One of them cracked the back of his knee and dropped him to the ground. Another slammed his face into the dirt. Boots stomped around him. Some laughed. Some spat.
And from the platform, the commander just stared, lips curled.
"Take him out. Now," he ordered.
Guns cocked.
Xavier didn’t fight back. Instead, he looked up, blood on his lip, and said, "Don’t you wanna know how I infiltrated your whole camp?"
The commander snorted.
"I’ll learn everything from the girls."
"I don’t even know them," Xavier muttered. "They weren’t with me."
That made the commander laugh. "Yeah? That trick? Really? That’s the oldest damn lie in the book."
Xavier just shrugged, like he didn’t give a shit. "Believe whatever you want. Just don’t believe your team."
The laughter stopped.
Some of the soldiers looked at each other, confused.
The commander narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about?"
"I was hired," Xavier said, voice calm. "To take you out. As a merc. Someone from your team gave me everything. Coordinates. Roster. Patrol routes. Weak points. Everything."
"You’re bluffing," the commander said, voice flat.
"Am I?" Xavier asked. "Then maybe you should ask the men who brought the girls in. Where did they find them? Village, right? I passed through there. Saw your boys bringing in people."
The commander hesitated.
"It doesn’t matter," he muttered.
"Doesn’t to me either," Xavier said. "But you should know there’s more than one traitor in your crew. And I’m the only one who knows who they are."
The tension snapped back like a tight wire.
A few mercs shifted uneasily.
But the commander stayed cold. "You think you can mess with my head?"
Xavier smirked. "Piolet didn’t believe me either."
That name hit like a brick.
The commander’s expression cracked for just a second.
Piolet had been one of the top senior lieutenants. One of the oldest in the crew.
"Yeah," Xavier said, eyes locked on him. "He’s dead now."
The commander took a step back, silent.
Then he barked, "Cuff him! Take him to the ship!"
Two soldiers grabbed Xavier’s arms, snapped tight cuffs over his wrists, and yanked him to his feet.
They dragged him off, shoving him toward the same ship where Reva and Lyra had been taken.
But now, doubt was spreading. Whispers. Side-glances. Suspicions.
The ship’s interior was cold. Dark metal walls. No lights except the red glow from thin strips running along the ceiling. The kind of place where people go in and never come out.
Xavier was shoved forward through the narrow corridor. The cuffs bit into his wrists. The guards didn’t say anything—they didn’t need to. Their guns were the only language they spoke.
As they passed through the first security door, Xavier spotted them.
Reva and Lyra.
Locked behind reinforced glass, sitting inside one of the containment cells. Their hands were bound in magnetic cuffs, legs chained to the floor. Lyra sat with her back straight, eyes sharp. Reva had her head slightly lowered, hair covering half her face, but she was alert.
Xavier didn’t say a word.
Neither did they.
No flinch. No reaction. No shift in their posture.
But the commander was watching too.
He followed from behind, arms crossed, eyes narrowed like a hawk. When Xavier passed the girls’ cell, the commander slowed and studied their faces.
He waited.
Waited to see a twitch. A gasp. Even a damn blink.
But the girls didn’t even glance his way. Their eyes didn’t move.
The commander frowned.
’...Are they really not with him?’ he thought.
He turned to look at Xavier’s back as he was dragged forward. ’Or are they just playing this really well?’
Either way, the seed of doubt had been planted.
The guards threw Xavier into the cell right across from the girls’. The magnetic cuffs clicked off once he was locked inside—standard merc protocol. No need to waste power keeping prisoners cuffed inside sealed cells.
He sat down on the cold bench. Cracked his neck. Rolled his shoulders.
No one spoke.
But Lyra gave him the tiniest nod.
And Reva fingers tapped twice against the metal floor. Subtle and Quick. Like a signal.
Xavier smirked to himself.
’So they were playing something.’
The hum of the ship’s engine was low but constant. That, and the buzzing of the hallway lights, filled the silence in the cell block. No guards inside. Just the three of them, split between glass and steel.
Then the hallway door slid open with a hiss.
Two mercs walked in. Not the rookies. These were older—scarred armor, lazy postures. The kind of guys who thought they were untouchable.
They didn’t even try to lower their voices.
"Commander’s pissed," one of them said, chuckling. "Wanted to gut those bitches right there on the spot. Especially the silver-haired one."
"The Lykaios?" the other asked.
"Yeah. Says she’s rare—top dollar in the black market. Already contacted a buyer. Some noble freak who collects exotic slaves."
They both laughed.
"And the other one?"
"He said he’s gonna break her first. Said she looked like the type who screams a lot when scared. Wants to ’test her nerves’ before shipping her off."
Xavier sat still, eyes lowered, not reacting.
But inside?
He memorized their faces.
The taller one had a long scar on his cheek. Crooked nose. One eye was synthetic—blue with a red dot in the center. The other guy was bald, tattoo crawling from his neck up to his temple. His laugh was annoying. Loud and nasal.
Scarface and Tattoo.
Two dead men walking.
"I’d tap ’em both before they’re gone," Tattoo said, licking his lips. "The commander won’t care. He’s gonna break ’em anyway."
Scarface laughed. "We got time. Commander’s holding off ’til morning. Wants ’em nice and scared first."
They walked off, talking about drinks and getting stationed at the next checkpoint.
The door closed behind them.
Silence returned.
Xavier leaned back against the cold wall and exhaled.
He didn’t look at the girls.
He didn’t say a word.
But his mind was already marking the countdown.
Scarface dies first.
Tattoo second.
The commander...He’d save him for last.
But before that, he had to make sure he took care of the big guys first.
’Even in Piolet’s army, there were some elite mercs and also bots. I have to render them useless first before I do anything else.’
He glanced at the girls and thought, ’First, I have to find out what their plan is.’