Chapter 1

It was 10:00 pm, and the number of pedestrians on the streets was reducing. Still, the neon lights flashed, making the city seem particularly busy.

Brooklyn York held two sets of takeout as he checked his phone. This was the best delivery order he'd received that night, but it was getting late. He had to hurry up.

"Forget it. I'll just take a shortcut." He turned his electric scooter down a side alley which was part of downtown.

The street lamps were busted, and few people stayed there now. Not too long ago, there'd even been a murder nearby.

That was why Brooklyn always felt on edge when taking this road—he was afraid of running into criminals or hooligans. But if he was in a rush, taking this path could save him close to 20 minutes.

He told himself not to overthink it; he just had to be a little faster.

"Don't let him get away!"

Footsteps suddenly rang out in the dark alley. Brooklyn saw someone running toward him and instinctively wanted to give way. He didn't manage to do it, though, and the person rammed right into him. He and his scooter both fell over.

Brooklyn was about to say something when the guy got up and ran off. He didn't even have the chance to see what the guy looked like, let alone ask for compensation.

He slowly got to his feet, his heart aching when he saw the spilled takeout on the ground. It looked like he was going to have to compensate for this order.

Brooklyn was lamenting his fate when the footsteps came closer to him. He saw a group of people running toward him and wanted to avoid them.

However, the people stopped as they passed him. He stared dazedly at the men in black outfits and sunglasses, then stammered, "H-He went that way."

"Did you think you could fool us, Mr. Hart?" The man in the lead snickered. "Take him back!"

"Huh?" Brooklyn was confused. Before he could wrap his mind around what was happening, a few of the men grabbed him and dragged him out of the alley.

"Wait, you guys must have the wrong guy!" Brooklyn cried. Had he run into human traffickers?

Perhaps the leader of the men was annoyed by Brooklyn's cries—he clamped a towel over the latter's mouth and nose, making an indescribable smell waft into Brooklyn's nostrils. Almost immediately, his vision started blurring, and he started fading out of consciousness.

Brooklyn couldn't believe how unlucky he was. When he regained consciousness, he found himself in a dark room. He reached out for the things around him but couldn't seem to find the edge of the bed. He couldn't help wondering how big the bed actually was.

As he struggled to sit up, he found himself still a little dizzy—it was probably the aftereffects of whatever had been on that towel. He still felt out of it.

He staggered off the bed in the darkness, finally finding a light switch. Before he could turn it on, the room door swung open.

Brooklyn looked in its direction, where light poured in from outside. He saw a man seated at the door and flipped the lights on.

The brightness made him instinctively shut his eyes for a while. Once he was used to it, he opened his eyes to look at the man.

The man had flawless skin, deep-set eyes, and a tall nose. His features were chiseled, and he looked like a proper gentleman.

But when Brooklyn's gaze landed on the man's legs, he couldn't help feeling surprised. The black wheelchair the man was seated in didn't go with his demeanor at all.