Fenrir leaned against the cool metal wall of the container, watching the countdown on his system interface as the police slowly made their way through the city.
It had taken some effort to tap into their movement data, but once inside the system, it wasn't hard to route a passive trace of their GPS.
He estimated they'd be here in just over thirty minutes.
That gave him plenty of time to act… or more precisely, to wait.
After sending out the distress call, Fenrir used the lull to secure the evidence.
He stashed away a few stolen documents and recording devices lying around—careful not to touch too much—and ensured the hamsters were safe inside his dungeon.
With everything accounted for, Fenrir returned to his original cell and tied himself up in loose knots.
He then pulled a thin sleeping potion vial from his inventory and shattered it beside him, coating the air with a faint scent.
By the time the kidnappers stirred awake, Fenrir was slumped over, playing the part of the victim who had knocked himself out with his own weapon.
The kidnappers groaned and rubbed their heads, mumbling curses as they struggled to their feet.
One of them noticed Fenrir and let out a snort.
"Well, look at this genius. Knocked himself out. Thought he could be slick."
Another laughed, kicking lightly at Fenrir's shoe.
"Idiot probably thought he was some kind of secret agent or something."
As they re-tied Fenrir's hands—much more securely this time—he made sure to twitch slightly, feigning an unconscious reaction to the movement.
One of the kidnappers looked down at him thoughtfully.
"Should we move him somewhere else? If he wakes up again, I don't want another surprise."
"Doesn't matter. Our buyer's coming soon anyway. We'll be swimming in money in no time."
The apparent leader shrugged.
Their laughter echoed through the warehouse. Fenrir remained silent, calculating. The police should be arriving any moment now.
Just as they were popping open a dusty bottle of alcohol to toast their future fortune, the sound of multiple car doors slamming outside caught everyone's attention.
The leader frowned, confused.
"That can't be the boss… he never sends this many people."
Another rushed to the window and peeked through the blinds. His face paled.
"Cops! It's the police!"
Chaos erupted.
Two of the men grabbed Fenrir and pulled him upright, pressing a dull knife to his neck as they backed away.
"If they come in, we use him as a shield!"
Fenrir kept his breathing shallow and his expression limp.
He didn't plan to stay in this situation for long, but he wanted to see how the authorities would handle it.
Besides, if he broke character too soon, it would be hard to keep up his "helpless rich kid" image.
"Hands in the air! Drop your weapons!"
Came the command from outside.
The warehouse doors burst open, and a tactical police unit swarmed the interior in seconds, weapons drawn and movements precise.
Chief Hassan was at the lead, barking orders.
"Secure the perimeter! Move in fast—our priority is the hostage!"
The kidnappers panicked.
One of them tried to drag Fenrir toward the back door, but a well-aimed stun shot knocked the weapon from his hands.
Another officer swooped in and yanked Fenrir away, shielding him with his own body while the rest of the team quickly subdued the remaining kidnappers.
It was over in less than thirty seconds.
Fenrir blinked at the speed and efficiency of the takedown.
The officer holding him gave him a once-over.
"You alright, kid?"
"I think so… just dizzy."
Fenrir replied, layering his voice with just enough confusion to sell the act.
Chief Hassan approached, brushing aside debris as he assessed the situation.
"You're the one who called it in?"
Fenrir gave a vague nod.
"Yeah… they thought I was rich. Said they could sell me or ransom me."
"Well, they were wrong. We've got you now. You're safe."
Hassan said, offering a reassuring pat on Fenrir's shoulder before barking new orders.
"Get the boy checked by medics. Sweep the building for more victims or evidence!"
As he was led out of the warehouse, Fenrir looked back once—at the chaos, the subdued criminals, and the way none of them had suspected for a moment that the boy they'd kidnapped was anything more than a scared, useless kid.
He smirked to himself.
'Let them keep thinking that. It makes everything so much easier.'
The police officer, a stern-faced man in a navy tactical uniform, crouched beside Fenrir with a clipboard in hand.
"We've sent an emergency alert to your registered contact of choice. They should be arriving to take you home shortly."
He informed.
Fenrir blinked.
"My contact?"
"Yes. It's protocol for underaged victims in kidnapping cases."
The officer said.
Fenrir's brows furrowed.
'Who could it be?' He hadn't registered anyone himself.
But it wasn't like this identity was truly his to begin with. He felt his stomach churn—not from fear, but a strange sense of dread.
His shoulders tensed, breath shallow. But after a moment, he recognized that the reaction didn't stem from him. It was deeper, instinctive. Residual.
'This must be the original Fenrir's fear. Whoever is coming… he didn't want to see them.'
He thought, pressing a hand to his chest.
But Fenrir was no child.
He had seen worse. Done worse.
He closed his eyes briefly and centered himself, pushing those borrowed emotions aside with ease. His nerves calmed as his mind cleared.
Fifteen minutes later, a sleek black car pulled up to the cordoned-off area.
A tall man stepped out, sharply dressed in a grey suit with a crimson tie.
His hair was perfectly slicked back and his face looked like it had been carved out of marble—cold and precise. He walked toward the scene with purposeful steps, flashing an ID at the guards.
"Louis Gram. Secretary of CEO Black. I'm here to collect young master Fenrir Black on the order of his brother."
He announced.
The police officer turned toward Fenrir and gave him a brief nod.
"Looks like your ride is here."
But Fenrir didn't move. His eyes narrowed at the approaching man.
Something about him screamed manipulation.
He could see it in the way the man's eyes flicked to him—calculating, cold.
"I'd like to go home alone."
Fenrir said quietly.
The officer blinked, surprised.
"What?"
"I don't trust that man. I'd rather go home on my own."
Fenrir said, louder this time.
A thick silence settled over the space. The officer looked from Fenrir to Louis Gram, clearly thrown off by the sudden tension.
Louis sighed, stepping forward with a forced smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Young master, this isn't the time to be willful. Your brother is already upset. You know how he is when you act out."
Fenrir's jaw clenched, and the original body's fear flared again in his chest.
But this time, Fenrir didn't push it away—he absorbed it. He understood now.
'So that's the kind of relationship he had with his brother? I guess I should finally meet that brother of mine and clear the air out between us.'
And suddenly, he was even more certain: he wouldn't go anywhere with Louis Gram
"Is my brother going to break the support fund he set up for me? If so, then you can tell him I no longer need it."
Now that was a bomb Fenrir decided to drop on the secretary.