Chapter 3

“Shut up! Who are you putting on this pathetic act for? What could possibly happen?”

Caleb’s face showed not a flicker of concern. Instead, he watched my distress with open contempt.

“Let’s roll out!”

Captain Rex, hearing the command, slammed his foot on the accelerator.

A powerful jolt threw me back. I felt as if I were flying. My tied hands were useless, and my voice, broken and fragmented by the speed, tried to cry out: “Please, slow down…”

The zombies lurking outside the city, drawn by the noise, surged towards the armored vehicle from all directions.

Captain Rex, visibly thrilled, accelerated further, utterly ignoring my pleas. The world spun around me.

The vehicle’s full-throttle charge transformed the zombies into a mangled pile of flesh and bone.

Then, with an abrupt screech, it reversed dozens of meters, only for Captain Rex to drive it forward again, like a madman possessed.

My fear intensified, rendering my pleas unspoken. My heart hammered against my ribs, lodged in my throat.

As the vehicle climbed over the zombie pile, the violently jolting chassis suddenly launched into the air, landing with a deafening crash on an open patch of ground ten meters away, kicking up a storm of dust.

At that exact moment, a heavy, dragging sensation tore through my lower abdomen.

A gush of warm liquid spilled from beneath me.

My brows furrowed, my face instantly draining of color, pale as parchment.

I looked at the remote camera mounted in the cockpit, shaking my head violently, begging for mercy.

I knew Caleb was watching my pathetic, tortured state, taking it all in.

But the armored vehicle continued its wild rampage, circling again and again, showing no signs of stopping.

My throat burned from screaming, my cries for help torn apart by the wind.

The tearing pain in my lower abdomen sapped every ounce of my strength.

On the other end of the surveillance feed, Isabelle had appeared beside Caleb.

They were both laughing, watching me transition from frantic screams to a deathly pale silence, until I finally succumbed, collapsing into unconsciousness.

When I was carried out, my lower body was a bloody mess.

“Barely lasted this long? Useless.”

Caleb didn’t spare me a single second of his gaze.

“Oh, Caleb dearest, that armored vehicle is amazing! Isabelle hasn’t had enough fun yet!” Isabelle cooed, playfully fawning over him.

Caleb looked at Isabelle with doting affection, leaning in to whisper in her ear:

“I’ll show you some real fun later.”

His eyes briefly swept over me, then he gave a cold command:

“Drag this dead woman away. Don’t let her taint everyone.”

I completely lost consciousness.

Under the dim surgical lights, blurry images of the past flickered before my eyes.

Three years ago, I was nothing more than a nameless, lowly slave in this city.

When my biological parents found me, I was already bruised and battered, barely clinging to life in an iron cage.

It turned out I was the real destined one, swapped at birth. My biological father was Reverend Silas Sterling, the Patriarch of the Purity Doctrine, revered by the people of this ravaged world.

I appeared before them, trembling, hoping I’d finally found loving parents, a warm home.

Instead, I saw my mother gently soothing Isabelle, who was weeping inconsolably in her arms:

“Don’t cry, Isabelle, darling. How could you not be your father’s and my daughter? You’re our only precious one, our treasure.”

My father sat silently at the head of the table. Everyone else cast unfriendly, sidelong glances at me, whispering amongst themselves.

I stood there, enduring their stares, my hands twisting the blood-stained fabric of my clothes, utterly an outsider.

Finally, my father slowly spoke:

“Seraphina, we brought you into this world. Now that you’re grown, it’s time you repaid us.”

They weaponized the fact of my birth, twisting it into an inescapable obligation, commanding me to marry Warlord Caleb Blackwood in Isabelle’s place.

This was because Caleb had been severely wounded in battle, and Isabelle, in a dramatic display, declared she’d rather die than marry a cripple.

It became painfully clear: my parents’ search for their lost child was merely a cynical ploy to mask their sinister agenda.

I wiped away a humble tear from the corner of my eye and said:

“I agree. But first, delete my slave genetic coding.”

“From this day forward, we will have no further ties.”

They agreed.

And so, I married Warlord Caleb Blackwood.

Standing before Caleb, he never once looked at me directly.

After the wedding, I learned of his isolated upbringing, devoid of parental love, and I felt a pang of pity for him.

In public, he used a mask of cold detachment to uphold his pride.

But when I caught him alone, in despair, impotently striking his own useless legs, my heart inexplicably ached for him.

I foolishly believed that two people starved of love could find solace in each other.

I wanted to heal his scarred soul, to pull us both from the shadows that had defined our miserable lives.

I poured every ounce of my effort into being a dutiful wife.

But the deeper I went, the more I lost myself.

Until, tragically, I couldn’t even protect myself, letting the life within me be cruelly extinguished before it even had a chance to breathe.