Evil MC's NTR Harem

"So, how can I help you, Miss…" Ross began, settling into a chair. The room was noticeably smaller than the one outside, but he didn't mind.

With a glass of wine in hand, he took a slow sip, his gaze steady on Ren, waiting for her to respond.

Ren slid into the chair opposite him, the small table between them acting as a fragile barrier.

"Ren. My name is Ren Hirose. But just call me Ren," she said evenly.

Ross gave a curt nod, his lips still pressed to the rim of his glass. A brief silence stretched before Ren continued.

"I need your help. My family is t—" She launched into her story, her words unraveling the details of her life. It took her nearly ten minutes to get through it all.

Throughout, Ross remained silent, nodding occasionally and taking measured sips from his wine. He let her finish without interruption.

Once Ren was done, Ross placed his glass on the table with deliberate care and leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. He broke the silence with a preamble.

"Would you like something to drink, Ren?" he offered.

"No, I'm good. Thank you," Ren declined politely, her posture tense. She needed to stay sharp—her bodyguards were likely closing in on her by now.

She'd have to make a break for it again soon, though she knew it wouldn't matter much.

Tokyo's labyrinth of streets was under constant surveillance, its thousands of security cameras leaving nowhere to hide.

"Alright, then," Ross said, his tone casual but deliberate.

"Let me explain my terms. I'll give you what you want—I'll help you escape your controlling parents and give you the freedom you're looking for. More than that, even. But there's something you'll have to do for me in return."

Ren's eyes narrowed slightly.

"What do you want?" she asked, though deep down, she already had an inkling. Still, some things needed to be spoken aloud.

Ross leaned forward, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"I want you to be mine. Mind, body, and soul."

Ren's jaw tightened.

"So it's just one prison for another. Nothing's changed," she said bitterly.

"Something has changed," Ross countered smoothly.

"At least now you have a choice. Unlike today, where you're nothing but a bargaining chip, traded away for someone else's benefit. Or would you rather remain a pawn—one that can only move one step forward and never further?"

Ross emptied his glass, setting it down with finality as he waited for Ren's answer.

* * *

Meanwhile, outside Ross's VIP room, six bodyguards moved swiftly down the dimly lit hallway, their polished shoes clicking against the marble floors.

Dressed in tailored black suits, their presence exuded authority and purpose.

Each man was trained to react at a moment's notice, and their mission tonight was clear: find their charge, Ren Hirose, at any cost.

As they approached the door, one of them raised a hand, signaling the group to halt.

Another stepped forward, ready to knock, but before his knuckles could meet the polished wood, a metallic click shattered the stillness.

The bodyguards froze, their years of training kicking in. It was the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked—a sound they knew better than their own voices.

"Move another inch," came a deep, gravelly voice from behind them, "and it'll be the last move you make in this life."

The men exchanged brief glances, their hands twitching, itching for weapons they hadn't been allowed to carry inside. Slowly, as if moving through molasses, they turned to face the speaker.

A tall, hulking figure stood several steps away, cloaked in shadows that seemed to cling to him unnaturally.

The dim hallway lights caught the faint glint of metal—two Uzis, one in each hand, their barrels steady and unwavering.

"Who the hell…" one of the bodyguards muttered under his breath, his voice betraying his disbelief. This was no ordinary club. Its security was so tight that smuggling in a knife was considered impossible.

Yet here stood this man—a giant with a weapon in each hand, as though the rules didn't apply to him.

"My friend," one of the bodyguards, clearly the leader, began in perfect, clipped English, his tone calm but cautious. "This is a misunderstanding. We're not here to—"

Pfft!

The sound of a silenced shot interrupted him. His sentence died along with him as he crumpled to the floor, blood pooling beneath his motionless body.

The remaining five froze, their minds racing. Two instinctively reached for their hips, muscle memory guiding them toward holstered firearms that weren't there.

Their faces twisted in frustration and fear as they realized they'd been disarmed upon entering the club. The other three scrambled, diving for cover behind pillars or throwing themselves flat against the walls.

It didn't matter.

Pfft!

Pfft!

Pfft!

Three more bodies hit the floor, each dispatched with a single precise shot. Blood seeped into the marble, dark and glistening under the dim lights.

The final two bodyguards stood paralyzed, their faces pale as they stared at the towering man who had effortlessly dismantled their team.

Their breaths came in shallow gasps, their instincts screaming at them to run, but fear rooted them in place.

"P-please…" one of them stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Freddie, the man—or perhaps the monster—before them, remained silent. His expression was cold, detached, as if he were completing a routine task.

Pfft!

Pfft!

Two more silenced shots, and the last of the bodyguards crumpled to the ground. The hallway fell silent, save for the faint hum of ambient music drifting from the club's main floor below.

Freddie surveyed the carnage with dispassionate eyes. His loyalty to Ross was absolute, and leaving witnesses alive was a luxury he couldn't afford. There could be no loose ends.

"Food," he growled, his voice a guttural rumble that echoed down the empty corridor.

What happened next was beyond anything human. Freddie's jaw began to stretch, unhinging like a serpent's. His mouth widened to an unnatural degree, revealing rows of sharp, glistening teeth.

In one grotesque motion, he lunged forward, his maw engulfing the nearest body.

The sound was wet and visceral—a mix of bones crunching and flesh tearing—as he swallowed the man whole.

One by one, he consumed the fallen bodyguards, his massive frame hardly straining under the task.

When the last body disappeared down his throat, Freddie stood upright, his jaw snapping back into place with a sickening pop.

Even the blood that had pooled on the marble floor was gone, absorbed into the monstrous puppet as though it had never been there.

The hallway was pristine once more, as if the violence had been nothing more than a passing shadow.

Freddie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression unchanging. His duty done, he stepped back into the shadows, his hulking frame blending seamlessly into the dimly lit corridor.

Inside the VIP room, Ross and Ren remained unaware of the carnage outside, their conversation continuing uninterrupted.

For Freddie, it didn't matter. His master's will had been carried out, and no trace of the intruders remained.

If anyone else interrupts Ross tonight, they'll suffer the same fate as those who did before.

***

It was also around this time that Ren finally gave her answer.

"I…"