Apocalyptic Rebirth: With a repairman system space, she rises again. Chapter 620: Too sharp for a fool

The air in the bedroom was thick with the sll of wet wool and impending doom. But it was also hot and comfortable. The nightdress which clung to Moon only monts ago was already drying at a fast pace.

Instead of feeling relief, she was feeling more uncomfortable and that was mostly because of one old man! Peter stood over Moon, his eyes scanning her face like a vulture looking for a soft spot in a carcass. He wasn’t a fool; he’d spent decades sniffing out lies while living in hiding long before the world ended. He was the conman that conned con n.

"You’re lying, Moon," Peter said, his voice dangerously low. "I can sll the hesitation on you. It’s pungent. You know what happens to people that make lose my temper."

Moon shuddered, wrapping her arms around her chest. The nightgown was so flimsy that it left her feeling naked in more ways than one. "I’m not! I swear! Peter, I’ve told you everything. Why would I lie to you now?"

Peter didn’t answer with words. He simply tilted his head toward the floor. "Get off the bed. We’re going to have a little chat with Cassius. Since you can’t seem to find your mory in this room, maybe the person with the bracelet can help you piece things together."

Moon stayed planted on the mattress, her jaw setting in a rare mont of defiance. "I told you, I know nothing more! I’m not going anywhere looking like this. I will not be pushed around like one of your dirty whores that will do anything for a sip of water."

Peter’s lips curled into a thin, mirthless smile. "Fine. If you like to use the tough route, then so be it. Alex is much better at finding lies than I am."

As if summoned by a dark spell, the door creaked open. Alex, Peter’s "human lie detector," was already standing there. He was a man of few words and even fewer emotions_ a superhuman whose only purpose was to read the biological twitches of a liar by listening for small changes in their heartbeat, breath and other physical signs. "She is holding out boss." Alex confird. "I could hear her heartbeat all the way from behind the door."

"Grab her," Peter commanded.

Moon’s eyes widened. "Peter, stop! I need to change! You can’t let him see like_ "

"I said grab her!" Peter’s roar echoed off the walls.

Alex moved with the chanical efficiency of a machine. He didn’t care about decency or "decent clothing." He lunged forward, his large hand snapping around Moon’s thin arm. She shrieked, kicking at the air, but she might as well have been a house cat trying to fight a mountain. He dragged her off the bed, her feet barely touching the floor as he hauled her toward the hallway like a sack of laundry destined for the incinerator.

Their path through the corridors was marked by Moon’s screaming. Doors cracked open as sleepy people peered out, only to quickly shut them when they saw Peter’s grim face. Besides no one liked Moon enough to risk their necks. She always behaved as if she was much better than everyone.

They burst into Cassius’s quarters without knocking. The room slled of expensive bourbon and stale perfu. Cassius was propped up on silk pillows, flanked by two won who were definitely not his wives. He looked up, squinting against the harsh light, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Father?" Cassius groaned. "Do you ever sleep? So of us are trying to enjoy....."

"Sleep is for people without ambition, Cassius," Peter snapped. He gestured sharply to the two won. "Out. Now."

The won scrambled away, not needing to be told twice. Alex tossed Moon forward, and she stumbled, crashing into a mahogany coffee table with a pained grunt. She lay there, shivering and disheveled, feeling every bit trapped like the prisoner she had beco.

Cassius sighed, sliding out of bed and heading straight for a crystal decanter. He poured himself a glass of amber liquid, his hand steady despite the early hour. "Alright. What’s so important that you are throwing my lovely stepmother around at 3:00 AM?"

Peter stepped into his son’s personal space, his eyes burning. "Why am I just now finding out about the bracelet, Cassius? You’ve had a key to godhood sitting in your drawer, and you didn’t think to ntion it to the man who spent his whole life planning for you?"

Cassius took a slow sip, his expression bored. "Because I haven’t figured out how it works, father. It’s just a piece of copper and a few bits of gold. I’ve worn it, I’ve talked to it, I have prayed to it, I have opened it up and put it back together, I’ve even tried bleeding on it. It’s a paperweight. Nothing works on the damn thing." Cassius’s expression shifted, his boredom curdling into a wicked, sharp-edged grin. He looked at Moon with the detached curiosity of a scientist about to dissect a rare specin. Without a word, he unclasped the golden band from his wrist and stepped toward her.

"Let’s test another theory, shall we?" he murmured. Before the apocalypse, Moon had told her parents that she bled on it before and it didn’t work. Perhaps she did it wrong or she did not bleed enough. He needed to confirm it with his very eyes to believe it.

Moon’s eyes went wide as she scrambled backward, her heels skidding on the polished floor. "Cassius, no! Stop it!"

He didn’t stop. He moved with a predator’s speed, pinning her hand against the mahogany coffee table with a grip like a vice. Moon thrashed, a panicked sob rising in her throat, but Cassius was already drawing a small, silver pocketknife from his bedside table. With a quick, practiced flick, he nicked the tip of her index finger.

Despite the cut being smaller than she anticipated, Moon still felt the pain. "You’re insane!" she shrieked, clutching at her hand as a bright crimson bead of blood welled up.

Cassius didn’t flinch. He did not even respond. The apocalypse had made everyone insane in one way or another. He grabbed her bleeding hand and pressed it firmly against the cold tal of the bracelet. They all held their breath_ Peter leaning in with hungry eyes, Alex watching for a flicker of light, and Moon terrified.

The blood sared across the golden surface, dull and dark. A few droplets rolled off the tal and soaked into the rug. The air remained still; there was no hum of power, no glow, and no ancient chanism clicking into place.