icon 0
icon TOP UP
rightIcon
icon Reading History
rightIcon
icon Sign out
rightIcon
icon Get the APP
rightIcon

The Surgeon's Debt: Bound To The Beast

Chapter 8 No.8

Word Count: 482    |    Released on: 12/01/2026

with his hands in his pockets, looking at the gun as

ity team has a lock on you from the bridge. You pull that trigge

ared on Jairo's che

the dots. He looked a

ered t

round, Collier. But the investigation continues. If I

inton said. "Now,

alked over to Isela, who was sti

a smear of blood from h

ispered. "Pray he nev

he helicopter.

ed off, banking

it go. Then he

er legs gave out. She slu

Two of his persona

cuffs off her

the cuffs. Isela ru

he breathed. "

ed down at h

erself to stan

er elbow. His gr

er that only she could hear. "You manipulated me in fron

owed hard.

d began to wipe the blood from her neck. His touch was clinical,

said quickly. "I c

kerchief on the deck. "You need a reason to be here that Jairo

t re

eon," Clinton said. "You

wned. "Ca

es darkening. "You are the only thing that work

ike slavery,"

Clinton corrected

n to walk toward t

mmanded. "We have

one last time. Then she looke

ollow

-

Claim Your Bonus at the APP

Open
The Surgeon's Debt: Bound To The Beast
The Surgeon's Debt: Bound To The Beast
“I was a surgeon on the most luxurious ship in the world, scrubbing my hands until they were raw to forget the name Ye Jiuting and the past I'd left behind. But at 2:15 AM, Room 404 became my graveyard when a federal agent flatlined on my table, and the world I'd built turned into a nightmare. The nurse handed me a syringe she swore was a standard antibiotic, but the ship's medical files had been scrubbed to hide a fatal allergy. Before the body was even cold, the widow was screaming murder, and the ship's foreman, Huston Lyons, was at my throat with a predatory grin. "You killed him, Doctor," Huston sneered, "and on this ship, people like you tend to disappear overboard." When I tried to prove the syringe was clean, Huston's brutal grip forced the needle into my own arm, injecting me with a lethal stimulant that sent my heart into a violent, scorching frenzy. I fled into the bowels of the ship, my vision warping and my lungs burning, while a ship-wide announcement declared a five-million-dollar bounty on my head. Every desperate gambler and debt-ridden crew member was now hunting me like an animal for a chance at a clean slate. I didn't understand how the digital records could lie or why a routine dose had been replaced with poison. Was I a target, or just a convenient scapegoat for a conspiracy much larger than a single death? Just as the mercenaries were about to drag me to a black site, Clinton Collier, the terrifying "King of the Leviathan," stepped out of the shadows and claimed my life as his own. "She is my Caretaker now," he declared, wrapping a black silk ribbon around my neck to mark me as his exclusive property. I had escaped the gallows only to be collared by a monster, but as I felt his madness recede under my touch, I realized that being his only cure was the most dangerous weapon I possessed.”