Merfolk's Deep Haven

Ann stirred awake, roused by the jolting motion around her. Nearly forty-eight hours had passed without a sip of water. The salty tang in her nostrils and the distant murmur of waves from across the deck intensified her thirst, mingling with a nauseating dizziness. It seemed like an ordinary ship traversing the Atlantic, though appearances could be deceiving. Ann, along with other stowaways, occupied a chilly cabin permeated with the scent of engine oil. The tight confines hosted scores of people, their breaths heavy, voices a blend of whispers and clamor. Despite the cacophony, the atmosphere was warm. Ann teetered on the brink of a new life, fantasizing about the northern reaches of Europe awaiting her — a land of expansive farmlands and sunlight kissing golden wheat fields, vivid in her mind. But everything took a sudden turn when a squad of burly, uniformed men brandishing guns barged in, ominously aiming at the stowaways' heads. The tension in the air hinted at impending trouble. They herded the stowaways, inspecting their necks one by one to assess their glandular status. It was a profoundly inhumane and debasing experience. Yet, by strict definition, stowaways were undocumented immigrants, stripped of societal protection. In this plight, they were bereft of identity. Alphas held dominion over most of society's resources. Possessing robust physiques, they exuded an air of aggression and conquest — much like the man handling Ann now. Normally impervious to pheromones, Ann felt overwhelmed by the thick aura emitted by the person grasping her. It permeated through her skin's pores, its weightiness stifling, potentially harmful had she been an omega. She detested the pungent, cloying odor of Alphas. Weakly, Ann tilted her head. Even the faintest resistance met with harsher restraints. Coarse fingers pinched her chin, compelling her gaze upward. The cold metal of a gun barrel loomed near her temple. "Look at this exquisite oriental bird. So delicate…" His fingers trailed along Ann's cheek, voicing surprise tinged with hesitation. "You still retain those black eyes — Japanese?" Ann possessed eyes as dark as her hair, fair skin, and lithe limbs, projecting no threat whatsoever. Angry, she shook her head, incensed either by the term "Japanese" or by the man's frivolous, contemptuous behavior and tone. The towering man whistled, "Doesn't matter. Not an omega, so play as you wish. A charming little oriental bird. Whether Japanese or not, we'll discover soon." Laughter erupted within the confined cabin. Clad in officer uniforms yet resembling pirates, the man dragged Ann to another room, his accomplices cheering and jeering behind him. Helpless captives, held at gunpoint like her, could only cast sympathetic glances. As the door slammed shut, the man aggressively advanced. The reek of alcohol nauseated, "Poor beta, never known joy…" "You'll meet your end," Ann strained to utter. "What's that, my little bird?" He didn't catch her words, dismissing them, forcing her head toward him. Ann's mouth was forced open, the acrid scent of gunpowder emanating from the gun barrel above her head. Shoved forcefully, her teeth collided with a thick, hard object, jabbing indiscriminately. Nausea overwhelmed her. The man yanked her hair viciously, eliciting guttural gasps. Ann was on the brink of vomiting, anger surging within. Gripping the fleshy piece in her mouth, she pulled forcefully. A gunshot tore through the air, bullets' screeching cries echoing in the cabin. Covering her shoulders, Ann managed to dodge, though the bullet grazed her flesh. The p***s severed mid-section, blood spurting, agonized screams piercing Ann's eardrums. Spitting out the putrid flesh, "I warned you of your demise." The large man thrashed wildly, pupils dilated, rendered speechless by excruciating pain, akin to a dying animal. Ann paid him no further mind. Footsteps neared the door. Despite searing agony, Ann retrieved the fallen gun, aiming it at the door's crevice. "Bang—" The door swung open. Amidst countless pointed barrels aimed her way, a composed man emerged from the crowd, a pair of indifferent blue eyes framed by gold-rimmed glasses. "Miss Kondo, lower the gun, please." Ignoring him, Ann held her ground. "Your supposed father entrusted your well-being to me. I apologize for this unsavory welcome, following an old Eastern proverb," he spoke slowly, his smile faultless, his tone aristocratic. Ann shook her head. "I don't know you." His attention lingered on the bloody wound adorning her shoulder, a faint frown appearing. "You require medical attention." Disregarding Ann's demeanor, he emitted a potent pheromone — cool, reminiscent of cypress — to envelop her. "I am Rick," he introduced, striding forward to retrieve the gun from Ann's grasp, extending his arm, and pulling the trigger as he uttered the last syllable. Eyes shut tight, Ann took a deep breath. No bullet discharged, only the click of the firing pin. Rick discarded the gun, arms outstretched, smiling at her. "Ms. Kondo, this pistol holds just one bullet." The gun stained with her blood, Ann bowed her head, her long locks obscuring her face, concealing her expression. Rick nonchalantly stood up, directing his entourage to dispose of the bodies littering the ground, including the gruesome remains, into the sea. He regarded Ann calmly, his voice soft. "I startled you." Ann sensed no remorse in his tone. Her lips curled in a corner, a sardonic retort escaping, "Then, I must extend my gratitude to Colonel Rick for the reassurance." The cabin's incandescent lights flickered on, illuminating his military uniform beneath the pristine coat. The platinum insignia on his shoulder gleamed, cold and striking, underscoring his status and authority. Rick's profile blurred in the light, "The Kondo family in Japan searches for an omega adopted daughter who fled. Senior Kondo requested we provide better care for you." "Thank you for your kind care," Ann gritted her teeth. Rick's voice remained composed. "You're welcome." The Kondo family had divulged that the absconded girl was an omega. Yet, the Miss Ann before him seemed even more unassuming than an average beta. Her striking resemblance to a beta perhaps prompted the mercenaries to be so ruthless. Rick harbored suspicions that she might have taken suppressants, thus deploying his pheromones to stimulate her glands. Yet, it appeared ineffective. Owing to their scarcity, omegas were prized as a crucial reproductive asset. Typically, the omegas Rick encountered were tender, delicate, innocent, and tearful. Ann, however, defied such conventions. Ann possessed incredible abilities, a strong will, and a frightening capability — she could bite off a man's lower extremities. Rick watched Ann closely as she rinsed her mouth with water. The expression on her face revealed nothing but indifference, a far cry from what one would expect of a conventional lady. Rick's suspicions about Ann's true nature were confirmed. A slight frown formed on Rick's face as he considered delving deeper into Ann's mysteries. But before he could voice his thoughts, Ann interrupted him unexpectedly. "I haven't started to show my differences yet," she stated calmly.