Proposal

Chapter 5

Ronan sat in the sleek, dimly lit limo, his body rigid as he faced the man sitting across from him. Nathaniel Graves.

The name alone carried weight, but the man himself? He was something else entirely.

There was an undeniable presence about him—an aura so intense it seemed to shrink the space inside the vehicle. It wasn't just power; it was control. A cold, unshakable control that made Ronan feel like a man standing in the path of an oncoming storm.

Nathaniel's sharp eyes bore into him, unblinking, unreadable. It made Ronan's skin prickle with unease. The hum of the limo's engine was the only sound between them, stretching the silence unbearably.

Then, at last, Nathaniel spoke.

"Since when did you awaken?" His voice was deep, smooth, yet carried an authority that left no room for deception.

Ronan swallowed. The tension in his muscles tightened further.

"Three days ago," he said, keeping his voice even. "Right after I died."

Nathaniel's expression remained unchanged, but something flickered in his gaze. A shift so subtle Ronan almost missed it. Almost.

"No one has ever awakened that way," Nathaniel murmured. It wasn't a question. It was a fact.

Ronan exhaled, rubbing his palms together. He felt like he was being studied, dissected.

"Well, I did," he replied, his voice firmer than he felt.

Nathaniel leaned back slightly, still watching him with that piercing stare. "And what ability did the system grant you?"

Ronan hesitated. What had it given him? A curse? A second chance?

"I don't know exactly," he admitted. "But after it happened, I could move in ways I never thought possible. I was just… normal before. But now? I can move faster than I should."

Nathaniel's gaze sharpened. "Show me your system."

Ronan clenched his jaw. "I can't."

Nathaniel tilted his head, his brows furrowed.

"The moment I was out of danger, it disappeared," Ronan explained. "No missions. No interface. It just… vanished."

Nathaniel studied him, the silence stretching unbearably long before he finally spoke.

"Interesting."

The word sent a chill down Ronan's spine.

After a while, Ronan finally had the courage to ask the question that has been bugging his mind. "What do you know about systems?"

Nathaniel exhaled, folding his fingers together. For the first time, he looked slightly thoughtful—like a man choosing his words carefully.

"Anyone who awakens receives a system tailored to them," he began. "It grants them a task—one that determines whether they deserve power. If they succeed, they're rewarded with an ability. Some receive enhanced strength. Some gain supernatural senses. Some develop abilities so unique they reshape their entire existence.Some awaken abilities that seem insignificant at first but later evolve into something terrifying."

Ronan swallowed. "And if they fail a mission even once?"

Nathaniel's expression darkened. "You should have heard, no one ever survived defying their system."

A cold weight settled in Ronan's gut.

"So," Nathaniel continued, tapping his fingers against his knee, "what exactly did your system make you do?"

Ronan's throat tightened.

It made me kill.

He couldn't say it out loud. Not yet.

Nathaniel didn't press, but Ronan knew he had noticed the hesitation. The man was too sharp to miss it.

Instead, Nathaniel shifted the conversation. "That's why you need to be tested."

Ronan tensed. "Tested?"

"We need to determine exactly what kind of ability you acquired," Nathaniel said. "You'll be brought to our facility. There, you'll be evaluated."

Ronan's stomach churned. "And then what?"

"Then you'll be assigned."

Ronan's hands curled into fists. "Assigned to what?"

Nathaniel leaned forward slightly, the air between them thick with something heavy.

"The Harbingers."

Ronan felt his blood run cold.

He had heard that word before. In rumors. In hushed conversations between people who didn't want to be overheard.

The Harbingers weren't just an elite unit. They were the last line of defense against things the public wasn't allowed to know existed.

Nathaniel watched his reaction closely.

"You're valuable now, Ronan," he said smoothly. "And valuable men don't get to sit on the sidelines."

Ronan shook his head. "I'm not interested."

Nathaniel didn't react. If anything, he seemed amused.

"Of course you're not," he said. "But let me ask you this—what exactly do you plan to do now? Go back to your old job? Pretend none of this happened?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying challenge in it. "Do you think the world will just let you walk away?"

Ronan's jaw clenched, he said nothing because he knew Nathaniel was right. After everything that happened in Lab-06, there was no going back

Nathaniel continued, his words cutting deeper. "You've seen things most men will never understand. You've touched something beyond human limitations. Do you think that kind of power lets you go so easily?"

Ronan exhaled sharply. He needed to think.

Nathaniel gave him a knowing look. "I've recruited men like you before. Stubborn. Resistant. But in the end, they all understood the truth."

"I'm not them," Ronan muttered.

Nathaniel smirked. "Maybe not. But you might want to hear this before you turn me down."

He leaned back slightly, his posture still composed, still in control. "Do you know how much I pay my Harbingers?"

Nathaniel's lips curled slightly, voice calm but deliberate.

"Five hundred thousand."

Ronan's breath hitched. "What?"

"Five hundred thousand," Nathaniel repeated. "Per mission."

Ronan felt like the air had been sucked out of the limo.

That wasn't just good money. That was life-changing money. That was enough to wipe away every struggle, every sleepless night worrying about bills, medical expenses, or his son's future.

His fingers twitched. His mind raced.

He had worked himself to the bone for years, barely scraping by. And now, this man—this stranger—was offering him more in one mission than he had ever made in an entire year.

It was too much. Too tempting.

Nathaniel saw the hesitation flicker in his eyes. His smirk widened.

"You don't have to decide now," he said smoothly. "But think carefully, Ronan. You have a family. You need stability. But more than that—you need protection." His gaze turned sharp. "You're not a normal man anymore. And people will come for you. The only question is whether you'll be ready."

Ronan exhaled, forcing himself to breathe, to think.

He couldn't deny that Nathaniel was right. His old life was gone.

But stepping into something unknown? That was just as dangerous.

"I need to see my son first," Ronan said finally. "I've been unconscious for three days. I need to make sure he's okay."

Nathaniel nodded and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a sleek black card. He held it out between two fingers. "Call me directly when you're ready. No middlemen."

Ronan hesitated before taking it. There was no company name, no title—just a single phone number embossed in gold writing.

The limo slowed as they reached the hospital entrance.

Nathaniel's voice remained firm, his gaze unreadable. "The world isn't what you think it is. It's bigger, darker, and full of things that don't care whether you survive or not." He met Ronan's eyes. "This is your chance to be more than just another man struggling to stay afloat."

Ronan exhaled, gripping the card tightly before stepping out.