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“And if that’s not possible?”

“Then I want to make his life as miserable as he’s made mine until one of us dies or gives up.”

Dante nodded slowly, as if that was a perfectly reasonable business plan. “Have you considered a third option?”

“Such as?”

“Transfer of contract.”

The words hit him cold and hard. The thing he’d been dreading since the day SVI slapped his father’s medical debt on him and Leo bought it at auction. Being sold to someone else, someone who mightbe worse, someone who might break him in ways Leo hadn’t been willing to yet.

“To whom?” he asked, proud that his voice stayed steady despite the memories flooding back.

“Someone who might take a different approach.”

The implication hung in the air between them. Orion felt his heart rate spike, adrenaline flooding his system in the familiar cocktail of fight-or-flight that kept him alive this long.

“You,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Potentially.”

“And you think you’d be an improvement over Leo?”

“I think I wouldn’t waste a year trying to break what’s valuable precisely because it won’t break.”

There it was. A hook wrapped in silk. The reasonable voice offering reasonable solutions. The predator who understood that honey caught more flies than vinegar.

Dante’s hand shifted, almost absently, as if to smooth down a piece of Orion’s hair that had fallen across his forehead during their conversation. It was a casual gesture, the kind of unconscious touching that Alphas seemed to think they were entitled to.

Orion’s response was immediate and violent. He snapped his teeth at the approaching fingers, jaw clicking shut inches from Dante’s hand with the sharp sound of bone meeting bone.

“Careful there, suit,” Orion warned. “I don’t have the muzzle on right now. You want to keep those pretty, soft fingers of yours, you’d better be more mindful about where you put them.”

To his credit, Dante didn’t jerk his hand back or step away. Instead, he held still, studying Orion with those calculating gray eyes. There was approval in his expression.

“Point taken,” Dante said calmly, lowering his hand. “My apologies. Occupational hazard.”

“What kind of occupation involves touching people without permission?”

“The kind that involves managing valuable assets.” Dante’s smile was sharp enough to cut glass. “But you’re quite right. Consent is an important part of any successful negotiation.”

The way he said ‘negotiation’ made it sound like another thing entirely. His skin tingled where Dante had almost touched him, the phantom sensation more disturbing than any actual contact.

And the terrifying part was that Orion was considering it.

“What would you want from me?” he asked.

“That would depend on what you’re willing to give.” Dante shifted closer again.

“Nothing. I’m willing to give nothing.”

“Then we’d have to negotiate.” Dante’s voice was lower now, almost intimate. “I find negotiation can be mutually beneficial when both parties understand what they bring to the table.”

Despite the fact that he was essentially discussing the terms of his ownership, Orion felt his lips curve into a smile. This Alpha was dangerous in all the ways Leo wasn’t. Smart, controlled, and unimpressed by displays of aggression.

“You’re definitely not Leo.”

“No,” Dante agreed, and there was a hungry quality in the way his gaze moved over Orion’s face. “I’m not.”