Page 124 of The Sterling Acquisition
“A corporate operative,” Dante said, “would make the smart play.”
“And you’re not going to do that?”
“No. I’m going to walk into an obvious trap because the alternative involves leaving you behind, and I’ve developed some kind of psychological dysfunction that makes that option unacceptable.”
Orion’s smile was sharp. “Psychological dysfunction?”
“Professional term for making decisions based on emotional attachment rather than logical assessment,” Dante said, watching the way afternoon light caught the flush across Orion’s cheekbones. “It’s considered a career-limiting condition in corporate environments. Terrible for productivity metrics.”
“Good thing you’re not in a corporate environment anymore.”
“Good thing,” Dante agreed, though he wasn’t sure that abandoning everything he’d been trained to value was an improvement in their current circumstances. On the other hand, corporate training had never prepared him for situations involving beautiful, heat-affected Omegas who made his brain forget basic tactical protocols.
Another drone passed overhead, this one flying lower and slower than the others. Reconnaissance rather than herding, which meant their window of mobility was closing faster than he calculated. And if they were using scent-tracking technology in addition to visual surveillance, Orion’s persistent heat would make them impossible to hide.
“Time to move,” he said, shouldering his pack. “Whatever’s waiting for us in that valley, we’re about to find out.”
The valley opened up ahead of them like a mouth, all sight lines and perfect positioning for anyone with the high ground and sufficient motivation to use it. The rocky walls rose sharply on both sides, creating a natural funnel that narrowed to a choke point fifty yards in. Beyond that, the valley opened to a wider clearing—ideal for a containment team to spring their trap. Everything about their approach screamed amateur hour and tactical suicide.
Dante had never been so irrationally hopeful about such terrible odds.
“You know,” Orion said as they prepared to enter the killbox, his voice hoarse from exhaustion but still carrying that edge of defiance, “for someone who spent years working for a corporation that specializes in efficiency, you’ve gotten remarkably bad at making smart decisions.”
“I’m out of practice,” Dante replied. “Besides, I’m optimizing for different objectives now.”
“Such as?”
“Keeping you alive. Everything else is secondary.”
Orion’s expression shifted into something softer, more complicated than his usual sharp defiance. “That’s either very romantic or very stupid.”
“Both,” Dante said.
His professional assessment of their chances remained unchanged. However, his willingness to care about professional assessments had undergone complete systemic failure.
Love, he reflected as they walked toward certain ambush, really was the most inefficient emotion he’d ever experienced.
It was also, he was discovering, completely worth it.
Chapter forty-six
Surrounded
Orion
Thevalleywasatextbook example of stupidity—open ground surrounded by elevated positions, minimal cover, and sight lines that would make a sniper weep with joy. Orion had seen corporate execution sites with better defensive potential. The limestone walls rose forty feet on either side, their rough surfaces offering no feasible climbing routes, while the scattered boulders and scrubby vegetation provided only the illusion of concealment rather than actual cover. The late afternoon sun cast harsh shadows across the dusty ground, making every movement painfully visible to anyone watching from above.
“Well,” he said, surveying their soon-to-be-final destination while crouching behind a waist-high boulder that wouldn’t stop anything stronger than harsh language, “at least when they write the report about how we died, they won’t be able to criticize our commitment to bad decisions.”
Dante studied ridgelines with the focused attention of someone cataloging how fucked they were, his jaw tight. The lingering heat made everything feel sharper, more immediate—including the way Dante’s protective instincts had been ramping up for the past hour.
The bond between them had calmed Orion’s heat from its previous incapacitating intensity, but the residual effects still coursed through his system, making his skin hypersensitive, his stomach ache, and his emotions dangerously close to the surface. Every sound seemed amplified, every scent more potent—especially Dante’s.
“Multiple positions,” Dante said. “At least two teams, probably more. They’re not even trying to hide their presence anymore.”
Orion could see them now—figures moving along the ridges. On the western ridge, the distinctive gray tactical gear of Gensyn Regulators, each operator a mirror image of precision in movement and positioning. On the eastern side, the bulkier silhouettes of SVI Rangers in their signature black and red, carrying the heavy-caliber containment rifles that earned them the nickname “one-shot solutions” in territorial disputes.
“How many?” he asked, though the answer probably didn’t matter. Whether it was five people or fifty, the mathematics remained the same: they were walking into a killbox with no backup and limited ammunition.
