Page 33 of The Sterling Acquisition
We. Like it’s a partnership instead of ownership.
But Orion just nodded, because arguing would require energy he didn’t have and would probably make Leo suspicious. Better to let him think his “asset” was finally becoming more compliant.
“I should let you get some rest,” Leo said. “Big day tomorrow. More meetings, more planning.”
More planning for my chemical lobotomy, you mean.
“Sure. Restsounds good.”
Leo lingered for a moment, as if there was something else he wanted to say. But whatever it was, exhaustion won out over communication skills.
“Good night, Orion.”
“Good night.”
The locks engaged with their familiar series of clicks, and Orion was alone again. Back in his cage, back to the narrow mattress and bare walls and the constant hum of ventilation that had become the soundtrack to his captivity.
This is what you chose. Safety over freedom, familiarity over possibility.
But even as he tried to settle into sleep, his mind kept drifting back to Dante’s apartment. To the way it felt to have space to move, to breathe, to exist without walls pressing in from every direction. The way Dante looked at him—not like property to be managed, but like a puzzle worth solving.
He offered you a night of freedom, and you ran back to your cage.
The thought was bitter, but not entirely accurate. Because what Dante offered wasn’t freedom—it was a different kind of captivity, more seductive and therefore more dangerous. At least here, in Leo’s ineffective custody, Orion knew what he was dealing with.
Incompetent ownership versus competent ownership. Those are your choices.
Unless he could find a third option. Unless he could figure out how to break his contract, disappear into the Static Zones, and become one of the unmanaged Omegas who lived outside corporate control.
Assuming you survive long enough to try.
Because Leo’s patience was running out, and Dante’s interest was becoming difficult to resist. Time was running out for all of hisoptions, and every choice he made seemed to lead to a different form of surrender.
At least surrendering to Dante would feel good.
Orion pulled his thin blanket over his head and tried to block out the memory of confident hands that knew exactly how to touch him, of a voice promising filthy things in tones that made his body ache despite every rational objection. But that other blanket was still under his pillow, and he was just hotboxing himself in Dante’s scent. Even as he felt his skin begin to flush in response, he stayed beneath the sheet.
Just breathing him in.
Tomorrow you’ll have to see him again. Tomorrow you’ll have to pretend none of this happened.
But as he lay there in the dark, surrounded by the familiar walls of his prison, Orion knew that pretending was going to be impossible. Because Dante had changed something fundamental between them, and proven that all of Orion’s defenses were ultimately useless against someone who understood what he needed.
And the worst part is, you want him to do it again.
Sleep, when it came, was full of dreams about being pinned against walls by confident hands and voices promising things that made him wake up hard and frustrated and more confused than ever about what he wanted.
Freedom. You want freedom.
But even his subconscious seemed to be arguing with that assessment, replaying memories of surrendering control and finding it felt like the most honest thing he’d ever done.
You’re fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.
Chapter ten
Strategic Adjustments
Dante
