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“Specialized supplements. Sometimes biological disruption can interfere with behavioral modification.” Dante kept his tone professional. “These should help stabilize his system during the conditioning process.”

“Supplements.” Leo’s expression brightened, the childlike eagerness in his face a stark reminder of how out of his depth the man truly was. “That’s brilliant. I was worried the pre-heat symptoms might interfere with our progress, but if we can manage them medically...”

“One dose tonight, another in the morning if needed. Should provide several days of stability without compromising his impending heat.”

“Perfect. This is exactly what we needed.” Leo pocketed the bottle with obvious relief, his entire posture relaxing. “He’s been much better this evening—almost like his old manageable self. Your consultation methods are working better than I’d hoped.”

“Behavioral modification is rarely linear,” Dante replied. “The important thing is maintaining consistent progress toward the desired outcomes.”

“Absolutely. Dr. Morrison will be pleased to hear we’re back on track.” Leo’s confidence was returning, the stress lines around his eyes easing. “Your expertise has been invaluable, Dante. I can’t thank you enough.”

Invaluable expertise in making his expensive acquisition fall apart through the strategic application of competent hands. Leo really had no idea what was happening under his roof.

“Professional courtesy,” Dante said, already planning his next moves. “I’m glad we could find a solution that works for everyone involved.”

Everyone except Morrison, who would find his test subject chemically stabilized and therefore less optimal for his forced bonding experiment. But that was a problem for another day.

As he left Leo’s apartment, the weight of the suppressants now in Leo’s possession, Dante wondered if he’d just complicated things further. If the suppressants worked as intended, Orion would be clearheaded enough to make his own decisions again, which might include rejecting Dante’s extraction plan entirely.

And if they failed, or if Morrison moved faster than anticipated...

The image of Orion’s defiant eyes going vacant and adoring made something primal and possessive twist in Dante’s chest. Something that had nothing to do with professional asset management and everything to do with the growing certainty that he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen.

Chapter seventeen

Strategic Planning

Dante

Thesuppressantsworkedbetterthan Dante had hoped. When Leo unlocked Orion’s door for their afternoon consultation, Dante found someone who looked almost normal again.

Almost.

Orion was sitting on the bed reading—actually reading, which was already a massive improvement—but the flush along his cheekbones remained, and his scent still carried that complex sweetness that made Dante’s control feel fragile.

Which meant Orion could think strategically while still looking like every Alpha fantasy come to life.

“How are you feeling today?” Dante asked, settling into the chair while Leo hovered anxiously in the doorway.

“Better.” Orion’s voice was steady, controlled, though his eyes flicked to Dante with something that might have been wariness. “More... focused.”

“Excellent. The supplements seem to be working as intended.” Dante glanced at Leo, who was practically glowing with relief. “I think we can proceed with more intensive psychological mapping today.”

“Of course, whatever you think is best. The progress has been remarkable—he asked to help with breakfast this morning.” Leo was already backing toward the door, eager to leave them to their work. “I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

The locks clicked shut, and tension filled the room despite Orion’s improved condition. The suppressants might have given him back his ability to think, but they’d done nothing to diminish the pheromonal cocktail that made Dante’s hands want to shake. The small room seemed to concentrate Orion’s scent, the stale recycled air carrying it to Dante with each breath he took.

“Books,” Dante said, noting the small stack beside the bed. “Feeling more like yourself?”

“Enough to plan an escape that doesn’t involve me drooling on myself, yes.” Orion’s tone was dry, but there was a playfulness there he hadn’t heard before. “The suppressants help, but they’re not a cure. I’ve never had much luck with suppressants in the past.”

“How long do we have?”

“Hard to say. Maybe a few days before they stop being effective.” Orion set down his book—something about pre-Adjustment history that he’d probably found in Leo’s collection. “Long enough to get out of here, assuming you have a plan beyond corporate espionage and inappropriate touching.”

I could go for some more of that inappropriate touching right now.

“I have a plan,” Dante said, pulling out a tablet. “Seventy-two hours to extract both you and the Project Tether research before my corporate oversight decides to take a more direct approach.”