Page 59 of The Sterling Acquisition
4Bfeltlikeasanctuary after eighteen hours of logistics and preparation. The secure transportation was arranged, and multiple extraction routes were mapped and memorized between the research facility and his contact. Everything they’d need to disappear into the Neutral Zone once they cleared SVI’s borders.
He dropped the duffel bag containing emergency provisions and settled into his chair. Forty-eight hours of careful planning compressed into a single night of frantic preparation, but they were as ready as they could be for the extraction window tomorrow evening.
Stealing classified technology from a secured facility while extracting a high-value asset, all without leaving traces that could start a corporate war.
Just another day in the life of a Gensyn operative.
His encrypted phone buzzed with an incoming call, and Dante felt his brief moment of satisfaction evaporate.
“Good morning,” he answered, keeping his voice neutral despite the exhaustion.
“Dante, darling! I hope you don’t mind the early call, but I simply had to check in on your progress.” Amalie said, the artificial brightness in her tone—that specific cadence that indicated corporate scrutiny—set his nerves on edge. “The Board is quite eager for updates on your acquisition timeline.”
“Everything is proceeding according to schedule,” Dante replied. “The research access has been secured, and asset extraction is planned for the next operational window.”
“Wonderful! Though I have to say, your biological markers have been quite concerning lately.” Her tone remained light, but Dante could hear the edge underneath. “Your stress indicators are reaching levels we’ve never recorded, even during your assignment to Elysian Dynamics territory.”
The Elysian mention wasn’t coincidental. During that particularly disastrous mission, he’d ended up swallowing a data drive and meeting his extraction team from a corporate “wellness retreat” wearing nothing but a ceremonial loincloth and his steel-toed wingtips. His bio-readings during that particular escape became something of a legend among handlers.
“The electromagnetic interference from SVI’s industrial operations has been affecting the bio-monitor calibration,” Dante said, using the same explanation that worked before. “The readings aren’t reliable in this environment.”
“Perhaps. Though it’s interesting that the interference seems to be getting worse rather than better as you acclimate to the local conditions.” Amalie’s voice carried the kind of gentle concern that was actually a warning. “The readings suggest your stress response is approaching dangerous levels for effective operation.”
Translation: they were questioning his mental state and, by extension, his loyalty to corporate interests.
“I’m functioning within normal parameters,” Dante insisted. “The mission objectives remain my priority.”
“Of course they do, sweetie. I never doubted your professionalism.” There was a pause.
“All variables are under control,” Dante assured her, though even he could hear how unconvincing it sounded.
“I’m sure they are. Just remember that the Board values results over sentiment. They’re quite looking forward to examining both the technology and the test subject.” Another pause. “Complete delivery, Dante. No exceptions.”
The call ended, leaving Dante staring at his phone and processing the not-so-subtle threat. Gensyn was getting suspicious of his emotional state, and they wanted both Project Tether and Orion delivered without deviation from orders.
Which made his plan to extract Orion separately significantly more complicated.
A sharp knock on his door interrupted his strategic planning. Dante checked the time— 6:00 AM. Too early for casual visitors, which meant either an emergency or a crisis.
He opened the door to find Leo standing in the hallway, and immediately knew it was both.
Leo looked like hell as usual, sporting a new bruise on his jaw. But it was his eyes that told the real story—red-rimmed from drinking and crying, wild with the kind of desperation that came from losing control of a situation he’d never really controlled in the first place.
“We need to talk,” Leo said without preamble, pushing past Dante into the apartment.
“It’s six in the morning,” Dante observed, closing the door and noting how Leo swayed on his feet. Still drunk, but sobering up fast. “This couldn’t wait for business hours?”
“Don’t.” Leo spun around, his expression cycling between fury and something that might have been panic. “Don’t give me corporate pleasantries. I know what you’ve been doing.”
Dante kept his expression neutral despite the alarm bells going off in his head. His breath slowed, his posture straightening almost imperceptibly. His training kicked in—the transition to what his instructors called “operational focus” and what he privately thought of as his espionage zen mode.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” he replied, his voice taking on a cadence that revealed nothing while inviting elaboration.
“My asset. My property. What have you done to him?” Leo’s voice cracked on the words, and Dante could see he was fighting to maintain coherence through alcohol and sleep deprivation.
“I’ve been conducting psychological assessments as requested,” Dante replied calmly. “The same consultation work we’ve discussed multiple times.”
“Bullshit.” Leo moved closer, and Dante could smell the wine on his breath mixed with desperation. “He smells like you. Constantly. Like sex and Alpha pheromones and things that have nothing to do with consultation.”
