Page 64 of The Sterling Acquisition
And in a few minutes, he’d demonstrate to everyone involved why Gensyn operatives were considered the most dangerous people in the corporate territories.
Chapter twenty-one
Direct Intervention
Orion
Thesecurityguard’sbloodtasted like copper and fear, and Orion spat it out with vicious satisfaction as the man stumbled backward, clutching his torn cheek.
“Fucking animal!” the guard snarled, his hand coming away red. “How is something that small doing this much damage?”
Orion bared his teeth in a feral grin. Three guards, Leo hovering by the door, and Dr. Morrison with his medical bag like some kind of corporate vulture—and they still couldn’t get him to hold still.
Good. Let them work for it.
The guard closest to the window looked pale and sweaty, swaying on his feet. Orion’s scent was hitting him hard—two missed doses of suppressants plus the stress of fighting turned his pheromones into a weapon that was making the bastard dizzy.
“You should have brought more people,” Orion spat at Dr. Morrison, who was watching the proceedings with clinical detachment. “Or maybe you should have asked Leo how well hismanagement techniqueshave been working out.”
“Secure the subject’s verbal capabilities,” Morrison said calmly. “We’re operating on a predetermined schedule.”
The bleeding guard lunged forward, probably hoping to get revenge for his ruined face, but Orion was already moving. He might be restrained, but he wasn’t helpless—not yet. His knee came up hard, connecting with the man’s gut, and the guard crumpled with a strangled gasp.
“Coward!” Orion shouted at Leo, who pressed against the wall like he wanted to disappear. “Can’t even watch what you started? Too fucking pathetic to see this through yourself?”
Leo flinched, his fingers nervously straightening his already-perfect collar. He reeked of alcohol—liquid courage that wasn’t working very well. “This is a necessary procedure,” he muttered, the justification sounding hollow. “It’s the most efficient solution to our productivity challenges.”
Dr. Morrison stepped closer, pulling something from his medical bag that looked like a taser. “Gentlemen, if you would establish proper physical compliance protocols, please. We can’t afford to jeopardize our implementation timeline with continued behavioral resistance.”
“Behavioral resistance?” Orion spat at Morrison’s polished shoes, watching with satisfaction as the man stepped back in disgust. “That’s what you call defending myself against corporate-sponsored rape?”
Morrison’s voice remained maddeningly calm. “Establish immobilization.”
Two guards grabbed Orion’s arms while the third positioned the taser against his ribs. The electrical shock hit him like a sledgehammer, every muscle in his body seizing as lightning shot through his nervoussystem. He bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste filling his mouth as he fought to stay conscious.
When the current stopped, he slumped between the guards, his vision blurry and his limbs twitching with residual electricity.
“Optimal compliance achieved,” Morrison observed, crouching down to meet Orion’s eyes. “Now, I have a few preliminary assessment questions before we begin the bond enhancement procedure.”
Orion tried to spit at him again, but his mouth wasn’t cooperating yet.
“First query: confirm virginal status of the Omega asset.”
“Get fucked,” Orion managed, his voice hoarse from screaming.
“I’ll document that as confirmation. Second query: verify absence of previous Alpha claiming within the contractual period.”
“I said get fucked.”
Morrison smiled thinly. “Also affirmative, then. Excellent. Unclaimed Omega subjects demonstrate significantly enhanced receptivity to the bonding catalyst. The neurochemical attachment forms with greater stability when there’s no previous conditioning to overcome.”
Neurochemical attachment. Like he was talking about industrial adhesive instead of destroying someone’s mind.
“Third query: confirm current pre-heat biological status.”
Orion glared at him silently. His skin was fever-hot, his body producing slick despite the terror and rage, every instinct screaming that he needed to find somewhere safe to ride out the biological storm that was building. But he wasn’t going to give Morrison the satisfaction of admitting it.
“Your pheromonal signature provides sufficient verification,” Morrison said, pulling a syringe from his bag. “Though I believe wecan optimize the timeline through an appropriate catalyst introduction. Mr. James?”
