Page 66 of The Sterling Acquisition
Leo’s hands closed around Orion’s throat, cutting off his words and his air supply. His face twisted with rage and humiliation, his grip tightening as Orion clawed at his wrists.
“Lying little whore,” Leo snarled. “Ungrateful fucking—”
The apartment door exploded inward with a sound like thunder.
Through his fading vision, Orion saw a figure in a bloodstained suit jacket step through the wreckage, automatic weapons in both hands.
Dante had arrived.
And he looked like he was ready to kill everyone in the room.
Chapter twenty-two
Exit Interview with Prejudice
Dante
Theapartmentdoorgaveway under Dante’s shoulder like it was made of cardboard instead of reinforced corporate housing material.
Five hostiles, one target, enclosed space. The primal part of his brain saw an Alpha’s hands onhisOmega and wanted to paint the walls with blood.
“Leo,” Dante said pleasantly, stepping through the ruined doorway with both semi-automatic rifles slung over his shoulder. “I have to say, your asset management techniques have really deteriorated since our last consultation.”
Every head in the room turned toward him, and Dante noted with professional satisfaction that several faceswent pale when they saw the bloodstains on his clothes and the military-grade weapons in his hands.Good. They should be afraid.
Leo’s grip on Orion’s throat loosened, confusion replacing rage on his face. “Dante? What are you—how did you—”
“I’m here to collect what’s mine,” Dante replied, shrugging out of his suit jacket. The expensive fabric hit the floor, revealing a weapons harness underneath. He pulled off his tie, raising one rifle in the direction of the security team with his other hand.
Time to show them what Gensyn operatives are really capable of.
Orion’s scent took a moment to fully hit him, fear-spiked and desperate, mixed with the copper tang of blood and the acrid smell of stun weapons, but impossibly sweet now, like that marshmallow scent had been drizzled with honey. His body responded instantly—protective instincts flaring, territorial aggression flooding his system, every Alpha impulse screaming that his Omega was in danger.
Control it. Use it. Channel it.
“Sir,” one of the guards said, his voice tight with nerves. “You need to leave. This is a sanctioned corporate procedure.”
“Sanctioned by whom?” Dante asked. “I don’t recall Gensyn authorizing any medical interventions on our collaborative assets.”
Dr. Morrison stepped forward, his expression shifting from clinical detachment to something that might have been recognition. “You’re the corporate spy. The one who’s been interfering with our timeline.”
“Corporate consultant,” Dante corrected. “Though I suppose the distinction is academic at this point.”
The first guard moved, bringing his stun weapon up in a textbook defensive position. Dante was already inside his reach, the heavy rifle in his right hand swinging in a short, brutal arc that connected with the man’s temple. The guard staggered but didn’t go down, blood streaming from the gash above his ear.
The guard’s stun weapon crackled to life. Dante twisted away from the strike, but the guard was already recovering, pressing his advantage.
The second guard flanked left while the third came from the right, their movements coordinated and professional. Dante drove his knee into the first guard’s ribs, finally dropping him, but the second guard’s stun weapon caught him in the shoulder.
Lightning shot through his nervous system, his left arm going numb and useless. The rifle clattered to the floor as his grip failed, and he stumbled backward, vision blurring.
The third guard pressed forward, confident now that Dante was partially disabled. His stun weapon came up in a confident arc, aimed at Dante’s chest. Dante rolled to the side, grabbing the fallen rifle with his functioning hand and swinging it like a club at the guard’s ankles.
The man went down hard, his head striking the coffee table with a sickening crack. But the fourth guard—the one with the bleeding cheek—was already moving, his weapon crackling as he closed distance.
Leo cowered by the kitchen, his face drained of color, knuckles white where he gripped the counter. He could help, could grab a weapon, could do something useful. Instead, he was frozen, watching the fight like it was happening on a screen.
Useless. Absolutely fucking useless.
