Page 9 of The Sterling Acquisition
Orion shifted his weight, angling his body to maintain maximum distance while keeping his options open. He learned the hard way how to control whatever small pieces of territory he could claim. Every inchof space was a tactical advantage he wasn’t willing to concede without purpose.
“How long have you been picking locks?” Dante asked, running his fingers along the scratches around the door’s multiple locks. He shifted closer as he spoke, close enough that his scent began to fill the small space.
The question was so unexpected that Orion answered before he could think better of it. “Since I was twelve. My father was a locksmith before he got recruited as an SVI researcher,” Orion said, the bitter edge in his voice sharpening. “He taught me the basics before they killed him for asking too many questions about his work. Left me with nothing but his skills and his debt.”
Something flickered in Dante’s eyes—interest, maybe, or calculation. “Useful skill.”
“It has its moments.”
Dante eyed the scratches around the door frame. “How many escape attempts?”
“You keeping score for Leo?”
“I’m keeping score for myself.”
There was intensity in the way he said it that made Orion’s pulse quicken. Like this mattered to him personally. Orion’s skin prickled with awareness, heat spreading across the back of his neck despite his determination to remain unaffected.
“Seventeen successful escapes from this room,” Orion said. “Never made it out of the territory, though. Security’s tighter than it looks.”
“And you keep trying anyway.”
“What else am I going to do? Sit here and accept this bullshit?” Orion balled his fists at his sides, ready for a fight.
“Some would.”
“Some aren’t me.”
Dante turned to look at him directly, and Orion felt that same electric jolt from the courtyard.
Orion shifted toward the corner, maintaining distance while ensuring he could still see both Dante and the door. A reflexive defense pattern he developed during months of Leo’s “training sessions”, which was just corporate code for beatings.
Dante was close enough now that Orion could see the thin lines around his eyes, and could smell the complex layers of his scent more clearly—black tea and cherries. The room felt ten degrees warmer, the air thicker and harder to breathe.
“No,” Dante said, his voice lower now that he didn’t need to project across the room. “They’re not.”
The silence stretched between them, charged with tension Orion couldn’t quite name. This wasn’t how these conversations usually went. Alphas who came to assess him wanted to test his compliance, his submission, his willingness to fold. This one seemed more interested in understanding him.
Dante took another step closer, ostensibly to examine the scratch marks Orion left on the wall during one of his more frustrated moments. But the movement brought him within arm’s reach, close enough that Orion could feel the warmth radiating from his body.
“Impressive dedication,” Dante murmured, tracing one of the deeper gouges with his fingertip. “How long did this take?”
“Three hours,” Orion replied, watching the Alpha’s face. “Leo had just explained his five-year plan for ‘behavioral conditioning.’ I needed to work off some energy.”
“Understandable.” Dante’s lips curved. “I’ve sat through enough development seminars to appreciate the urge.”
Was that... was that a joke? From a suit Alpha, who was here to assess him like livestock?
“So what happens now?” Orion asked. “You report back to Leo that I’m unbreakable and he should cut his losses? Or do you have some revolutionary new approach to asset management?”
“What do you want to happen?” Dante asked, and as he spoke, he shifted again.
Orion held his ground, refusing to be backed further into the corner. The small hairs at the nape of his neck stood up, his body humming with the competing instincts to fight or run. “What kind of consultation is this?”
“The honest kind.” Dante stopped just outside of Orion’s personal space, close enough that Orion had to tilt his head back to maintain eye contact. Close enough that the Alpha’s scent was almost overwhelming and had to fight the urge to lean up and scent him.
Orion studied the Alpha’s face, looking for deception, manipulation, or the particular kind of cruelty he’d learned to expect. What he found instead was respect. And interest. The kind of focused attention that made him feel like he was being catalogued in ways that had nothing to do with a consultation on asset management.
“I want out,” Orion said. “I want Leo’s hands off me, and I want to walk out of here without looking back.”
