I paced the floor of my room like a caged animal.
The lights were dim. The walls too close. The silence too sharp.
Nyx was restless.
Let me out, she growled. Let me see him. Let me feel him.
I pressed my fingers to my temples. "We can't. Not yet."
He thinks you don't want him. He thinks he's nothing. And we're just waiting? We're just sitting here like that's fine?
My hands trembled.
"We'll make it right. But if I go now, if I push—"
He's forgetting you, she hissed. *He's forgetting us."
I sat on the edge of the bed, unable to breathe through the gnawing ache in my chest.
Nyx was pacing behind my ribs, wild and desperate.
And I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold her back.
The room was too quiet. Too still. I could hear the faint hum of the ventilation, the occasional tap of water dripping from the bathroom sink. Each sound scraped across my nerves.
I hadn't eaten.
I hadn't slept.
All I'd done was feel.
And that was the problem.
Because I could feel Nine's absence like it was carved into my skin. I could feel his confusion, his guilt, his pain.
And I couldn't do anything about it.
He's waiting for us, Nyx whispered. He's lost and alone and we're just— she snarled. This isn't what mates do. This isn't what we do.
I stood abruptly, heart pounding.
"No," I said. "It's not."
I walked to the wall panel and stared at the reflection in the polished glass. My eyes looked too tired. My mouth was set in a line that hadn't relaxed in days.
"This place is poison," I muttered. "And I let it convince me that silence was survival."
Then speak, Nyx urged. Do something.
I turned back to the room and looked at the chair where I'd left the report I was supposed to submit. The one detailing progress on my new assignment. The one I hadn't written a single word of.
Because she didn't matter.
Not like he did.
He was more than a project. More than an asset.
He was mine.
And they were destroying him.
Every second I spent sitting here was a second he might be locked in another punishment cell. Might be forced into another "session." Might be forgetting who he was before they started ripping it out of him again.
Go, Nyx said.
I walked to the door. Paused. My hand hovered over the lock.
"They'll make it worse for him," I whispered.
If we wait, there won't be anything left of him to protect, she said. Do you really want to keep pretending you can fix this from the sidelines?
I let out a sharp breath and slammed my fist into the wall beside the console. The pain jolted through me like a jolt of lightning.
Then I straightened.
"I'm done waiting," I said.
My reflection met my gaze again—harder this time. Clearer.
I didn't care about the system. About the chain of command. About pretending to be the obedient handler who played by the rules while everything rotted beneath the surface.
They wanted me to be quiet. Compliant. Just like they wanted him to be.
But I wasn't.
Not anymore.
He's ours, Nyx growled. We claim what's ours.
I keyed the door open and stepped into the hall.
The guards looked up as I passed.
I didn't stop. Didn't ask permission.
I walked straight to the top level.
To the wing where no one went without being summoned.
To the office behind the reinforced door.
Where the boss sat.
The one who owned this facility.
The one who ordered Nine's creation.
The one who held the chain around all of our throats.
I stopped outside the door.
And without giving myself another moment to hesitate—
I hit the buzzer.
"Fuck it," I said.
And waited to be let in.