I wasn't expecting praise.
Especially not from one of the higher-ranking handlers, the ones who usually only spoke to me when something had gone wrong. But today, they found me just after breakfast, intercepting me on my way to Nine's quarters like they'd been waiting.
"You've made remarkable progress with Hybrid 009," the man said, clipboard tucked under his arm like a permanent fixture. His tone was smooth. Pleased. That alone set my nerves on edge.
I nodded, guarded. "He's responding well to emotional consistency."
"Responding?" The man chuckled. "You've made him downright adorable."
My stomach turned.
He kept talking, oblivious. "He used to flinch from any human contact. Now he's practically purring. Sitting in laps. Asking for affection."
It wasn't a compliment.
It was a reminder. That even now, even with every inch of trust I built, they still saw him as an outcome. A result. A product with new features they could flaunt.
"He's more compliant than we expected at this stage," the handler continued. "Management is impressed. The boss in particular."
That made me go still.
"He wants to observe the next session in person," the man added. "Privately. No mirrors. No feeds. Just him. And you. And the hybrid."
I kept my face blank.
But Nyx stirred.
No, she hissed. No, no, no—
I forced my voice calm. "Has he given a reason?"
"He likes to see what he owns," the man said casually, then smiled like it was nothing. "He's very interested in seeing how you've softened the edges."
I didn't speak.
Didn't trust myself to.
"Two days," the handler said. "You'll receive formal notice this evening."
He walked away before I could respond.
And I stood there, pulse thudding in my ears, trying to quiet the scream building in my chest.
The comments didn't stop there.
They followed me down hallways. Whispered in the break rooms. Shared between instructors like inside jokes.
"Heard 009's practically housebroken now."
"Did you see how he followed her out of the training room yesterday? Like a little lapdog."
"I'd love to get a few hours alone with him. See just how well she's trained those pretty little manners."
I kept walking. Kept my eyes down. Kept my hands from shaking only by digging my nails into my palms until I bled.
They didn't know.
They didn't care.
He was beautiful. So he must be willing. He was compliant. So he must enjoy it. He asked for comfort. So he must want to be used.
That was the logic of this place.
Not just cruelty.
Justification.
Excuses wrapped in science. Desire dressed up as ownership.
And Nine—sweet, soft Nine—had no idea what they were really saying.
When I entered the rec wing later that afternoon, two instructors were talking in the corner. Loud enough for me to hear. Loud enough that they wanted me to.
"Wonder if she's let him sleep in her bed yet."
"Please, she probably gets off to the way he begs for pets. Girl's got taste—if I had a toy like that, I'd never leave my quarters."
Laughter.
I didn't respond.
Didn't break stride.
But Nyx was pacing in my skull, claws dragging against my mind.
I want their throats, she snarled. I want their eyes. I want them to see what they've made.
"Not yet," I muttered.
Because I couldn't afford a war.
Not yet.
That night, the formal notice arrived. Digital. Clinical. Cold.
You are instructed to prepare Hybrid 009 for a private review session scheduled in seventy-two hours. The session will be supervised directly by the Project Director. You are expected to demonstrate significant behavioral improvement, especially in obedience, response to touch, and emotional pliability. Physical readiness is assumed.
Physical readiness.
The words burned.
As if he was being prepped for auction.
As if his feelings didn't matter.
As if mine didn't.
I stared at the message for a long time.
Then deleted it.
And went to find him.
Because I needed to see something soft again.
Something real.
Something mine.