He clung to my arm the moment I started to move.
No words. Just his fingers tightening around the sleeve of my shirt, his head tilting slightly—not in confusion, but quiet pleading.
My name wasn't spoken. Not even a whisper.
But I heard him anyway.
Nine looked at me like he already knew I was leaving. And hated it.
The others were expecting me. A debrief. A post-session discussion with the boss and the instructors. There was no avoiding it, no excuse that would sound plausible enough. If I refused to show up, I'd be flagged. Investigated. Maybe worse.
But standing there, watching Nine reach for me like I was the only thing tethering him to this world, made the air around me feel like ice.
I knelt in front of him, cupping his cheek.
He didn't lean into the touch.
Didn't pull away either.
His eyes darted between mine. Asking. Begging. Silently screaming.
Don't go.
Stay.
Please.
"I have to," I whispered, hating every syllable.
He didn't answer.
Just lowered his gaze. His fingers slipped from my sleeve, falling to his lap.
But then he moved again.
Crawled into my lap.
Pressed himself close, resting his head against my chest like a child seeking comfort. His arms wrapped around my waist, trembling faintly. He didn't sob. Didn't speak. Just breathed—shallow, panicked breaths that tried to settle.
I held him there, arms around his frail frame, stroking his back slowly.
His skin was warm beneath my palms. Still tender from the earlier session. My touch ghosted over the raised welts on his thighs. He didn't flinch. If anything, he pressed in closer.
And then, slowly, he reached for my hand.
Guided it lower.
I froze.
He wasn't forceful. Just… hopeful.
Hopeful in the worst possible way.
He didn't look up. Didn't speak. But his body told the story. He was offering. Willing.
Begging me to stay in the only way he knew they wouldn't punish him for.
This is all they've taught him, Nyx whispered, furious and aching. That his body is the only currency he has. That obedience means being used.
"No," I said, gently pulling my hand back.
He tensed immediately.
His eyes flicked up, unsure.
Then slowly, they fell again. And with them, his expression broke.
Rejection bloomed across his face like a bruise. No tears. No sound. Just a blankness that began to swallow whatever little light had been left in him.
He pulled back.
But not far. Just enough to curl into himself.
As if even that little hope—that his offer would be enough to make me stay—had been too much.
I caught his face in my hands again.
"Hey," I said softly. "You don't have to give anything to keep me."
His lower lip trembled. And then—barely perceptible—a nod.
But he didn't believe it. Not fully.
And why would he?
I stroked his hair again. Let my fingers tangle in the white silk of it. Kissed the top of his head. Breathed him in.
He smelled faintly like lavender and the boss's cologne—sharp, chemical, expensive. A scent that didn't belong on him. A scent that clung like ownership.
I held him there for a long moment, just breathing through the pain of it all. Letting the silence say the things we couldn't.
I thought about what had happened in the session—the way the others had looked at him. Touched him. Paraded him. The way the boss had smirked when he made me give the command. When Nine had obeyed me like he always did.
Be a good boy for the boss.
I'd said it. I'd played my part. And in doing so, I'd chipped away another piece of him.
Nyx had howled in my head afterward, threatening violence with every breath.
But I hadn't moved. Couldn't.
Because I still had to play their game.
Still had to walk out of that room and go to the debrief and smile with gritted teeth and say yes, he's responding well.
Even as Nine curled into me like I was his whole world.
I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.
"I'll come back," I whispered. "I promise."
His brows pulled slightly, just the tiniest crease between them. Doubt. Mistrust.
Not of me. Of the promise itself.
He'd been promised too many things by too many people who never came back.
Still, he didn't protest again. Just nodded once.
A quiet surrender.
I stood. Slowly. Carefully.
He didn't try to stop me again.
But he watched me go with that same look.
Like I was carrying what little safety he had left right out the door.
And in some ways… maybe I was.