The glass wall might as well have been a guillotine.
Nine stood on the arena floor, white-clad and barefoot, his pale hair catching the harsh lights like threads of spun frost. The man beside him—stocky, smirking, gloved fingers flexing like he was getting ready to play—stood less than three feet away, practically vibrating with anticipation.
He didn't matter.
Only Nine did.
And Nine was staring up at me.
Confused.
Expectant.
Still trusting me with that wide-eyed, open expression that made my stomach twist.
Behind me, the boss stood at ease, hands clasped behind his back, his posture casual like this was nothing more than a business meeting. One where people's lives—and souls—were assets to be traded. Instructors flanked the room like statues, their eyes gleaming, silently judging.
"A command, Rhea," the boss said, tone light. "Let's see how well he listens."
Nyx was already growling inside my skull. Don't do it. Don't. We can take them. We can—
But we couldn't.
Not here. Not now.
Not with Nine in the room, vulnerable, exposed.
If I did nothing—if I refused—they'd test him themselves.
And they wouldn't be gentle.
They wouldn't be clean.
They'd push until something inside him broke.
And maybe I was doing that too.
But at least I could pretend there was a reason.
At least I could try to leave him something to hold onto.
So I opened my mouth.
And destroyed another piece of myself.
"Nine."
His head lifted at the sound of my voice.
He straightened slightly. Alert. Waiting.
"Kneel," I said, voice flat. "And lick his boots."
He blinked.
The confusion in his face was immediate—subtle, but sharp. That tiny wrinkle between his brows. That slow shift in posture like he wasn't sure he'd heard me right. Like maybe this was a test. Maybe he was misunderstanding.
But then—he obeyed.
He always obeyed.
Because he'd been taught that I was safety.
He dropped to his knees with a soft sound that echoed too loudly in the room.
And he leaned forward.
I couldn't watch more than that.
Because I didn't need to see what he did.
I could feel the weight of it.
The shame. The confusion. The slow unraveling of something sacred.
His eyes weren't blank.
They weren't mechanical.
They were hurt.
Not because of what was happening.
But because I had told him to do it.
Behind me, the boss let out a breath of approval. "Remarkable. Absolutely remarkable. No hesitation. Even in the presence of stimuli designed to provoke resistance. That's deeper than loyalty—that's neural reprogramming."
My spine locked into place.
I kept my arms at my sides, nails digging into my palms.
Nyx snarled. You're letting him be humiliated. He doesn't understand why. He thinks this is love. He thinks—
"I want to push it further," the boss said suddenly. "Let's see how much autonomy he's surrendered."
I knew what was coming.
"Make him beg," the boss said. "Not just submit. I want vocal compliance. Clear demonstration of willing subjugation."
"No," I said before I could stop myself.
It slipped out—bare, raw.
A crack in the mask.
The boss didn't react.
Didn't frown.
Didn't scold.
He just smiled.
"Rhea," he said lightly. "He's your omega, yes? Your bond is the one thing that makes him truly manageable. Use it."
I stood very still.
Nyx was clawing at the edges of me.
Don't say it. Don't you dare say it.
But I already had.
Because I was no longer a person.
I was a handler.
A tool.
A leash.
"Nine," I said, voice low.
He looked up again.
Eyes glassy. Waiting.
"Tell him you want him to hurt you."
The silence that followed was deafening.
I could see it—see the way the words hit him, seeped through the cracks of his confusion.
And still—
"Please," Nine whispered. "Please… hurt me."
My lungs stopped working.
The boss clapped me on the back like I'd just given a flawless presentation.
"Excellent," he said brightly. "Absolutely excellent. You've exceeded expectations. He's yours, all right—and perfectly pliant. That's going to be useful."
The instructors murmured in agreement behind us.
I didn't turn around.
Couldn't.
Because I was releasing pheromones now. Not out of control. Not from instinct.
Deliberately.
Purposefully.
Saturated in love.
Love for the boy kneeling on that floor.
Love sharp enough to bleed.
Thick enough that any wolf in the room would've drowned in it.
But there were no wolves here.
Only me.
Only Nine.
And I knew—knew—he would smell it.
That even through his confusion and pain, through the sting of betrayal and the echo of my command, he'd feel it. That something in his shattered body would still recognize what the air was whispering.
I love you.
I'm sorry.
Hold on.
Because I couldn't say it.
Not in front of them.
Not with the boss watching me like a test subject.
He turned to me with a smirk, unaware of what hung between us like invisible thread.
"I knew you were the right choice, Rhea. Not just because of the bond. Because you understand power. You know how to use it. The others flinch. You—" He smiled wider. "—you command."
I didn't reply.
Didn't smile.
Didn't blink.
My eyes were still locked on Nine.
He hadn't moved.
Still on his knees.
Still not understanding.
Still obedient.
Because I had asked him to be.
And because of that—
He would forgive me.
Even if he shouldn't.
Even if it tore him apart.
Even if it killed something vital inside him.
He would still wait for me.
Still reach for me.
Still believe I was his safe place.
And that was why I had to keep doing this.
Had to keep smiling when they praised me.
Had to keep nodding when they planned more.
Because as long as they thought I was on their side—
They'd let him live.
And maybe—maybe—I could find a way to bring him back to himself.
Eventually.
If there was anything left to save.