I knew something was wrong the moment they knocked.
Not a sharp, demanding bang. No shouting. No threat. Just two firm taps on the door, precise and patient.
That was worse.
Monsters kicked in doors.
Powerful men just asked.
Nine stirred from where he was curled against my side. His eyes opened slowly, violet and trusting, and my chest ached with the force of what we'd become. He reached for me instinctively, but I was already sliding off the bed.
Stay, I whispered through the bond.
He frowned, sitting up. Where are you going?
I reached for my uniform jacket, not looking back. The boss wants to talk. It's about the last shipment.
His bond-thread tightened in anxiety. Come back.
I will.
I pressed a kiss to his forehead—soft, grounding, final. Then crossed the room and opened the door.
The man waiting on the other side didn't speak. He just gave a small nod and turned. Expecting me to follow.
I did.
The walk to the upper floor felt longer than it had any right to.
Every step echoed too sharply in the empty corridors. Every turn brought me closer to the office no one entered without being summoned. And once summoned, never without consequence.
I kept my expression blank.
I kept my posture perfect.
I kept my claws retracted and Nyx silent.
Barely.
This is about the hybrid, I thought. It has to be.
The third crate. The one no one had been told about. The one they'd all pretended not to open, even after the ambush. Even after the thing inside nearly woke.
I reached the door and knocked once.
A voice from within: "Enter."
He was seated behind his desk, half-turned toward the window. A drink in his hand. His posture deceptively casual. The office was too bright, too neat, too wrong.
"You wanted to see me," I said.
He turned his head slowly. Smiled faintly.
"Yes, Rhea. Sit."
I obeyed. Quiet. Steady.
"The last shipment," he began. "I've received the report."
I didn't blink. "And?"
"You lost two men to an ambush. You were delayed seven days. The crates were eventually delivered intact."
"That's correct."
He tilted his head. "Tell me. What do you think the shipment was really about?"
I hesitated. Just for a second.
"Drugs," I said. "And something classified. You never told us what was in the third crate."
A pause.
Then—he smiled. "You're honest."
I didn't reply.
"You see," he continued, swirling his drink, "that particular crate was not meant to be opened. Not by you. Not by anyone but the end recipient. And yet…"
My spine stiffened.
He leaned forward, voice dropping. "You saw it, didn't you?"
I didn't move.
He studied me, amused. "The others would've panicked. But you didn't. You stayed the course. You delivered it."
I still didn't speak.
"Good," he said at last. "That's exactly the kind of loyalty I reward."
The chill in my stomach didn't fade.
"I want you to supervise the return shipment," he said. "We'll be moving another one soon. Another of its kind."
"Another hybrid?"
His eyes gleamed. "Not just a hybrid, Rhea. A prototype. Something that will change everything."
I nodded, keeping my expression flat.
Get out of here, Nyx whispered. Get out, get back to him—
"You'll take a new team," the boss added. "And I'll want regular updates."
"Understood."
He stood slowly and came around the desk. "And one more thing."
I braced.
"If anything goes wrong," he said softly, "I'll assume it was you."
Then he smiled again.
Dismissed.