I open the folder. The pages are thick, the ink so black it looks wet. There are subheadings: HUNTER RESPONSIBILITIES, TARGET ACQUISITION, COLLATERAL DAMAGE, MATERNAL RIGHTS.
There it is, spelled out in a font designed to mimic the handwriting of some dead patriarch:
Hunter will engage Runner in accordance with Board rules and local custom. Upon successful completion of Hunt, Runner will be retained for reproductive purposes as outlined in Section 4 in the event pregnancy is not achieved within the first four months proceeding successful claiming. All offspring aresubject to legacy review and the firstborn will be surrendered in exchange for a seat.
Rhett leans over to look. “You guys are so fucked.”
Steele ignores him. “You will notice,” he says, “that Section 5 has been updated to reflect the current situation. The Marcus line is unique. It must be preserved at all costs and as such we have amended Section 4 slightly.”
I flip to Section 5. The first line stops me.
Hunter and Target will produce a viable heir within two years of contract execution. Failure to do so will result in Board intervention, up to and including substitution of genetic material as necessary.
I don’t blink. I just smile, as if the threat is a compliment.
Colton reaches for the folder. I let him take it. He reads and passes it around.
“Is this what you want?” Bam laughs. “You want him to fuck your daughter until she splits in half. What? You want to watch, too?”
A vein pulses at the edge of Marcus’s jaw, but he doesn’t respond.
Steele’s eyes never leave me. “We want what’s best for the institution. For the future.”
Bam laughs. “You want power. And you think our blood will get you there.”
Steele raises his chin a millimeter. “Your blood. Our blood. It’s all the same in the end.”
I take the pen and grab the contract. I hold it between my thumb and index, letting the weight settle. I sign with my full name—JULIAN ELLIOT ROTH—because I want them to know exactly who will come for them when this is over.
I set the pen down.
Steele closes the folder, latching it with a snap.
“There is one more item,” he says. “A clause added at the last minute, by unanimous consent.”
“What the fuck now?” I sigh.
“We rather enjoyed the show Isolde and Rhett put on. We are mandating a repeat. You will claim her in front of us.”
I look at Marcus. This is his daughter, his line, his sacrifice. He is so empty it almost impresses me.
I say, “You understand you will be watching her get fucked in front of you, right?”
Marcus nods.
Damn, what a sick fuck.
Steele stands. The meeting is over.
We stand as one, the four of us. The Board watches, silent, as we file out.
In the hallway, Rhett claps my shoulder. “Well, that was fucked.”
“Which part?” I ask.
“All of it. But especially the part where they act like they’re the ones in control.”
Bam cracks his knuckles. “I’d like to see them try and take my kid one day.”
