My bladder released. Sudden, shameful warmth spreading through tactical pants. Regression complete, body returning to earliest training when bodily functions weren't under my control.
"Oh, sweetheart." No disgust in Gabriel's voice. Just sympathy. "It's okay. That's perfectly normal given the stress levels. We'll get you cleaned up."
But first he had to finish breaking me down. Or building me back. I couldn't tell anymore, sedatives and conditioning making everything soft and horrible.
"The facility you thought was mine? Institute safe house. The intelligence Nathan gathered? Fed to him by handlers. Every step of your journey perfectly orchestrated to lead you here, where retrieval teams were waiting."
I was sobbing again. Or still. Time had gone strange, circular. How long had I been in the chair? Minutes? Hours? The lullaby played on repeat, mixing with Gabriel's voice until I couldn't separate melody from truth.
"But I found you first." His lips pressed against my forehead, blessing or brand. "My clever girl, stronger than they expected. You actually made it here before their teams were fully in position. Always exceeding expectations, aren't you?"
My stomach cramped. Nausea rising fast, body rejecting everything—food, reality, the careful structures I'd built to survive. Gabriel recognized the signs, turning my head just as vomit forced its way past the gag. Mostly bile, burning and shameful, running down my chin.
"Shh. You're okay. Just your system purging the chemicals he's been feeding you." He produced a cloth, cleaning my face with practiced efficiency. "Probably benzodiazepines to keep you compliant. Maybe some memory blockers to help implant false narratives. We'll run full toxicology once you're stable."
Nothing made sense. Everything made terrible sense. The gaps in my memory. The way certain things felt fuzzy, dreamlike. How easily I'd trusted Nathan despite all my conditioning screaming warnings.
"I'm so sorry." Gabriel's voice cracked. Actually cracked, emotion breaking through clinical distance. "This is my fault. I should have gotten to you sooner. Should have protected you better. My perfect girl, subjected to that monster's manipulations because I failed."
He released the gag, pulling it free with careful hands. I gasped, jaw aching, still tasting bile and shame.
"He said he loved me." The words came out small, broken. "Said we'd have a life after. Said—"
"I know. That's part of his method." Gabriel's thumb traced my lips, gathering spit and tears. "He identifies what the asset needs to hear, becomes that. You needed someone who saw you as more than conditioning. So that's what he showed you."
"But you made me need that!" Sudden fury cutting through sedatives. "You broke me until I couldn't exist without external validation! Everything I am is because of what you—"
"Yes." Simple agreement, no deflection. "I shaped you. Trained you. Built you into something extraordinary. And then I lost you to someone who perverted that training for profit."
He moved lower, hands checking my restraints but lingering. The chair had put me in optimal position—vulnerable, exposed, accessible. My body recognized the positioning, responded despite everything.
"You're still mine." His teeth found the soft skin of my inner thigh, biting down hard enough to break skin. I cried out—pain and recognition and horrible want all mixed together. "Whatever he did, whatever lies he told, you're still my creation. My perfect girl. Mine."
Blood welled from the bite. He pressed his hand to it, leaving a print on my thigh like signing his work. The pain felt real in a way nothing else did, cutting through chemicals and confusion to find truth in damage.
"I don't know what's real anymore." Admission torn from somewhere deeper than conditioning.
"I know." He stood, my blood on his mouth making him look wild. Dangerous.Mine. "But we'll figure it out together. Deprogram what he's done. Rebuild what was broken. I'll make you perfect again, sweetheart. I promise."
"I don't want to be perfect. I want to be free."
"Free?" He smiled, sad and fond and terrible. "Oh, my darling girl. Freedom is just another cage. But I'll give you the prettiest one possible."
The sedatives were pulling me under properly now. Everything going distant, floaty. The last thing I saw clearly was Gabriel checking monitors, adjusting IV lines I hadn't noticed going in.
"Rest now." His voice followed me down into chemical darkness. "When you wake up, we'll start fixing what he broke. Making you mine again. My perfect Bunny, finally home where you belong."
I wanted to protest. Wanted to scream. Wanted to find Nathan and demand truth.
But the chair knew my rhythms. The lullaby knew my bones. And Gabriel's hands knew every way to take me apart.
The darkness swallowed me whole, and my last coherent thought was that I didn't know which monster to believe anymore.
Or which one I'd rather be eaten by.
23
Reconditioning
