“That’s insane, Cade! That’s a complete violation of my privacy.”
“We've been over this. Privacy is a privilege you no longer have. You lost that when you ran.”
I scoffed. “This is a new level of control, even for you. You can’t seriously think this is okay.”
“I do,” he said simply.
“So what, you’re just going to watch me all the time?”
“Yes.”
I threw my hands up. “Fantastic. Love being the zoo exhibit you all get to monitor.”
“You can call it whatever you want,” he said calmly. “It keeps you safe.”
“Safe?” I snapped. “You mean controlled.”
His eyes met mine, steady and cold. “Sometimes those are the same thing, especially when you have the self-preservation of a lemming.”
I opened my mouth to argue but stopped when he closed the laptop and tucked it under his arm again.
“Where are you going?” I demanded.
“Debrief,” he said, pausing in the hallway. “Stay put. And remember, I can still see you.”
My glare followed him down the hall until his door clicked shut. Even with him gone, I could feel the cameras watching.
Hours crawled by.
I flipped through the TV channels, but everything felt dull. Arca news. Reruns of government-approved sitcoms. Nothing that didn’t make my brain feel like it was slowlymelting.
I picked up my guitar and strummed aimlessly, hoping muscle memory would carry me somewhere better. It didn’t. The instrument felt heavier than it should have, as if it belonged to a version of me that no longer existed. Music had been my escape once. My joy. Now it just reminded me of what I had lost.
Alex and I used to do this together. We would spend hours on the floor, writing lyrics and melodies, feeding off each other’s excitement, convinced every half-finished song was something special. Back then, music felt like a lifeline. Now it was a painful reminder. I set the guitar down and let silence take over.
Eventually, I wandered over to the bookshelf. Most of the books were thick military manuals, outdated training guides, or dry technical reports. Definitely not light reading.
I skimmed the spines with little hope until something half-buried near the bottom caught my eye. It was small and worn, with bent corners, and a cover faded from use. I pulled it free and brushed off a thin layer of dust.
A fantasy novel!
The cover showed a woman holding a sword, with a dragon coiled behind her. The title being mostly rubbed away didn’t matter because the book was the first thing I’d seen in weeks that fit my genre preference.
I read it until Ryker and Talon finally got back from patrol. I hadn’t expected Ryker to tackle me onto the couch, affectionate like he used to be. The sudden contact caught me off guard, but instead of irritation, a wave of relief hit me. The last few days without their touch or physical closeness had left me restless. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed their hands on me until that moment. My omega instincts surged.
Then Talon sauntered in behind Ryker, smelling like a steak dinner. The scent hit before I could process where it wascoming from. A rich, metallic, and mouthwatering fragrance. When he told me it was dead direworg, my stomach twisted. It should have disgusted me. Instead, I was hungry.
Another reminder that I wasn’t fully human anymore.
They hurried down the hall to clean themselves up, leaving me to worry about the surprise Ryker had enthusiastically mentioned. His eyes had a mischievous sparkle that told me I wouldn't enjoy it one bit.
As I fretted, wondering what they had planned, Ryker's laughter echoed from the bathroom. Over the sound of running water, I could just barely hear his and Talon's muffled voices.
They were both there.
In the shower.
Together.
