“Oh? What’s his name?”
I hesitate, the words catching in my throat. This is the moment. Better to tell the truth right from the start. Because this is heading in a direction I don’t want to overthink anymore. I’ve already spent too much time wrestling with the implications of what Grey said to me earlier.
“You’re ours,”he had whispered, his voice low and possessive. I had looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of doubt, but all I saw was certainty. He had said it with such conviction as if the idea of me being theirs wasn’t just a statement but a promise. And the way he said it… the way he looked at me… it made me think—no, believe—that maybe they all meant it like that. That they really meant what I thought it would mean.
That I was theirs, and they could all be mine.
And if they did mean it like that? If they truly wanted me like that? I realized with startling clarity that I wanted it too. I wanted them—all of them.
“Theirnames are Oliver, Misha, and Grey.”
“They?” August’s tone sharpens. “Amelia, what’s going on?”
Even just speaking their names made me want to find them, so when I see a glow from a door slightly ajar down the hall, Itiptoe toward it, my heart quickening with each step. As I peek inside, I find Misha asleep in his chair. His head is lolled back at an awkward angle that’s sure to give him a crick in the neck come morning.
God, he’s adorable.
“Hold on a moment,” I whisper to August as I step into the office, intending to adjust Misha into a more comfortable position when the monitor before him suddenly captures my attention.
It’s a live feed, time-stamped and dated—my apartment.
What the?
Squeezing my phone between my cheek and shoulder, I free both hands to type on the keyboard. My fingers tremble as I navigate through the interface. I see every corner of my apartment displayed in stark detail across multiple screens. The cameras I installed myself for my AR project have turned my safe haven into a surveillance nightmare.
They’ve been watching me.
As I dig deeper, the extent of their invasion becomes horrifyingly clear. They have access to my health scans, infrared feeds, and motion detection logs. I check the backup and logs, and my breath catches in my throat as I realize they’ve been monitoring my every movefor weeks.
Right from the start.
My heart races as I delve deeper, each click revealing more damning evidence. Me on my birthday, sitting in my pajamas on my couch, eating pizza. Me talking to Jamie, feeding the fish.
My palms grow clammy as I scroll through countless hours of footage. There are folders upon folders about me. And they have access toallmy private data.
“Fuck,” I choke out.
“What’s wrong?” August’s voice filters through the phone, but I can barely register it, my attention consumed by thehorrific realization in front of me. My vision blurs with tears, a mixture of rage and hurt bubbling to the surface as I piece together the truth. Every time they knew just what to say, what to do, when to show up—it was all because they had been watching me. Monitoring my every move, every word, every intimate moment.
How could they do this to me? The men who said they loved me. The men I thought I could trust with my heart.
I believed them—every single word, every touch, every promise.
Stupid. So fucking stupid.
“Meelie?” August’s voice comes through the phone again, more insistent this time, but it feels like it’s coming from miles away. I clutch the edge of the desk, my knuckles turning white as I try to steady myself. My chest tightens, each breath coming out in short, panicked gasps.
Is this still part of the beta test?
Have I been nothing more than a data point in their project, a toy for them to manipulate and control?
But that means… my mind races, piecing together every moment, every conversation, every time they were there when I needed them. They knew about the AR.
They knew everything before I even told them.
A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead, my body trembling as the reality of the situation crashes over me like a tidal wave.
They wouldn’t.They couldn’t.
