Page 43 of Damsel in Disguise

I hate that I notice the gentle slope of her nose, the delicate swell of her breasts over the rim of the bra, the softness of her skin, and the flat expanse of her stomach.

I hate that I notice the way her lashes tremble, as if she’s fighting her way back to the surface.

I despise that my control, something I’ve spent years refining like a fine art, feels less absolute in this room.

16. CONTAINED

alistair

I leave the private ward sealed behind my authorization and take the elevator alone. Before leaving, I personally assigned Dr. Voss, Dr. Morrow, and Dr. Khatri to their designated tasks.

My phone vibrates once in my pocket—confirmation pings cascading through Dominion channels already trying to reassert control.

The elevator dings open at the boardroom level, and I step out into the observation deck without slowing. The glass wall at the far end darkens as I approach, reflective coating engaging, the Dominion deciding that the meeting won’t wait.

They’re not here in person today. That alone tells me this is damage control, not deliberation. I press my palm to the embedded panel beside the glass and initiate the secure call sequence. The reflective surface ripples once before stabilizing, then fractures into light.

Within moments, three silhouettes begin to resolve imperfectly in the glass. Their holographic structures remain subtly distorted.

Behind them, faintly visible through secondary partitions, the Council takes shape—blurred figures stationed at consoles and terminals, operational heads who manage recruitment, cover narratives, logistics, and erasure. They don’t speak unless invited.

I start before they can. “Ariella Keinston. Heiress to CynoTech’s executive branch. This’ll complicate public erasure. You initiated elimination protocol without clearance and reclassified her as biological salvage.”

“She was surveilling you,” Luca counters, his silver mask catching the ambient light. “Pattern analysis crossed restricted thresholds.”

“She was under observation by me,” I lie smoothly, correcting him without raising my voice.

Luca’s gold mask tilts slightly. “Your message requested non-interference. Our analysts determined delay increased exposure probability beyond acceptable margins.”

“She’s a Keinston,” my voice carries a silent warning. “CynoTech Group doesn’t tolerate interfering with their heirs. This family will dig and leave nothing less than bloodshed.”

“Isn’t that wonderful? More dead bodies. More disposable experimental objects,” Victor says, a thin excitement threading through his tone.

That earns me the Crown’s attention.

He does not acknowledge Victor, but me. “Explain.”

“Dead assets invite questions,” I say. “Missing heirs invite investigations. Both create pressure vectors we don’t control. What you brought me instead is leverage, if handled correctly.”

Victor’s tone sharpens. “Are you trying to sabotage to initiate experimenting on her?”

Correction: I don’t want to perform any inhumane experiments on her.

“I’m asserting jurisdiction,” I reply calmly. “She falls under my anomaly scope. She was observing my operational patterns, and now entangled with my iteration integrity. More importantly, she’s my student.”

“And you’re asking us to let her go?” Luca says not as a question but a statement.

“I’m asking you to do what the Council exists to do,” I say calmly. “Control the narrative before it metastasizes.”

“How?” Luca asks.

Before I answer, I let my gaze move between them. “I need to know whether you intend to classify her as collateral or as an active variable. Am I mitigating a mistake, or am I cleaning up an order that still stands?”

“That’s none of your concern—”

The Crown cuts over him without raising his voice. “Jurisdiction determines liability, and liability needs discretion. Continue, Hertley. Let’s hear your thoughts.”

He doesn’t rescind the protocol. He doesn’t confirm it either. But he gives me exactly what I require—a solid ground to stand on.