Page 35 of Galactic Sentinels, Vol. 1 (Chronicles of Pherebos #1)

We step into the large room we’ve been assigned. There’s a single bed facing a wide bay window that overlooks the sea, and a small adjoining washroom.

As soon as the door closes behind us, Pherebos grabs my arm and pushes me gently but firmly against the wall. His movements are sudden, theatrical—too exaggerated to be real. His face is close to mine, his expression intense.

“No!” I gasp, startled.

“Yes, you are,” he growls, loud enough for any hidden microphones to pick up. “You’re mine now, and I intend to enjoy every bit of my wild purchase.”

“Get away from me!” I snap. “You disgust me! You sold out your own people—just like that! Who does that?”

“What do you care?” he shoots back. “You didn’t know them.”

His voice is sharp, but then, so quietly I almost miss it, he leans in and whispers near my ear:

“I didn’t do any of that.”

I freeze. “What did you say?”

He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, his voice louder again. “I said Asgarne’s fate isn’t your concern. You’re mine now, and I’ll do what I want.”

But his eyes say something else entirely.

He grabs me and lifts me off the ground, carrying me toward the bed. I let out a startled sound, more from surprise than fear. He sets me down gently, but his gaze remains intense—hungry, but not in the way it might seem to an outside observer.

He climbs onto the bed beside me, pinning my wrists above my head as I struggle, half-heartedly, to push him off.

“Stop fighting,” he growls, just loud enough for the bugs to catch. But then, in a breathless whisper, he adds, “My Faksaya… keep going. Be loud. We’re being watched.”

I stare at him, completely lost. What is going on? Does he really think we’re being watched? It sounds like Noviosk has surveillance all over his complex. But why is Pherebos telling me this now?

“You see,” he says in a firm voice, loud enough for anyone listening, “you can’t escape me. So stop struggling.”

Naturally, I do the opposite. I kick, I push, I shout in protest.

“It’s perfect,” he murmurs, barely audible. “I swear, I didn’t do any of the things they said. My Faksaya… trust me, my love.”

His voice is so soft, so different from the one he uses when he’s performing for the bugs.

I freeze, torn between instinct and reason.

I want to believe him. I really do. But my mind keeps flashing back to every time I’ve been betrayed.

Every man who’s ever claimed to care about me has ended up using me.

And how can I trust him now, when Noviosk confirmed every one of his supposed crimes ?

Pherebos keeps on torturing me with his kisses and caresses. He's got one hand free now and is doing all these things to me that he knows I like.

I can't resist him, and I'm horrified by the situation, but I can't help but start sobbing softly.

‘’Don't hold back your sobs. I want them to believe it!’’ he says in my ear.

I'm naturally drawn to Pherebos when he lies on top of me, pretending to be in love. I have no idea where our observers are, but only he and I know what's really going on. Or, rather, what isn't happening.

Pherebos didn't make me feel this embarrassed. He's happy to play along for Noviosk and his crew.

What if he was telling the truth? What if it's all a horrible misunderstanding? I don't have any answers, but the apologetic look on his face as he keeps up this unhealthy charade promises to provide me with some ASAP.

Quickly, he lets out a fake grunt and stops moving.

Then he pretends to zip up his pants, just seconds before someone opens the door.

‘’Hey, why don't you just knock and wait for me to let you know it's OK to come in?’’ he asks.

He stands up and drapes the tunic over me, hiding my body from the two guards who are openly ogling me. The tears on my face don't seem to bother them.

‘’Here’s your bag. We checked everything inside. No weapons, but some weird stuff,’’ the guard says, holding something up. ‘’Like this!’ ’

‘’That?’’ Pherebos replies. ‘’It’s a water purifier. I’m keeping it—it wasn’t part of my deal with Noviosk.’’

‘’And this?’’ the guard asks, pulling out a small cylindrical tube, about the size of a finger.

‘’A mini light beam. Always handy. And that big pencil you’re holding? I’m sure even you know what a pencil is.’’

“Ugh, it stinks!” the second guard says, sniffing a small sealed flask. “What is this?”

“A perfume. For your sister, maybe?” Pherebos shoots back.

“You messing with me?”

“No. But maybe I should be.”

The first guard bristles, clearly offended by Pherebos’s attitude.

“Let it go,” his partner mutters. “He’s Noviosk’s guest.” He places the bag and its contents on the bed. “It’s all yours,” he adds to Pherebos. “Need anything else?”

“Yes. I want that restraining collar removed. She’s not your slave anymore—she’s mine.”

“Her seller, Bully, already left Vagantu with some of his friends. If he didn’t give the order before leaving, he probably forgot. We’ll take it off tomorrow. No rush.”

Pherebos looks visibly annoyed. He opens his mouth to argue, then thinks better of it and stays silent.

The guard hesitates. “Anything else?” he asks as he starts to leave.

“Yes,” Pherebos says sharply. “I don’t want to be watched while I enjoy what I paid for. I paid a high price—I’m not sharing the experience. So tell me where the cameras are.”

“I don’t think Noviosk would—” the guard begins, but his eyes flick briefly to the upper left corner of the room, just above the bed.

“Got it,” Pherebos cuts in. “I’ll disable them myself. And tell your master—if he wants to watch, he’ll have to negotiate that price with me directly. Oh, and while you’re at it, bring a proper outfit for my slave. From now on, I'm the only one who gets to enjoy her nudity!”

We’re finally alone.

I feel a little awkward and glance away, not sure what to say or do. But Pherebos doesn’t seem to notice—he’s focused on something else entirely.

He crosses the room and stops in the corner, fingers brushing the wall. Then, with practiced care, he peels off a tiny pellet—barely an eighth of an inch wide. He folds it between his fingers, then starts scanning the room like he’s on a mission.

He checks every corner, even crouches down to look under the bed. A moment later, he finds another one, tucked into the frame of the bay window.

After a few more minutes of silent searching, he lets out a long, heavy sigh.

“I think we’re alone now,” he says, but his voice doesn’t sound all that convinced. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he planted some in the bathroom too.

I stay quiet. I don’t know what to think.

He comes over and sits beside me on the bed .

“My Faskaya, I’m sorry about all of this.” Why did you run from me?

‘’You were going to sell me!’’ I shoot back.

“If I wanted to sell you, do you really think I’d come all the way here to buy you back? I don’t know what you think you heard, but you’ve got it all wrong.” He pauses. “Come on. Let’s get in the shower. We can talk there—no one will be listening.”

I hesitate. I still don’t know if I trust him. There’s the gentle, caring Pherebos… and then there’s the cunning smuggler. Which one is real?

But I want to hear him out. So I follow him to the bathroom.