Page 127 of The Sterling Acquisition

Leo’s scent. Getting closer.

Orion’s lips pulled back from his teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile.Let him come.

A burst of automatic fire stitched across the rocks above his head, forcing him lower. When he looked up, three SVI operatives were bounding toward him in coordinated rushes—one firing, two moving, military precision.

Shit.

“Dante!” He pointed toward the advancing team, and Dante’s rifle swung to track them. The lead operative’s head snapped back in a red mist, but the other two kept coming, splitting up to flank Orion’s position.

No choice. Orion broke from cover, running for the next cluster of boulders as bullets whined past his ears. His heart hammered against his ribs, heat-flushed skin slick with sweat and adrenaline. The lingering effects of his heat sent adrenaline surging through him, fear and rage sharpening his focus to a lethal edge. Ten yards to safety. Five.

Pain exploded across his shoulder as something clipped him, spinning him around. He hit the ground hard, rolling, coming up behind new cover with his pistol raised just as the second operative rounded the rocks.

Close range. Close enough to see the surprise in the man’s eyes when Orion put two rounds in them.

The third operative was already on him, rifle swinging down like a club. Orion threw himself sideways, the stock whistling past his head, and drove his elbow into the man’s kidney with everything he had. The operative grunted, stumbled, and Orion’s last bullet took him in the throat.

He crouched there panting, shoulder burning where the bullet had creased him, pistol still raised and ready. Three dead SVI operatives lay within arm’s reach. His hands weren’t shaking.

“Orion!” Dante’s voice, sharp with concern. “Status!”

“Still breathing!” he called back, checking his shoulder. Bleeding, but he’d live.

The gunfire was starting to die down—corporate operatives falling to Dante’s marksmanship and their own crossfire. Orion did a quick count: three Rangers still moving on the left ridge, two Regulators on the right. One of the Regulators was operating something that looked like a long-range spotting scope, staying well back from the main engagement. A spotter for a sniper team? He filed the observation away, keeping his attention on more immediate threats.

Through the smoke and chaos, one scent kept getting stronger.

Leo. Close now. Very close.

Orion shifted position, scanning the rocky terrain until he spotted the familiar figure picking his way between the bodies. Leo looked like he had in SVI territory—rumpled clothes, desperate eyes, clutching a corporate-issue sidearm like it might save his pathetic life.

Their eyes met across twenty yards of bullet-scarred ground.

“Orion.” Leo’s voice cracked on his name. “Thank God. I’m here to take you home.”

Home.The word hit Orion like a physical blow. Rage flooded through him, hot and pure and murderous. This delusional piece of shitthought—thought—

“Home?” Orion stood up slowly, pistol hanging loose at his side. “You mean back to your apartment? Back to the chains and the beatings and your pathetic attempts to break me?”

Leo’s face crumpled with what might have been genuine pain. “That wasn’t me. That was the situation, the pressure—I never wanted to hurt you. I was trying to protect you from worse!”

“Protect me?” Orion’s voice dropped to a whisper that somehow spanned the distance between them. “You bought me like a fucking appliance.”

“Because I love you!” The words exploded out of Leo. “Because the second I saw your contract go up, your face, I knew—I knew if someone else got your contract, they’d destroy you. At least with me, you had a chance to—”

“To what?” Orion stepped out from behind the boulder, walking toward Leo with predatory calm. “To learn to enjoy it? To thank you for only beating me twice a week instead of every day?”

Leo raised his pistol with shaking hands. “Don’t—don’t come any closer. I can make this right. I can take you somewhere safe, somewhere a doctor can help you recover from whatever that Gensyn bastard did to your head.”

Orion kept walking. Twenty yards became fifteen. Became ten. He was acutely aware of Dante’s position in his peripheral vision, rifle trained on the remaining Regulators.

“You want to know what Dante did to my head?” His scent was changing, he could feel it—post-Triad pheromones carrying rage and lethal intent that made Leo’s face go white with instinctive fear. “He showed me what it felt like to choose.”

“That’s not choice, that’s manipulation!” Leo’s finger twitched toward the trigger. “He’s a corporate spy, Orion! He was sent to steal from SVI, and he stole you instead! You’re just another asset to him!”

Five yards. Close enough to see the sweat beading on Leo’s forehead, the way his hands shook as he aimed center mass.

“Maybe,” Orion said. “But he’s really good at making me cum, so I’ll forgive him.”