Page 4 of The Sterling Acquisition

His mission parameters seemed straightforward enough: infiltrate SVI’s research facility, locate and steal Project Tether, destroy their research data, and extract cleanly. Simple corporate espionage with the bonus of helping Gensyn’s vaccine production capabilities.

Nobody mentioned Leo’s spectacular incompetence or his beautiful, furious, completely unbroken Omega.

The elevator gave a death rattle that would have sent three separate Gensyn departments into hysterics: Maintenance, Safety, and whoever was in charge of preventing lawsuits this quarter. Leo just shrugged like mechanical failure was a charming quirk.

“Building’s older than the Adjustment,” he said, as if that explained accepting substandard conditions.

They reached the fourth floor, and Leo fumbled with a series of keycards and physical locks that indicated serious security concerns. Or serious paranoia. Possibly both.

“So,” Leo said as he worked through the locks, “you’re in 4B, I’m in 4A. SVI likes to keep corporate exchange guests near their counterparts, so it’s very convenient for collaboration. And, uh...” He glanced nervously at Orion. “Don’t mind the noise. Sometimes there are... adjustment periods with new management techniques.”

Orion snorted. “Management techniques. That’s what we’re calling it now?”

The door to 4A opened to reveal what had once been a normal apartment and was now a maximum-security facility masquerading as domestic space. Reinforced door frame. Multiple deadbolts. Scratch marks on the walls near the entrance that looked suspiciously like claw marks.

“Welcome to my home,” Leo said with desperate cheerfulness. “As you can see, I’ve had to make some modifications for optimal asset security.”

Leo fumbled with another set of locks, this one leading to what should have been a bedroom but was clearly Orion’s quarters. The door was reinforced steel with multiple deadbolts on the outside.

The door swung open to reveal a space that was part bedroom, part cell. A bed bolted to the floor. A small desk and chair, also secured. Books (dozens of them, apparently Orion’s one allowed luxury) lined makeshift shelves. A broken security camera hung from the ceiling, the glass on it shattered, and its wires hung from it like entrails. Andmore scratch marks on the walls, particularly around the single small window that had been welded shut.

“Home sweet home,” Orion said with savage cheer. “Notice the lovely ventilation system, the designer security features, the complete lack of basic human dignity.”

Leo’s face was approaching purple again. “It’s temporary. Just until we establish better communication protocols.”

“Communication protocols,” Orion repeated slowly, like he was tasting something foul.

He walked into the room without being forced, which seemed to surprise Leo. But at the threshold, he turned back to Dante.

“Thanks for the demonstration out there,” he said, and his voice had lost the manic edge from the courtyard. It was quiet, thoughtful. “It’s been a while since someone surprised me.”

“My pleasure,” Dante replied, meaning it more than he should.

Leo slammed the door shut and turned multiple locks.

“So,” Leo said, his voice cracking with residual humiliation and desperate cheer, “Let’s get you settled in your housing, and then we can discuss our collaboration over drinks.”

Dante nodded, but his attention was already split. Through the reinforced door, he could hear movement—not the sounds of defeat or despair, but purposeful activity. Planning.

Whatever Orion was doing in there, Dante was fairly certain it didn’t involve accepting his circumstances.

And despite everything—his mission, his training, his well-maintained professional standards—Dante was very much looking forward to finding out what that might be.

Chapter two

Professional Courtesy

Dante

Dantestaredattheceiling of his corporate-issued apartment at 3:47 AM and wondered if this was what slowly going insane felt like.

The thin walls between 4A and 4B had not been designed with sound-damping in mind. For the last two nights, he’d been subjected to Leo’s increasingly creative “behavioral modification sessions” with all the voyeuristic horror of a traffic accident. Raised voices, crashes, the occasional thud that sounded like someone hitting a wall, followed inevitably by multiple locks engaging.

Then silence. Blessed, temporary silence.

Until the tapping started.

It began the first night—three short taps, three long, three short again. S.O.S. in Morse code, maybe? Or just an Omegaslowly losing his mind, methodically testing every inch of his prison for weaknesses. The pattern varied: different rhythms, different intervals, always soft enough that Leo probably couldn’t hear it from the main apartment but perfectly audible from Dante’s bedroom.