Page 24 of The Sterling Acquisition (Manufactured Mates #1)

Chapter sixteen

Pharmaceutical Roulette

Dante

The gray market clinic was what Dante expected—a converted storefront sandwiched between a pawn shop and a place that sold “medical equipment.” No corporate logos, just a faded sign reading “Wellness Solutions” in peeling vinyl letters.

Perfect. The kind of place that didn’t ask questions as long as the payment cleared. Dante parked three blocks away and walked, the evening air carrying SVI’s distinctive chemical tang—sulfurous and metallic.

The suppressants were a practical necessity—Orion couldn’t think strategically while his biology was in chaos, and Dante needed him functional for what was coming. But even that rational justification couldn’t explain the way his hands still shook from their encounter hours earlier.

Focus , he told himself.

The clinic’s interior was dimly lit with flickering fluorescents, the space reeking of desperation.

Mismatched chairs with cracked upholstery filled the waiting area, occupied by patients avoiding eye contact.

A disabled security camera dangled broken wires—the message was clear: what happened here stayed here.

The receptionist—a middle-aged Beta with hard eyes and the unnaturally steady hands of someone who saw everything and been surprised by nothing—barely glanced up when Dante approached the scratched plexiglass partition.

“Need something?” she asked, her tone suggesting she already knew this wasn’t about legitimate medical care. Her fingers continued typing on a keyboard so worn the letters had been erased.

“Heat suppressants. Something effective for a difficult case.” Dante kept his voice low. “Price isn’t a concern.”

She studied him for a moment, cataloguing his expensive clothes and corporate bearing. Her eyes paused on his hands—too manicured for the neighborhood, too steady for someone buying gray market pharmaceuticals for recreational purposes.

“How difficult?”

“Adult virgin. Extended pre-heat, possibly complicated by other medications.”

Her eyebrows rose. “That’s not difficult, that’s a medical emergency. What kind of other medications?”

“Unknown.”

“Shit.” She leaned back in her chair. “Without knowing what the Omega is on now, it’ll be hard to determine what to give without side effects. ”

Dante felt something cold settle in his stomach, a visceral response that his Gensyn conditioning should have filtered. “What are the alternatives?”

“Custom formulation. Takes time to synthesize, costs extra, and we’d need an in-person consult.” She pulled out a tablet, fingers flying over the screen. “Or emergency intervention, but they’re like killing a spider with an atom bomb. Stronger, faster acting, but higher risk of side effects.”

Time was the one thing they didn’t have. “Emergency intervention. What kind of side effects?”

“Nausea, disorientation, possible mood changes. Think chemical suppression hangover, but immediate.” She quoted a price that would have made most people balk, her eyes watching for any flinch at the number. “Cash only. No questions, no records.”

“Done.”

The receptionist buzzed him through to a back area that made the waiting room look luxurious by comparison.

A harried-looking doctor—if he even had legitimate credentials—barely made eye contact as he prepared the medication, his movements efficient but jittery.

A jar of cotton swabs on the counter had yellowed with age.

“Dosage instructions are on the bottle,” the doctor said, handing over a small amber vial.

“But since you’re paying premium rates, here’s what the label doesn’t tell you: these will work, but the come-down is brutal.

Make sure your Omega is somewhere safe when they wear off.

And for fuck’s sake, don’t mix them with alcohol or street-grade pheromone enhancers. ”

“Understood.”

“One more thing.” The doctor met Dante’s eyes, something like professional concern breaking through his practiced detachment. “If these don’t work, you’re shit out of luck. Don’t double dose. ”

Twenty minutes later, Dante was walking back to his car with the small bag containing what might be Orion’s salvation or another layer of chemical chaos. The clinic assured him the suppressants would work within hours, providing relief for up to a week even in extreme cases.

Long enough to plan an extraction. Long enough to get them both out of SVI territory before Morrison could implement his timeline.

Long enough for Dante to figure out what the hell he was doing.

His encrypted phone buzzed as he reached the car—not a message this time, but an actual call. Dante stared at the device for a moment, genuine alarm cutting through his post-planning satisfaction. His pulse spiked in a way it hadn’t during an operation in years.

Amalie never called. Never. Their communication was strictly text-based for security reasons.

“Yes,” he answered, keeping his voice neutral despite the sudden dryness in his mouth.

“Dante, darling.” Amalie’s voice carried its usual cheerful warmth in her text communications, but Dante had always imagined her voice to be high pitched and maternal.

Her voice had a husky sort of quality to it that made it sound like she was two second away from asking him what he was wearing.

“I hope you don’t mind the call, but I simply had to discuss the fascinating files you sent over. ”

Fascinating . In Amalie’s vocabulary, that meant either extremely valuable or extremely dangerous. Possibly both.

“I’m glad they were useful,” Dante replied, settling into the driver’s seat but not starting the engine.

“Oh, more than useful. Revolutionary, really.” Her tone remained bright, but Dante could hear the edge underneath. “The Board is very interested in acquiring a complete sample for analysis as soon as possible. Consider your 8 weeks cut short. ”

Meaning not just the partial files he sent, but the full research and possibly a working example of the technology.

“That would require significant risk escalation,” Dante said.

“Risk escalation that the Board feels is justified by the potential returns.” Amalie said with a cheerful finality that meant arguing would be pointless.

“They’re particularly interested in the subject profile you mentioned.

Test subjects would provide invaluable data about implementation effectiveness. ”

Meaning Orion.

“The timeline for acquisition could be complicated by local variables,” he said, forcing his voice to remain steady.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a way to manage those variables.

You’re so very good at creative problem-solving.

” The false brightness in her tone was a warning in itself.

There was a pause, and when Amalie spoke again, her voice carried a subtle warning.

“The Board has expressed confidence that you’ll be able to secure everything we need.

Complete samples, research data, and any relevant test subjects. ”

Translation: failure to deliver would have consequences that extended far beyond a poor performance review. Dante had seen what happened to operatives who disappointed the Board. They didn’t get demoted; they disappeared into “retraining” and emerged as different people.

“I understand the parameters,” Dante said.

“Wonderful! I knew you would.” The artificial uplift at the end of her sentences—a classic Gensyn manipulation technique, designed to make even execution orders sound like exciting opportunities. “Oh, and Dante? The timeline for extraction is within the next seventy-two hours.”

Seventy-two hours. Three days to steal Project Tether, extract Orion, and deliver them both to Gensyn for analysis .

“That’s an aggressive schedule.” His stomach clenched at the implications, acid rising in his throat.

“The Board feels that waiting longer could compromise the opportunity. There are concerns about SVI accelerating their timeline.” Amalie’s tone remained light, but the implication was clear. “We wouldn’t want all your hard work to be rendered obsolete by competitor priorities.”

“Understood.”

“Excellent. I do so enjoy working with professionals who understand priorities.” The line went quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, she sounded short of breath. “Dante? Do take care of yourself. The Board values your contributions, but they value results more.”

The call ended, leaving Dante staring at his phone in the gathering darkness of an SVI parking lot.

His reflection in the car window looked wrong somehow—still composed, still controlled, but with something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

Doubt. Conflict. A hairline fracture in twenty years of perfect compliance.

Seventy-two hours to accomplish what should have been a weeks-long operation.

Dante started the car and began driving toward the apartment, his mind racing through possibilities and contingencies. The suppressants would buy them time, but not much. The extraction would need to happen soon, possibly within the next day or two.

And after that...

The bio-monitor display on his wrist chirped a warning—elevated heart rate, increased stress hormones, breathing pattern disruptions.

Signs of emotional compromise that would trigger automatic reporting if they continued much longer.

Dante forced himself through the breathing exercises, the mental compartmentalization techniques that had been drilled into him since his earliest training.

It didn’t work as well as it should have. The image of Orion strapped to a Gensyn examination table kept intruding, disrupting the carefully constructed mental barriers.

By the time he reached the apartment complex, Dante outlined three potential extraction scenarios. None were perfect, all involved significant risk, but the 72-hour deadline left little room for elegant solutions.

The most straightforward approach would be to simply take Orion during their next consultation session—drug him if necessary, get him to a secure location, then proceed with the technology acquisition. But that created a complex transportation problem and left too many variables uncontrolled.

The second option involved coordinating both extractions simultaneously—stealing the technology while removing Orion in the resulting chaos. Higher risk but potentially more efficient.

The third option... the third option wasn’t an option at all. It involved completing only half the mission and facing the consequences from Gensyn. A career-ending move, possibly life-ending depending on how the Board interpreted the failure.

But it kept circling back in his thoughts nonetheless.

Leo answered the door with the kind of relieved smile that suggested his day had gone better than expected. Which probably meant Orion managed to maintain his compliance performance despite the biological chaos.

The suppressants might not even be necessary, but Dante handed over the small package anyway.

“What’s this?” Leo asked, examining the unmarked bottle.

“Specialized supplements. Sometimes biological disruption can interfere with behavioral modification.” Dante kept his tone professional. “These should help stabilize his system during the conditioning process.”

“Supplements.” Leo’s expression brightened, the childlike eagerness in his face a stark reminder of how out of his depth the man truly was. “That’s brilliant. I was worried the pre-heat symptoms might interfere with our progress, but if we can manage them medically...”

“One dose tonight, another in the morning if needed. Should provide several days of stability without compromising his impending heat.”

“Perfect. This is exactly what we needed.” Leo pocketed the bottle with obvious relief, his entire posture relaxing. “He’s been much better this evening—almost like his old manageable self. Your consultation methods are working better than I’d hoped.”

“Behavioral modification is rarely linear,” Dante replied. “The important thing is maintaining consistent progress toward the desired outcomes.”

“Absolutely. Dr. Morrison will be pleased to hear we’re back on track.” Leo’s confidence was returning, the stress lines around his eyes easing. “Your expertise has been invaluable, Dante. I can’t thank you enough.”

Invaluable expertise in making his expensive acquisition fall apart through the strategic application of competent hands. Leo really had no idea what was happening under his roof .

“Professional courtesy,” Dante said, already planning his next moves. “I’m glad we could find a solution that works for everyone involved.”

Everyone except Morrison, who would find his test subject chemically stabilized and therefore less optimal for his forced bonding experiment. But that was a problem for another day.

As he left Leo’s apartment, the weight of the suppressants now in Leo’s possession, Dante wondered if he’d just complicated things further.

If the suppressants worked as intended, Orion would be clearheaded enough to make his own decisions again, which might include rejecting Dante’s extraction plan entirely.

And if they failed, or if Morrison moved faster than anticipated...

The image of Orion’s defiant eyes going vacant and adoring made something primal and possessive twist in Dante’s chest. Something that had nothing to do with professional asset management and everything to do with the growing certainty that he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen.