Page 31 of The Sterling Acquisition (Manufactured Mates #1)

Chapter twenty-one

Direct Intervention

Orion

The security guard’s blood tasted like copper and fear, and Orion spat it out with vicious satisfaction as the man stumbled backward, clutching his torn cheek.

“Fucking animal!” the guard snarled, his hand coming away red. “How is something that small doing this much damage?”

Orion bared his teeth in a feral grin. Three guards, Leo hovering by the door, and Dr. Morrison with his medical bag like some kind of corporate vulture—and they still couldn’t get him to hold still.

Good. Let them work for it.

The guard closest to the window looked pale and sweaty, swaying on his feet. Orion’s scent was hitting him hard—two missed doses of suppressants plus the stress of fighting turned his pheromones into a weapon that was making the bastard dizzy.

“You should have brought more people,” Orion spat at Dr. Morrison, who was watching the proceedings with clinical detachment. “ Or maybe you should have asked Leo how well his management techniques have been working out.”

“Secure the subject’s verbal capabilities,” Morrison said calmly. “We’re operating on a predetermined schedule.”

The bleeding guard lunged forward, probably hoping to get revenge for his ruined face, but Orion was already moving. He might be restrained, but he wasn’t helpless—not yet. His knee came up hard, connecting with the man’s gut, and the guard crumpled with a strangled gasp.

“Coward!” Orion shouted at Leo, who pressed against the wall like he wanted to disappear. “Can’t even watch what you started? Too fucking pathetic to see this through yourself?”

Leo flinched, his fingers nervously straightening his already-perfect collar. He reeked of alcohol—liquid courage that wasn’t working very well. “This is a necessary procedure,” he muttered, the justification sounding hollow. “It’s the most efficient solution to our productivity challenges.”

Dr. Morrison stepped closer, pulling something from his medical bag that looked like a taser. “Gentlemen, if you would establish proper physical compliance protocols, please. We can’t afford to jeopardize our implementation timeline with continued behavioral resistance.”

“Behavioral resistance?” Orion spat at Morrison’s polished shoes, watching with satisfaction as the man stepped back in disgust. “That’s what you call defending myself against corporate-sponsored rape?”

Morrison’s voice remained maddeningly calm. “Establish immobilization.”

Two guards grabbed Orion’s arms while the third positioned the taser against his ribs.

The electrical shock hit him like a sledgehammer, every muscle in his body seizing as lightning shot through his nervous system.

He bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste filling his mouth as he fought to stay conscious.

When the current stopped, he slumped between the guards, his vision blurry and his limbs twitching with residual electricity.

“Optimal compliance achieved,” Morrison observed, crouching down to meet Orion’s eyes. “Now, I have a few preliminary assessment questions before we begin the bond enhancement procedure.”

Orion tried to spit at him again, but his mouth wasn’t cooperating yet.

“First query: confirm virginal status of the Omega asset.”

“Get fucked,” Orion managed, his voice hoarse from screaming.

“I’ll document that as confirmation. Second query: verify absence of previous Alpha claiming within the contractual period.”

“I said get fucked.”

Morrison smiled thinly. “Also affirmative, then. Excellent. Unclaimed Omega subjects demonstrate significantly enhanced receptivity to the bonding catalyst. The neurochemical attachment forms with greater stability when there’s no previous conditioning to overcome.”

Neurochemical attachment. Like he was talking about industrial adhesive instead of destroying someone’s mind.

“Third query: confirm current pre-heat biological status.”

Orion glared at him silently. His skin was fever-hot, his body producing slick despite the terror and rage, every instinct screaming that he needed to find somewhere safe to ride out the biological storm that was building. But he wasn’t going to give Morrison the satisfaction of admitting it.

“Your pheromonal signature provides sufficient verification,” Morrison said, pulling a syringe from his bag. “Though I believe we can optimize the timeline through an appropriate catalyst introduction. Mr. James?”

Leo stepped forward reluctantly, tugging at his cuffs and avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room.

“Your contractual acquisition window expires in seven days,” Morrison continued as he prepared the injection.

“After that period, any Alpha in SVI territory can enter the competitive acquisition process for this asset. Given the subject’s.

.. unique pheromonal profile... I anticipate extremely aggressive bidding parameters. ”

“I’m aware of the timeline,” Leo muttered, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

“Are you equally cognizant that your quarterly performance evaluation coincides with this deadline?” Morrison’s tone remained pleasant, but there was steel underneath.

“If you desire to maintain both your current employment status and your domestic asset, you’ll authorize completion of this enhancement procedure.

” He gestured at the syringe. “Otherwise, you’ll be pursuing alternative career opportunities while a more capable Alpha enjoys the benefits of a perfectly synchronized Omega. ”

Leo’s face went ashen, but he nodded, fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Morrison turned back to Orion with the syringe. “This accelerant will optimize your biological systems for full reproductive receptivity.”

“Don’t touch me with that thing,” Orion snarled, struggling against the guards’ grip.

Morrison ignored him and jabbed the needle into his arm before he could pull away. The injection burned going in, and within seconds Orion could feel something changing in his body—heat spreading through his bloodstream, his skin becoming even more sensitive, slick production increasing .

No. No, not like this.

“Fuck you!” he screamed, sudden energy flooding his system as the artificial heat triggered every fighting instinct he had. “Fuck all of you!”

He threw himself sideways, breaking free from one guard’s grip and using his momentum to slam his head backward into the nauseous guard’s face. The man staggered back with a shocked cry, and Orion grabbed a handful of his tactical vest, twisting to drive his knee into the guard’s groin.

The guard collapsed with a high-pitched whimper, curling into a fetal position as his face drained of color.

“Jesus Christ,” someone said from the doorway.

Orion looked up to see two more guards entering the apartment, probably called by neighbors who had heard the commotion. They stopped short when they saw the scene—one guard bleeding from his face, another writhing on the floor, and Orion standing over them with murder in his eyes.

“We always thought Leo was just weak,” one of the new guards said. “Didn’t realize...”

“Realize what?” Orion demanded, breathing hard. “That maybe Leo’s the problem, not me?”

Morrison was pulling another syringe from his bag, this one larger and filled with something that looked like liquid silver. “We need to establish an intravenous delivery system for the bonding catalyst.”

IV line. Which means they need me still for several minutes.

“Your enhanced biological state will create unprecedented satisfaction,” Morrison said, his voice taking on an almost parental tone.

“The bonding catalyst establishes genuine neurochemical attachment pathways—not merely physical compliance, but comprehensive emotional synchronization. You’ll experience fulfillment beyond anything in your previous existence. ”

“Fulfillment,” Orion repeated flatly. “Fulfillment through chemical lobotomy.”

“Fulfillment through biological purpose optimization,” Morrison corrected. “Satisfaction derived from proper hierarchical integration. Contentment through—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Orion interrupted. He was running out of time and options, but there was one card he hadn’t played yet. One guaranteed way to make Leo lose his goddamn mind.

Hit him where it hurts.

“This whole thing is pointless anyway,” Orion said, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Your bullshit bonding chemical isn’t going to work. Not on me.”

“The catalyst demonstrates ninety-seven percent efficacy across all test subjects—” Morrison began.

“Not when someone else got there first.” Orion looked at Leo, whose face was already starting to change. “Your corporate spy friend? The one you’ve been letting into my room for ‘consultations’? He already made me cum. Made me beg for it. And I loved every fucking second of it.”

Leo went white, then red, his hands clenching into fists.

“Even when you were just a few rooms away,” Orion continued viciously. “Even when I could hear you stumbling around drunk, pissing yourself because you can’t handle basic Omega management. He had his hands all over me, and I was wet for him in a way I never could be for you.”

“You’re lying,” Leo whispered .

“Am I? Ask him,” Orion taunted, seeing the last threads of Leo’s control unraveling. “Ask your helpful consultant how tight I am, how I taste—”

Leo’s hands closed around Orion’s throat, cutting off his words and his air supply. His face twisted with rage and humiliation, his grip tightening as Orion clawed at his wrists.

“Lying little whore,” Leo snarled. “Ungrateful fucking—”

The apartment door exploded inward with a sound like thunder.

Through his fading vision, Orion saw a figure in a bloodstained suit jacket step through the wreckage, automatic weapons in both hands.

Dante had arrived.

And he looked like he was ready to kill everyone in the room.