Page 33 of The Sterling Acquisition (Manufactured Mates #1)

Chapter twenty-three

Team Building

Orion

The alley behind the apartment building stank of garbage and industrial runoff, but Orion had never been more grateful for the familiar scent of urban decay. It cut through the fever-haze clouding his thoughts and gave him something to focus on besides the fire burning through his veins.

Morrison’s injection triggered what his body was already preparing for—his heat hitting with full intensity. But his mind felt sharper, the way it always did when survival depended on staying ahead of Alphas who could smell him coming.

Dante was moving with predatory efficiency, his eyes scanning the narrow alley for threats.

Blood had dried on his shirt from the apartment fight, and he favored his left side where the guard caught him with the stun weapon.

But he was still lethal, still dangerous, still the kind of Alpha that made Orion’s heat-sensitized nerves sing with unwanted awareness .

“Extraction point is ten blocks northeast,” Dante said. “Near the docks”

Orion nodded, then had to grip the brick wall as a wave of heat-induced dizziness washed over him.

This was how it always started—the fever climbing, his heart hammering against his ribs, the scent of his own pheromones so strong he could taste them in the air.

Years of navigating SVI territory during heats taught him to work with the symptoms instead of fighting them.

Focus. You know these streets better than anyone. You know how to disappear when Alphas come hunting.

“Ten b-blocks through active p-patrol zones,” Orion stammered. He tried to ignore the embarrassment of the unfortunate verbal tic that developed with his heats in the last year. “During a territory emergency lockdown. With m-me broadcasting pheromones like a f-fucking beacon.”

Dante’s nostrils flared, and Orion caught the way his pupils dilated as he processed the scent.

Even through whatever suppressants the Alpha was using, Orion’s heat was affecting him.

It always did—that was the problem with being unclaimed.

His heats had been getting stronger every cycle, more intense, harder to hide from.

Another complication. But you’ve handled worse.

“We’ll manage,” Dante said, but his voice carried a tension that hadn’t been there before. “Corporate protocols are predictable. We avoid main thoroughfares, stick to industrial areas, move fast and quiet.”

“Corporate p-protocols,” Orion repeated, fighting back a laugh that would have been more hysteria than humor. “Because you know SVI t-territory so well.”

He pushed away from the wall, testing his balance. The heat was making everything hypersensitive—the brush of his clothes against his skin, the way the morning air felt too cool and too warm simultaneously, the way Dante’s scent was cutting through his own pheromone chaos like a blade.

Move. Before you do something stupid.

They made it three blocks before Orion heard the sound that made his blood freeze—the low rumble of SVI security vehicles moving in coordinated patterns through the residential district.

“Shit,” he whispered, grabbing Dante’s arm and pulling him into the narrow space between two buildings. “They’re doing a st-street sweep.”

The space was barely wide enough for both of them, their bodies pressed together in the shadows as the sound of engines grew louder. Orion could feel the heat radiating from Dante’s skin, could hear the way the Alpha’s breathing had changed from controlled to something more primal.

This is a problem. This is the same problem you’ve had for years.

“How long?” Dante asked, his voice a low rasp.

“Two minutes. M-maybe three.” Orion pressed his back against the brick wall, trying to put as much distance as possible between them in the confined space. “They’ll sweep the main streets first, then d-double back through the alleys.”

He’d learned SVI patrol patterns the hard way—years of slipping through shadows during heats, avoiding Alphas who worked in the same factory as him, finding hiding spots that stayed safe even when his scent was at its strongest. The heat made him vulnerable, but it had also taught him to be invisible.

Dante nodded, but his eyes fixed on Orion’s throat. The Alpha’s scent was changing too, taking on that musk of black tea and cherry.

He’s fighting it. But he’s losing. They always lose .

The first security vehicle rumbled past their hiding spot, its searchlight cutting through the shadows.

Orion held his breath, counting heartbeats, trying to ignore the way his body was responding to Dante’s proximity.

This was what his heats were like—every nerve ending screaming for contact, for the kind of attention that would make the biological chaos stop.

He learned to manage it, to work around it, but it never got easier.

The second vehicle was closer, its engine sound overlapping with the sound of Orion’s own blood rushing in his ears. He could feel slick gathering uncomfortably, and Dante’s lips looked delightfully kissable–

Control it. You’re not helpless. You’ve done this before.

But control was becoming increasingly difficult when Dante’s hands were suddenly on his hips, pressing him more firmly against the wall. When the Alpha’s scent was flooding the small space with promises of what Orion’s body was craving.

“D-don’t,” Orion whispered.

“Your scent,” Dante muttered. “It’s—”

“I know what it is.” Orion’s hands came up to press against Dante’s chest, ostensibly to push him away. Instead, his fingers curled into the bloodstained fabric of his shirt. “F-fight it.”

“I’m trying.”

The third security vehicle was outside their hiding spot, its searchlight sweeping back and forth across the alley entrance. Orion could hear voices—guards coordinating their search pattern, reporting in to their supervisors.

They’re taking too long. They’re going to find us.

And then Dante’s mouth was on his throat, his hot tongue licking a strip up from his collar to his ear. The contact sent electricity shooting through Orion’s nervous system, his body arching against the Alpha’s solid frame.

No. Not here. Not now.

But his hands tightened in Dante’s shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. When Dante’s teeth scraped against his throat, he had to bite his lip to keep from making a sound that would give them away as he felt an embarrassing amount of slick soaking through his pants.

“D-Dante,” he managed, his voice a whisper. “We need to—”

Dante’s hand slid down, cupping his hard cock through his clothes. The touch was overwhelming, but brief—just enough pressure to make Orion’s hips jerk.

Stop. Think. You’re in the middle of a goddamn manhunt.

The security vehicles were moving away, their engine sounds fading into the distance. But Dante didn’t move, nibbling at his earlobe instead as he gripped Orion’s cock through his clothes.

“We should go,” Orion said, but made no move to pull away from the wall.

“We should,” Dante agreed, his thumb brushing over Orion’s bottom lip. “In a moment.”

A moment. Because you have time for this.

The touch was maddening—not enough to provide relief, just enough to make the heat-driven need worse. Dante’s other hand was still on his hip, holding him against the wall, and Orion could feel the Alpha’s control fraying at the edges.

“The vehicles are gone,” Orion pointed out.

“I know.” Dante’s mouth found the spot just below his ear, and Orion had to bite back a sound that would have been embarrassing. “You’re still shaking. ”

It was true. His body was trembling with the combination of fear, arousal, and the chaos of his heat. The contact made everything worse instead of better, leaving him more desperate than satisfied.

“We n-need to move,” Orion said, finding the strength to push against Dante’s chest. “Before they circle back.”

Dante stepped back reluctantly, his hungry eyes fixed on Orion’s flushed face. “You’re right. But this isn’t over.”

No. It’s not. And that’s the problem.

They emerged from the narrow hiding space into the broader street, taking a moment to regain their bearings.

The industrial district sprawled before them—a maze of concrete and steel, massive factory buildings exhaling steam that mingled with the morning fog.

The rhythmic clank of automated machinery provided cover for their movement, oil and metal scents competing with the pheromonal chaos Orion was producing.

The eastern service corridors would be safest, but even those would be patrolled during lockdown. The northwestern route offered more cover but added two blocks. The southern path was quickest, but exposed them to multiple checkpoints.

None of the usual routes will work. Not with a full lockdown and me broadcasting like this.

That’s when the realization hit him—they were going to be caught no matter which path they took. His scent was too strong, the patrols too thorough, the net closing too quickly. Unless...

Use it. Turn the problem into a weapon.

“The checkpoint at Fifth and Industrial,” he said, his voice taking on the tone of someone presenting a tactical plan. “Two guards, usually. They’ll be looking for us specifically now, but they won’t be expecting us to approach directly. ”

Dante’s eyebrows rose. “You want to walk up to a security checkpoint?”

“I want t-to use what we have.” Orion gestured to himself, to the way his scent was already making a passing Beta stumble. “I’m an unclaimed Om-m-mega in heat. My pheromones made that one guard at Leo’s look like he was going t-to puke. That’s not a disadvantage—that’s a weapon.”

Understanding dawned in Dante’s eyes as a smirk formed on his face. “You want to overwhelm them.”

“I want to m-make them so dizzy they can’t think straight, then t-take their uniforms and identification.” Orion’s smile was sharp, feral. “SVI security d-doesn’t train for this kind of chemical warfare. They’re used to dealing w-with claimed Omegas on suppressants, not someone like me.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”