Page 43 of The Sterling Acquisition (Manufactured Mates #1)

Chapter thirty-one

Static Zones

Dante

Dante’s hands were shaking on the steering wheel.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the Berserker’s hands closing around Orion’s arms—the moment when his tactical advantage meant nothing because someone else was touching what was his.

The cut on his side was still bleeding through his shirt, but his carefully controlled world was coming apart at the seams.

“You okay?” Orion asked from the passenger seat, and the concern in his voice made something twist painfully in Dante’s chest. “You’re injured.”

“I’m fine,” Dante lied, checking the rearview mirror for the dozenth time in as many minutes. “Just focused on the route.”

His eyes kept drifting to Orion’s arms, where dark bruises were forming in the exact pattern of the Berserker’s grip.

The rage that swept through him was so intense it made his vision blur—something primitive and possessive that had nothing to do with training and everything to do with the fact that those bruises were on his Omega.

Orion shifted in his seat, a soft groan escaping him as he pressed his palm against his forehead.

His skin was flushed with fever, sweat beading along his hairline despite the cool air coming through the open windows.

His heat was building again, filling the van with the sharp-sweet smell of ozone and desire that made Dante’s mouth water.

The road ahead was barely visible—cracked asphalt with weeds growing through the gaps and rusted-out vehicles marking where journeys ended badly. Static Zone territory: the spaces between corporate control where infrastructure went to die.

Dante’s phone buzzed against his hip, and he almost didn’t answer it. The last thing he needed right now was Amalie’s voice in his ear, asking about his biomarkers or mission status or whether he was compromised. Because the honest answer was becoming unclear.

“Report,” Amalie’s voice was crisp and professional when he picked up.

“Delayed but mobile,” Dante said, keeping his voice steady through sheer force of will. “Encountered complications in the Neutral Zone. Medical supplies were lost during hostile contact.”

“Hostile contact?” The typing in the background stopped. “Your vitals appear to have elevated within the last hour. What kind of hostile contact?”

The kind where someone tried to take Orion and I nearly lost my mind, Dante thought. “Berserkers. Three of them. Situation resolved, but the suppressants were destroyed in the process.”

“That’s... problematic. How do you plan to complete the extraction without chemical management of the test subject’s condition?”

Test subject. Dante gripped the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles went white. Orion wasn’t a test subject. He was... he was.. .

“Alternative methods,” he said instead. “Route optimization, speed over stealth, protective positioning.”

“Dante.” Amalie’s said, her tone shifting. “Your psychological profile suggests you may be developing an inappropriate attachment to the mission objective. The Board is concerned about your recent behavioral patterns.”

Of course they are. Gensyn’s surveillance was sophisticated enough to monitor everything from heart rate to hormone levels. They probably knew he was in rut before he’d fully acknowledged it himself.

“My attachment is professional,” Dante said. “The test subject represents significant corporate investment. I’m protecting valuable property.”

“See that you remember that,” Amalie replied, her typing resuming in the background. “The test subject’s value to the company depends on maintaining specific parameters. Don’t let sentiment compromise the mission.”

The line went dead, and Dante pocketed the phone with more force than necessary. In the passenger seat, Orion was studying him with the kind of careful attention that suggested he caught more of that conversation than Dante would have preferred.

“Test subject?” Orion asked, wiping away a fresh sheen of sweat from his brow.

Shit. Dante had been so rattled by the call that his usual careful word choice slipped. “Corporate terminology. Don’t read too much into it.”

“I’m not stupid, Dante.”

Dante stared at the dark road ahead, weighing his options. Lie, and risk Orion figuring it out anyway. Tell the truth, and watch whatever fragile trust they built crumble.

Trust. When did that become a factor ?

“They want to study you,” he said. “Your resistance to the conditioning, your... unique situation. They think understanding how you stayed unbroken might help them improve their own asset management protocols.”

It was the sanitized version, corporate euphemisms wrapped around a truth too brutal to say directly. They wanted to break Orion down piece by piece, study what made him fight, then use that knowledge to break others more efficiently.

Orion was quiet for a long moment, processing. “And what do you want?”

The question hung in the air between them, loaded with implications that Dante wasn’t ready to examine. What did he want? Professional success? Mission completion? To deliver Orion safely to Gensyn’s laboratories and collect his bonus?

Or did he want to keep driving until they reached somewhere that corporate surveillance couldn’t follow? Somewhere Orion could be free and Dante could figure out what this feeling in his chest meant?

“I want to get you through the next eighty miles without either of us dying.”

It wasn’t a complete answer, but it was honest enough. For now.

Orion reached into his pocket and pulled out the piece of paper the shoe vendor had given him, unfolding it in the dim light from the dashboard. “Wow,” he breathed.

“What?” Dante asked, glancing over.

“It’s a map. Look at this.” Orion held up the paper, and Dante caught glimpses of it as he drove.

It was crudely drawn but surprisingly detailed—lines indicating roads, workarounds for blocked roads, squares marking settlements, and various symbols scattered throughout.

Some locations were marked with what looked like fuel pumps, others with small houses.

Several areas had angry faces drawn over them in red ink.

“Berserker towns,” Orion said, following Dante’s gaze to the angry faces. “And look—refuel stations, villages, safe houses maybe?”

Dante stared at the map in amazement. Static Zone intelligence was notoriously difficult to gather—the territories changed hands frequently, settlements appeared and disappeared based on resources and threats, and corporate scouts who went in often didn’t come back.

What Orion was holding represented months or maybe years of careful observation.

“Why would she help us?” Orion asked, studying the map more carefully.

Dante considered the question, thinking back to the glitched Alpha’s precise movements, her tactical knowledge of improvised weapons, and the way she seemed to understand the threat level of a situation.

“I don’t think she was always a glitch,” he said.

“Some of them aren’t born that way. Sometimes a corporation or research group pushes an experiment too far, tries to modify designation markers, or scent production.

When it goes wrong...” He shrugged. “She probably knows what it’s like to be corporate property that got discarded when the science didn’t work out. ”

Orion nodded, then winced as another wave of heat visibly washed through him. “How long until we reach Gensyn territory?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Six to twelve hours at current speed if that map is accurate. Maybe more if the roads are bad.”

“And how long before every Berserker pack in the area knows we’re here? ”

Dante shrugged. “This windows are open, so they probably already know.”

Orion nodded grimly. “Then we better hope we’re faster than they are.”

Or more dangerous, Dante thought, his hand moving unconsciously to check the weapons concealed under his jacket. Because I’m not letting anyone else touch you.