Page 57 of The Sterling Acquisition (Manufactured Mates #1)

Chapter forty-one

Safe House

Dante

Sixty-five miles from the Prairie Null Collective, Dante pulled the wheezing van to a stop in front of their destination.

According to Lilac’s map, the crude markings—a house, a pound sign, and what was either a smudged drawing of a prophylactic or a chicken leg—indicated they’d found what they were looking for.

“This is it,” Dante said, comparing the overgrown structure to the symbols on the map.

The house in front of them looked like nature had declared war on human habitation and was winning decisively.

Ivy crawled up through cracked brick walls, threading through broken windows where the ghosts of curtains hung in tatters.

Unlike the beautiful, purposeful integration of plant and architecture they’d seen at the collective, this house looked like it was being slowly devoured by the wilderness.

“Are we abandoning the van here?” Orion asked, already shouldering his pack and checking the weapons Lilac had provided. The speed with which he’d adapted to carrying firearms was either impressive or concerning—Dante hadn’t decided which.

“That’s the plan,” Dante said, pulling their remaining supplies from the van. “We’ll be walking back to the rendezvous point with Lilac from here once we’re done. It’ll be a bitch to walk, but it’s easier to hide two people than a whole van.”

He glanced at his watch, calculating. Forty-seven hours to execute a plan with so many critical failure points that it bordered on suicidal.

Stopping for any extended period of time would reduce their timeline to dangerous levels, but after their hasty departure and the stress of Amalie’s call, they needed a pause to prepare.

The front door hung askew on rusted hinges, and the exterior walls looked like they might collapse if someone sneezed too aggressively.

The interior was a single room that bore no resemblance to the structural disaster outside.

Everything was clean, well-maintained, and surprisingly comfortable.

A small kitchenette occupied one corner, complete with a hot plate and French press that looked like they’d been recently used.

A terrifying green couch dominated the center of the room, sagging dramatically in the middle as if a very large person—or possibly a small bear—had made it their permanent residence and crushed the support beams.

“Running water,” Orion called from the bathroom door, testing the faucet. “And it’s clean.”

Dante located the source of electricity—a generator connected to solar panels on the back of the house, humming with enough power to keep the lights on.

Whoever had set this place up knew what they were doing.

The security system was equally impressive—motion sensors disguised as wildlife cameras and what appeared to be a primitive but effective perimeter alarm .

“Dante,” Orion’s asked, a note of wonder in his voice that made him look up from his inspection of the electrical setup. “What is this?”

Orion was standing in front of an ancient television set, something so old that Dante had never seen one function. It was small, boxy, and had a little slot in the front designed for some kind of disc-based media that predated modern streaming systems by decades.

“It’s a DVD player,” Dante said, moving closer to examine the antique. “Old tech from before everything went digital and corporate-controlled. People used to buy physical copies of entertainment content.”

Orion was pressing buttons with the fascination of someone discovering fire. “How does it work?”

Dante spotted a cardboard box on the floor next to the entertainment center, overflowing with plastic cases containing what looked like dozens of old movies. Some were part of box sets, others were random titles scattered about like someone had been collecting them for years.

“Pick one that looks interesting,” Dante said, gesturing toward the collection

The genuine excitement in Orion’s voice as he crouched down to examine the movies did something dangerous to Dante’s carefully maintained priorities.

Here they were, fugitives from multiple corporate powers with a deadline hanging over their heads, and Orion was enchanted by a box of obsolete entertainment like a child discovering treasure.

Dante wanted to protect that feeling, to create more moments where Orion could simply enjoy something without looking for threats or ulterior motives.

“I have an idea,” Dante said, making a decision that was probably tactically unsound but felt necessary, “Let’s stay here for a day. Before we finish blowing up our lives completely. ”

Orion looked up from the DVD player, eyebrows raised. “A whole day?”

“A whole day. We’ve been running on adrenaline and desperation for too long. We deserve it. You deserve it. And,” Dante gestured toward the television. “I’ll show you how to use one of those. And maybe we can come up with some contingency plans for when everything goes to hell.”

The smile that spread across Orion’s face was radiant. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

Stopping here was probably the kind of tactical error that would get them both killed, but if they were going to die as fugitives from corporate justice, they might as well enjoy their last day before executing the second phase of their plan—the part that required them to stage evidence of their deaths convincing enough to fool corporate recovery teams.

“First,” Dante said, dropping his pack and testing the structural integrity of the terrifying green couch, “we figure out what passes for entertainment in pre-digital media. Then we plan how to disappear from corporate surveillance.”

“In that order?” Orion asked, already exploring the shelves next to the television.

“Absolutely in that order. Priorities, Orion. We’re criminals now—we might as well enjoy it.”