Chapter 45 Sirena
I sat on my heels and awaited further instruction, Nex’s breath shallow above me, his hands still trembling where they’d touched my hair.
One of the buyers began clapping.
Polite. Leisurely. Like he’d just witnessed a polo match and not a performance.
And since the Chilean didn’t have a neural mask, I opened the door to his mind first.
It was polished black wood with a gold handle—too clean, too confident, like a politician’s office. I stepped through—and found myself in a boardroom. Mahogany table, with a foul smell rising from underneath. White leather chairs. But the windows were fake. The sun outside them was a painted lie.
Paperwork cluttered every surface—ledgers, shipping documents, payroll receipts. Passports stacked like poker chips from every country on the planet: proof of ownership, and proof that no one left.
Beneath the table—bones, in different states of decay. Some fresh. Some not.
Still wearing boots. Still tagged with names.
And yet—the room was silent.
Not even the memory of a scream.
He didn’t think he was doing anything wrong.
Coercing people desperate to better themselves to work his mines and then trapping them there was just business.
He didn’t think he was cruel. He thought he was efficient.
You need to stand now, Nex thought at me, loud and clear.
I did as I was told, slowly turning around.
Nex’s cum was still drying on my face, and while I couldn’t get to the remaining four buyers directly—neural masks pulsed like deadbolts around their skulls, scattering thought, shielding sin—you can know a man by the orbit he builds, and by the people he permits to suffer in his shadow.
Their assistants, their bodyguards, their captains, and concierges—each one a mirror, fractured and fogged, but still reflecting truth.
They didn’t speak, but their minds sang, and through them, I pulled apart their bosses. The mistresses they swore to keep secret, the children they didn’t claim, the hands they’d paid to break.
I knew which one of them still dreamt of their mothers.
Which one cried when he came.
Which one rehearsed apologies to no one in particular.
Who they hoped would love them, if they just made enough blood money to matter.
The billionaires didn’t need to confess.
Their gravity did it for them.
“So!” Voss said, handing the tablet aside again.
“It will be a blind bidding. You’ll have until dawn to contemplate all the potential uses for the marvels I’ve got on offer.
Three women, just as pretty and just as pliable—only with the bonus of knockdown control effects on other people.
All currencies accepted—the usual fiat, crypto, gold.
” He gave the gathered men a curt bow and started to turn away.
Then he stopped—dramatically, deliberately.
“Or,” he said, pivoting back with a smile too slow to be kind, “I could be convinced to part with the prototype herself.”
I fought not to stiffen.
“But for her . . . it’d have to be something extra. Equity. Favors. Secrets. Firstborn children, future organs for transplant—take your pick,” he said, his smile vulpine and gleaming.
Takamatsu laughed. “So her father kills one of us instead?”
“I’ve had her for several days. Have you wondered why they haven’t attempted to rescue her yet?”
Because I’d told them to wait. But I already knew Voss was a liar . . .
“I’ve bound her system to mine,” he said, tapping the box on my head, then his own chest. “Not metaphorically—biologically. The device she wears doesn’t just suppress her abilities; it monitors my vitals and tracks proximity.
If I die—or if she strays too far from me for too long—it triggers a permanent shutdown.
Total neural collapse. Instant. Irreversible.
The kind of insurance policy that makes even the MSA hesitate. ”
My mind rushed to read Nex’s; I just barely pulled back in time not to bowl him over.
He was just as confused as I was—plus horrified and pissed.
“It also ensures that she won’t actually kill me,” Voss went on. “Not under the threat of our mutually assured destruction. And I can offer you that same guarantee.”
He reached over, dragged a finger through the dampness on my face, and smeared it against my dress. If he’d been less arrogant, he might have felt my heartbeat hammering beneath his touch.
But he was too busy preening for his audience.
“I’ve collared a Siren, gentlemen, and I’m offering you the chance to hold the leash. You’re all impressive men—so impress me.”
He turned to finally leave—then paused just long enough to pat Nex’s lapel.
“You can ask my lead scientist anything you want to know about her,” he announced, and then more quietly, to Nex alone, in a mocking tone.
“Sorry for selling your pet. But don’t look so stunned.
Remember, this whole thing was your idea. ”