5. Hostile Acquisition Attempt
Chapter five
Hostile Acquisition Attempt
Cass
Cass woke to the sound of someone retching in the room next door.
The walls in the hotel were thin enough that he could track the poor person’s entire morning routine: the stumbling rush to the bathroom, the violent heaving, the pitiful whimpers between bouts. He winced in sympathy and sent a quick prayer to the universal harmony for their recovery.
At least I’m not throwing up.
His own body still felt wrong, though.
Another wave of retching drifted through the wall.
Cass swung his legs over the side of the bed and immediately noticed the muscle aches—a dull soreness in his thighs and lower back, like he’d spent yesterday running instead of walking through the marketplace.
The fever-warmth he’d noticed yesterday hadn’t faded. If anything, it had settled deeper.
His wellness supplements sat on the nightstand next to his meditation beads.
Cass reached for the small bottle, the familiar weight of it comforting in his palm.
Brother Matthias said they supported spiritual alignment and physical harmony and helped maintain the balanced state necessary for transcendence work.
Right now, Cass just hoped they’d help fight off whatever illness was brewing in his system.
He swallowed two tablets dry, grimacing at the chalky taste, and let his fingers begin fixing his braids.
He was supposed to use them to tie his hair back, but he liked letting them hang loose, even if it meant having to redo them every few days.
He liked the repetition of braids. Sometimes his mind raced with questions, and being able to do something tangible with his hands always made him feel better.
Eleven days left.
Eleven days to prove he wasn’t spiritually deficient. Eleven days to find someone—anyone—willing to return with him to Springfield Gardens and enter the Harmony Program.
Eleven days before Honey might have to pay for his mistakes.
The thought made something twist in his stomach that had nothing to do with the maybe-flu.
He could picture her so clearly, her sharp dark eyes, the way she’d furrow her brow when she was working through a problem, the soft smile she reserved just for him.
They’d been inseparable since childhood, two puzzle pieces that fit together despite being completely different shapes. He missed her.
My fault, Cass thought, as he did every morning. If I could just feel the right things, think the right way—
If he could have completed the Chrysalis program like he was supposed to, they’d have done their Sacred Bonding Ceremony by now.
Instead, he was in the Neutral Zone doing his mission years later than his peers, the only failure of a program he couldn’t remember, and apparently now riddled with some terrible flu that might kill him before he ever got to go back home.
The Elders had explained it with such patience. Such disappointment. Your resistance proves how deep the earthly confusion runs, Brother Cassiopeia. Completing your mission and seeing the lost will help make the lessons more concrete.
It hadn’t. They were about as clear as concrete.
The bathroom mirror was cracked in one corner, splitting his reflection into two misaligned versions of himself.
He looked... rough. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, and his cheekbones stood out more sharply than usual, fever making his cheeks and nose bright red.
His hair was tangled despite the braids, and the clay beads looked dull in the harsh fluorescent light.
Not pure enough for Elysian. Too Elysian for everyone else.
“Today will be different,” he told both versions of his reflection, making his voice firm. Confident. Like Brother Matthias had taught him. “Today someone will listen.”
Neither reflection looked convinced.
Cass actually staggered in the hallway, one hand flying up to press against his temple as his brain struggled to process the onslaught of the day’s scents. He pressed his sleeve against his nose and hurried toward the stairs, trying not to breathe too deeply.
The marketplace was only a few blocks from the hotel, but the walk felt longer today.
The sun was too bright again, the autumn air simultaneously too warm against his flushed skin and too cool when the breeze touched the sweat at his temples.
At least the outdoor air was easier to handle than the hallway.
Wind dispersed the worst of the scent-noise, carrying it away before it could overwhelm him.
Cass took a deep breath and tried to center himself.
I am a vessel of harmony. I carry light to those who dwell in shadow.
The words felt hollow, even in his head.
He was halfway down his usual route when he realized something was different.
People were watching him, and not with the usual dismissive glances followed by quick looks away when they registered his Elysian robes. This was new, a strange attention that tracked him through the crowd with an intensity that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
An Alpha woman across the way had stopped mid-conversation to stare at him, her nostrils flaring.
A cluster of Betas near a clothing stall whispered to each other and nodded in his direction.
Even the vendor he usually bought his midday meal from—a kind older Omega who’d always been patient with his fumbling recruitment attempts—was looking at him differently, something almost like concern creasing her weathered face.
Do I look that sick?
Cass touched his cheek, feeling the heat there. Maybe the fever was worse than he’d realized. Maybe he was visibly ill in some way he couldn’t see.
He approached the water vendor first—hydration was important when fighting illness, Brother Aurelius always said—but the man took one look at him and shook his head before Cass could even reach for his bag.
“Not serving Omegas in that state,” the vendor said, his nose wrinkling. “Ask your Alpha to come instead.”
“What state?” Cass frowned. “I don’t have an Alpha. I just want to buy a drink.”
The vendor was already turning to the next customer, and Cass was left standing there with coins in his hand and a growing knot of confusion in his stomach.
What state?
He looked down at himself again—same robes he always wore, same sandals, same bag of recruitment materials. Nothing different except the flush he could feel burning in his cheeks and the strange sensitivity prickling across his skin.
Maybe he could smell that I’m sick. Maybe there’s some kind of illness spreading and he doesn’t want me near his water.
That made him sad. Even sick people needed water.
Cass moved deeper into the marketplace, trying to ignore the way people’s eyes seemed to follow him.
A woman in an expensive leather jacket stood near a rummage stall, watching with unblinking intensity.
When Cass changed direction, she did too—casual, unhurried, but definitely following.
The observation made his heart rate pick up, which made him sweat more, which made his skin prickle worse, which made him aware all over again of how wrong everything felt today.
You’re being paranoid. This is just the flu making you anxious. Nobody actually wants to follow you. No one here likes you.
But his body disagreed. Some instinct he didn’t have a name for was screaming at him to run, to find somewhere small and safe and hidden, to—
To what? Hide in a corner like a scared animal?
Brother Matthias would be so disappointed. This was exactly the kind of “earthly reaction” the transcendence training was supposed to eliminate. Fear is the body’s confusion, he’d said, his gentle hands pressing against Cass’s chest. We must release it so the spirit can flow freely.
He spotted a potential recruit near the edge of the market—a middle-aged person sitting alone, their expression weary rather than hostile. Tired. Sad. The kind of sadness that sometimes meant someone was ready to hear about harmony and purpose.
This is why I’m here, Cass reminded himself. To help people like this.
“Excuse me.” He made his voice soft, non-threatening, the way he’d been trained. “I couldn’t help but notice you seem like someone who might be carrying burdens that spiritual guidance could help lighten.”
For once, there wasn’t immediate rejection. “What kind of guidance?”
Hope sparked in Cass’s chest—tiny and fragile, but there. “My community teaches that true fulfillment comes through collective harmony. When we align our individual journeys with the greater purpose of—”
“Which community?”
Please. Please let this work.
“Elysian Dynamics. We believe in—”
The change was immediate and devastating. The person’s expression hardened and whatever openness had been there slamming shut like a door. They stood abruptly, chair scraping against concrete.
“No thanks.” Their voice was cold. “I’ve seen what Elysian does to people.”
And then they were gone, leaving Cass standing frozen with his hand half-raised and his rehearsed speech dying on his tongue.
Forty-seven rejections this week.
Three hundred and twelve since they sent me here.
The numbers played through his mind like a prayer he didn’t want to recite.
He’d been keeping count, because counting felt productive, like progress toward a goal even when the goal kept retreating.
But three hundred and twelve attempts without a single success—what did that mean about him? About his spiritual worth?
I’m the problem.
Another wave of feverish heat rolled through him, making his skin buzz. His legs ached. And his stomach felt…loopy?—not hungry exactly, but unsettled. He wanted to go back to the hotel and lie down. He wanted to curl up somewhere small and sleep until his body stopped being so confusing.
He wanted strawberries and cream.
Stop that. He told you to stay away.