Chapter 22
“I’m scared,” I murmur into Orien’s chest.
His fingers tighten in my hair, tilting my head back until I have no choice but to meet his eyes. “You came here. There’s no walking that back.”
For one more breath, I allow myself the comfort of my Alpha’s embrace before I force myself to pull away.
If I’m going to confess everything, I can’t do it while leaning on his strength.
I put distance between us under the excuse of reaching for the whiskey, fingers tightening around the glass he had poured for me earlier. Melting ice rattles in the glass as I take a swallow that burns all the way down.
Orien regards me over the rim of his own glass, silent and patient, which is far more dangerous than aggression.
The apartment is too warm. Too quiet. The silence closes in around me, a stark contrast to the club’s loud anonymity. Here, every word will be out in the open, with no screen to hide behind. I plant my palms on the kitchen counter and stare down at the amber liquid in my glass.
How much has Orien already figured out? Where do I start? From the beginning?
My throat clicks when I swallow, but I force the words out. “My name is Levon Vartanian. I’m the younger brother of Alexei Vartanian, the head of the Vartanian family.”
Orien nods. He already knows this, but doesn’t interrupt, letting me go at my own pace.
“After the data breach and your crew’s subsequent involvement, the family sent me to verify that none of our information was retained.” My fingers press harder against the counter. “I constructed the Lee Esposito persona for this assignment.”
The words come out in the same measured cadence I use for debriefs, emotions masked and body language controlled, my training takes over, a familiar shield, no matter the cost.
“I spent the first week establishing a pattern at the Blue Note. I watched the staff, the patrons, the way the room was organized, and how people moved within it. I identified security systems, posted schedules, and shift rotations.”
My shirt sticks to my skin, though the apartment isn’t warm. “The second week, I began befriending the regulars to pump them for information.”
Orien hasn’t moved since I started speaking, not shifting his weight or checking the clock. His stillness reminds me of the time I followed him on the job, and that rattles me more than an outburst would.
“But my primary target was to get close to you.”
The words turn to ash in my mouth, borrowed from a crueler truth than the one I want this to be.
“Before I stepped foot in the Blue Note, all I had was a dossier my family put together for me to study.” I lick my lips. “I never expected, when we met…”
A rumble comes from him. “Go on, say it.”
I ignore the command. “Shortly after I established first contact, we received an anonymous message that the Blue Note Crew was positioning to move on the Vartanians, and I was tasked to confirm or deny the threat.”
A frown flickers across his lips, but he keeps his thoughts to himself.
“I verified that our data remained secure and reported back to the family that I found no evidence that the Blue Note was interested in expanding their territory, let alone targeting the Vartanian, but it wasn’t enough, and I was sent back to cement our relationship.”
I leave it at that, the bare facts between us. No justification. No regret. Let him see me for what I was. A willing participant, not a victim.
He deserves that much.
But Orien shows no sign of anger, betrayal, or even a flicker of surprise following my revelation. He gives nothing away, leaving me to flounder in the silence.
My jaw tightens, and I wait. I’ve made my choice, and now I have to live with the consequences, whatever they are.
When Orien speaks, he matches my empty tone. “What do you intend to do now?”
The question catches me off guard. Not why I came. Not how much of what happened between us was real. Only what I intend going forward.
“The next plan for escalation has already begun,” I say, fresh disappointment and anger at my family rising. “This won’t be a simple disruption of the Blue Note’s supplies or another attempt to have the lounge shut down.”
I search for a reaction, but he remains impassive. “I believe the anonymous message was engineered to provoke conflict between the Blue Note and the Vartanians, and Alexei agrees, but he also green-lit this new plan.”
My hands curl into fists, my entire body shaking now. “I used to think our family had a code, lines we wouldn’t cross, but tonight—”
I cut off on a gasping breath. “I don’t know who Alexei is anymore, and I refuse to participate in what the council has come up with to destroy your group.”
Another gasp escapes me, this one breaking into a sob, and I fist a hand over my heart. “I can’t be loyal to them anymore. Not when it means—”
Orien crosses the kitchen in three strides to pull me into his arms, and a dam inside me breaks open.
An ugly, uncontrolled sob tears out of me, my fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt. He’s solid and warm and real, and somehow, that’s the worst part. I’m falling apart in the arms of the man I was sent to destroy, and he offers more of a safe home than my family ever did.
He rubs my shaking back with soothing murmurs. “It’s okay, trouble. Nothing you’ve done has hurt us.”
“You can’t be sure of that.” I fist his T-shirt. “You don’t know what information I’ve passed on to them.”
His hold loosens, and he tips my chin up. “Yes, I do.”
I blink up at him through wet lashes. “How?”
“I suspected you were a spy early on,” he says. “And once I verified your identity, Rowan told the crew to give you full access to anything you wanted. We have nothing to hide from the Vartanians.”
The apartment goes quiet around us. The snow still falls beyond the window, but my focus narrows to the man standing across from me.
I hiccup out a shocked gasp. “What gave me away?”
“I was certain of your identity by your third visit.” His demeanor remains maddeningly calm. “But you gave yourself away the first night. When you shook my hand, I felt your trigger finger. The calluses don’t lie.”
He takes my hands in his, turning them over, and runs his thumbs slowly across the pads of my fingers and the inside of my trigger finger. Each pass leaves a trail of heat that lingers long after he’s moved on.
By the time he reaches the heel of my palm, I’ve forgotten to breathe.
“And you move like someone who learned to fight before they learned to drive.” One shoulder lifts in a casual shrug. “We’ve all trained enough to recognize the signs.”
A whimpered protest escapes me. He knew. From the beginning.
“But you never said anything.”
“I was curious.” He smooths a hand through my hair, tucking it behind my ear. “And I didn’t want you to vanish.”
I can’t tell if I’m more relieved or terrified. If he’d confronted me on the first night, I would have walked away without a second thought. But the weeks in between have changed everything.
“And now?” The question comes out rough.
Orien’s head cocks to the side. “I’m going to keep you.”
My throat closes, and I have to swallow hard before I can speak again. “That’s not—”
His finger over my lips stops my protest. “You chose me. Don’t think you can take that back.”
No, we’ve already crossed that line.
The room shrinks around me, the air too thick, too heavy, and I fight the urge to retreat. Orien doesn’t move, his arm resting loosely around me. Nothing stops me from leaving except my own refusal to go.
“Your family,” he says. “Are they aware you’re here?”
I startle at the question. “The car has a tracker. But my coming here won’t be a surprise. They’ve realized I’m compromised. They sent me back to either redeem or hang myself.”
His fingertips trace over my cheekbone. “And instead, you revealed their plan to me.”
I choke out a laugh. “For all you know, this is part of the plan.”
“No,” he says, his confidence shivering through me. “You won’t betray me.”
“How can you be so sure?” I whisper.
His hand slips around to my nape, and the gentle scrape of his nails has my body arching into his. “Because you’re my mate.”
“For as long as they’ll let me be,” I whisper.
He stills. “What does that mean?”
“You live by the family or die by the family.” I lean into his touch. “Leaving isn’t an option. Once it’s confirmed that I’ve betrayed them again, they’ll deal with me.”
A growl vibrates from his chest. “They’d kill you?”
“No, Alexei wouldn’t allow it,” I say. “But they’d send me to a compound up north. It’s a comfortable prison, but one without you.”
He searches my face. “Is there no way to find a compromise with them?”
Regret fills me as I remember Alexei’s words. “Not unless you can find a way to prove you mean the family no harm. And you have no reason to make that kind of gesture to the Vartanians.”
His eyes turn calculating. “What if I did have reason?”
My pulse stutters. “What are you saying?”
Orien leans forward, his forehead resting on mine. “First, I want to hear the words from you.”
I don’t have to ask what he means.
“I’m your mate,” I breathe, and rightness settles over me, followed by regret. “But it doesn’t matter. Not to them.”
“Why not?” he demands. “Political marriages happen all the time to join families.”
“Even if we found a judge to marry us tonight, a piece of paper isn’t binding enough, and we don’t have time to bond. Their plan launches in three days, Orien. And it’s bad. My defection won’t stop it. They’ll have a backup plan.”
Orien slowly releases me and strides to the counter, where he opens a drawer. Turning, he sets a small glass vial on the counter between us.
The vial holds maybe an ounce of clear liquid, unremarkable, the label plain white with a black font that reads: Inductis.
Orien takes a half step back, giving me a full sight line to both the vial and the door. “Once taken, we don’t stop until it’s done.”
Understanding dawns as I stare at the vial. I’ve only heard whispers about the black-market iterations of the drug, able to regulate Heat cycles, or in this case, force one. More than one, if he means to bond me as soon as possible.
Right here, right now, he’ll Mark me, mate me, and bond himself to a Vartanian to become family. The offer hangs in the air, a path forward paved with complete surrender.
I’m aware of the apartment door, that Orien has not moved to block it, that walking away is a real option, and he’s not pretending otherwise.
My car keys are in my pocket. My shoes are lined up by the door. My jacket hangs on the hook.
Five steps back would take me to the door. Back to the family. Back to Alexei and the identity I’ve spent eight years building. I could pretend tonight never happened.
But I’ll never be trusted again. Not the way I was only a month ago. I burned that bridge the moment I chose to warn the Blue Note about what was coming. I can’t pretend I didn’t choose this path. And I can’t take it back.
The sound of my own breathing fills the quiet kitchen. My pulse, suddenly loud, beats a steady rhythm in my ears. I look from the vial to Orien, and the world narrows to this single point of decision.
One life before this choice. Another after it. Everything hinges on this moment.
My fingers hover over the vial. “This isn’t a game.”
“No.” Orien doesn’t move. “It never was.”
Heart pounding, I close my fingers around the vial.
Orien’s breath catches, once, almost too quiet to hear.
I hold it up to the light, watching the way it catches and reflects. “How long?”
“This version is fast. Six hours, give or take, for a full cycle.”
I roll the vial between my fingers. “And after?”
“There’s an after,” Orien says, “no matter what you decide about the bond.”
“And if I decide I don’t want any of this? Would you let me walk away?”
“After the third Mark?” His eyes hold mine. “No. But right now?” One shoulder lifts in a casual shrug. “It’s your decision.”
The answer settles between us, honest and uncompromising. He won’t pretend he doesn’t want me to stay. He won’t pretend it doesn’t matter if I leave. But he won’t force the choice, either.
It’s more than anyone else has ever given me.
I look down at the vial again, then back at him. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you’re here,” he says. “You told the truth. And you chose me.”
A lump forms in my throat. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
I uncap the vial.
The scent that rises from it carries a chemical bite, with an underlying sweetness that wrinkles my nose. Not unpleasant, exactly, but unlike anything I’ve encountered before.
Orien waits, giving nothing away. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” I raise the Inductis to my lips.
The liquid burns on the way down, with a bitterness that draws a gag from me. I swallow it all in one go, forcing it past the resistance of my throat.
The empty vial gives a soft clink as I set it back on the counter.
For a moment, nothing happens. The refrigerator hums. The clock flashes. The apartment creaks.
Then heat blooms in my stomach, spreading outward in slow, inexorable waves. My skin grows suddenly too tight, too sensitive, the brush of my shirt across my back almost painful.
My pheromones slip out, thickening the air with a sweet scent. Blood rushes in my ears, and my mouth goes dry.
Orien’s eyes darken as the flush climbs my throat. “How do you feel?”
“Hot,” I manage, the word scraping from my throat. “I’m burning up.”
“It’ll get worse before it gets better.”
The understatement draws a laugh from me, almost hysterical. “How much worse?”
A ghost of a smile touches his mouth. “A lot.”
The heat builds, radiating outward from my core, and my knees weaken. I grab the counter to steady myself, knocking over my drink in the process.
Orien stalks closer, stopping short of touching me. “Still your choice. Even now.”
I look up at him, my vision already starting to blur at the edges. “Is it?”
“Yes.” He cups my jaw, thumb brushing my lower lip. “Always.”
The touch sends a jolt of pleasure down my spine, and I arch into it without thinking. “Take me to bed. Please.”
His nostrils flare. “You’re sure?”
In answer, I reach for him, my fingers finding the front of his shirt and twisting in the fabric. “Yes. God, yes.”
His arm slides around my waist, supporting me as my knees buckle. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’ve got you.”
And when the bedroom door closes behind us, I understand what I’m giving him.
Everything.