Chapter 20 #2
“The law says otherwise.” Merrick’s voice was smooth and satisfied. “Your father used my funding to develop the biological modifications that saved your life. That makes those modifications—and by extension, you—part of my intellectual property portfolio. I have the documents to prove it.”
“That’s not—”
“Legal? I assure you it is. I had the best contract lawyers on three planets draft those agreements.” He smiled. “Your father was so desperate to save his dying child that he signed without reading a single clause. Tragic, really.”
She looked at her father.
How could you?
The question burned in her throat, but she couldn’t force it out. The suit was making everything difficult—breathing, speaking, thinking. Every moment felt like drowning in reverse, like being pulled away from water instead of towards it.
“I thought I could pay it back,” her father whispered. “I thought if you found enough valuable things, if my research paid off, if something went right for once—” He buried his face in his hands. “I never meant for this to happen. You have to believe me.”
“I believe you meant well.” Her voice sounded harsh. Hollow. “I believe you loved me. But you still sold me, Father.”
“Ariella—”
“Was it worth it?” She forced herself to sit up despite the agony, despite the suit’s pressure against her skin, despite everything. “Your research. Your validation. Your precious scientific legacy. Was it worth turning your daughter into a bargaining chip?”
His face crumpled.
“No,” he whispered. “It wasn’t. It could never… I didn’t realize…”
“Enough.” Merrick stepped between them, his patience clearly exhausted. “This sentimentality is tiresome. Anton, you’ve said your piece. Now leave.”
“But—”
“Leave. Before I decide your usefulness has expired.”
Her father looked at her one last time—guilt and love and despair all tangled together in his expression—and then he turned and shuffled out of the medical bay, his shoulders slumped. He didn’t look back.
She watched him go, and something inside her broke.
They put her in a room at the back of the lab.
It was small and windowless, with a single bed, a small refresher unit, and nothing else. The walls were reinforced metal—no escape routes, no weak points, no way out. The air was dry and recycled, utterly devoid of moisture, and her modified skin began to itch within minutes.
“Your new home.” Merrick stood in the doorway, watching her with that cold, acquisitive gaze. “Temporarily, of course. Once the wedding arrangements are finalized, you’ll be moved to my estate in Port Cantor. The accommodations there are much more comfortable. As long as you cooperate.”
She sat on the bed, her arms wrapped around herself.
“I won’t marry you.”
“You will.” He sounded bored. “The suit makes resistance… impractical.”
“You’re a monster,” she said.
“I’m a businessman.” Merrick adjusted his cuffs. “There’s a difference. Monsters act on impulse; I act on profit margins. You’re an investment, Ariella. The most valuable acquisition of my career. And I take very good care of my investments.”
He stepped back and pressed a panel on the wall.
“Rest now. You have a long night ahead. My partners are eager to meet you.”
The door slid shut, and locks engaged with a heavy chunk.
She was alone.
The hours crawled by. Without her bioluminescence, the room was oppressively dark—a small emergency light in the corner provided barely enough illumination to see her own hands. She huddled on the bed, breathing the dry, dead air, feeling the suit’s constant pressure against her skin.
Everything hurt. Her gills, sealed shut. Her skin, dimmed to nothing. Her Song, silenced. Every modification her father had given her—the gifts that had saved her life and made her special—was being suppressed, strangled, killed by inches.
I’m being erased, she thought. He’s turning me into something I’m not.
The mating mark on her shoulder was the only part of her that still felt alive. It pulsed with warmth, with the echo of Valrek’s presence, with the memory of his touch. The bond stretched between them like a lifeline, and she clung to it with everything she had.
I’ll come back, she’d promised. Before the sun reaches its peak.
The sun must have set hours ago. He would know something was wrong. He would come for her.
But what if he can’t find me? The thought terrified her.
What if Merrick kills him before he gets close?
That thought was worse.
She pressed her hands against her face and forced herself to think. Panic wouldn’t help. Despair wouldn’t help. She needed to be smart, strategic, to find a weakness in Merrick’s plan that she could exploit.
The suit suppresses my modifications, but it doesn’t eliminate them. They’re still there, waiting to be released. The bond with Valrek is still active. Muted, but not broken. Merrick wants me alive.
Something to work with. Not much, but something.
The video call came three hours later.
Merrick’s mercenaries collected her from the room, escorting her down the corridor with firm grips on her arms. She was too weak to fight—the suit had drained something vital from her, leaving her exhausted and shaky—but she kept her head high and her expression blank.
He wants a doll. A trophy. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.
They brought her to what had once been her father’s office.
The space had been transformed—new furniture, expensive art, a massive screen dominating one wall.
Merrick stood at the center of it all, adjusting his collar with the exactitude of a man who knew precisely how every detail contributed to his image.
“Smile,” he instructed as they positioned her in front of the screen. “My partners appreciate beauty, and you’re going to give them a show.”
The screen flickered to life.
Faces appeared—a dozen of them, arranged in a grid. Old men, mostly, with the look of wealth and power that came from generations of unchallenged authority. They examined her like she was a piece of art at auction, their eyes cold and appraising.
“Gentlemen,” Merrick said smoothly. “May I present the crown jewel of my collection? The Siren of Port Cantor herself.”
One of the faces leaned forward, frowning.
“She looks… ordinary.”
“A temporary measure.” Merrick waved a dismissive hand. “The Normalizing Suit suppresses her more dramatic features for travel purposes. Once she’s settled in my estate, the modifications will be displayed in full. Bioluminescent patches, functional gills, enhanced vocal capabilities—”
“Can she still sing?” Another face, younger, with a cruel twist to his mouth. “I’ve heard stories about the Siren’s Song.”
Merrick glanced at Ariella.
“Demonstrate.”
She stared at him.
“I said—”
“The suit suppresses my Song.” Her voice was rough, barely above a whisper. “You know that. You designed it that way.”
A flicker of annoyance crossed his face.
“A temporary inconvenience. Once the wedding is complete and the contracts are finalized, the suit will be removed. She’ll perform on command.”
“On command.” The young man laughed. “Like a trained animal.”
“Like an investment.” Merrick smiled. “The most valuable investment any of you will ever make.”
More questions were asked—about her dietary requirements, her temperature sensitivity, her breeding potential. She stood in silence, her fists clenched at her sides, while men discussed her body like she was livestock at market.
I am not property, she thought fiercely. I am not a thing to be bought and sold.
But she couldn’t say the words. The suit pressed against her throat, and her voice was too weak to carry the rage she felt.
They returned her to the room when the call ended.
She collapsed onto the bed, shaking with exhaustion and fury. The video call had lasted nearly two hours—two hours of being displayed, discussed, evaluated by men who saw her as nothing more than an exotic commodity.
Is this what my life will be? Entertainment for rich men who want to own something special?
She curled onto her side and reached for the bond with Valrek, desperate for comfort.
The connection was still there—muted, distant, but present.
She could feel him: rage and fear and a hunting focus that made her heart race.
He was searching for her, and she would fight with everything she had to get back to him.
Even if it meant dying in the attempt.