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Episode 8
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2025-06-30 21:29:20
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BOUGHT BY CRUELEST ALPHA Episode 134
It’s not a gentle sharing. It’s a violent usurpation. One moment, Arthur is standing by the bed, his face a mask of concern. The next, his eyes widen. A violent shudder wracks his powerful frame. His skin, usually so warm and alive, pales to a sickly gray.“Lily?” he slurs, his voice thick, unfamiliar. He stumbles, catching himself on the bedpost. “I feel… strange.”The role-reversal is instantaneous and bizarre. I am the veteran of fragility. This is my native land. But him? His reborn body, forged in cosmic energy and starlight, has never known something so… banal. So physical. It reacts not with grace, but with a violent, panicked rejection.His fever spikes higher than mine. His chills are seismic, shaking the bed. Through the Graft, I feel it all. The ache in his muscles is a dull, throbbing echo of my own. The pounding in his head is a second, more brutal drum alongside mine. But laced with his experience is a layer of pure, unadulterated panic. His body doesn’t understand this
BOUGHT BY CRUELEST ALPHA Episode 133
The air in our strange, living home doesn’t just change. It stills. Not like before. This is a different quiet. A held breath on a cosmic scale. He is here. Our son. Not the starlit child, not the furious judge. A guardian. His form is less defined, woven from the shimmering threads of possibility itself. He carries the weight of timelines like a cloak.He doesn’t greet us. He offers. The words are not sounds, but concepts laid gently in the space between our minds.I can give you a gift. A single edit. A subtraction.My breath catches. Arthur goes very still beside me. I feel the sudden, frantic leap of his hope through the Graft. A chance to undo the one thing we never could.The moment of my transition, he thinks, and the words are careful, precise. The event of my death. I can isolate it. Remove it from the historical stream. It would be as if it never occurred.The temptation is not a whisper. It is a physical blow. To not have the cold weight of him dying in my arms as a constan
BOUGHT BY CRUELEST ALPHA Episode 132
The silence is not an absence. It is a presence. A third entity in the room with us, thick and heavy as wet wool. It has a taste. Metallic. Like sucking on a battery. Like blood on the tongue.The Warden’s warning is a ghost in my mind, already fading under the oppressive weight of the quiet. Twelve hours. Absolute silence. Not a word. Not a projected thought. Not even a strong emotion. The anomaly is a psychic predator. It feeds on resonance. On connection. Your bond is a beacon. Mute it, or it will find you.So we sit. Back to back on the cold deck, as instructed. A position of trust. A position of defense. I can feel the solid weight of him, the rise and fall of his breath. Our shared heart—thump-thump, thump-thump—is the only sound in the entire universe. It’s too loud. Each beat is a drum, a gong, a screaming announcement of our presence. I try to slow it, to calm it, but the effort itself is a spike of anxiety that vibrates through the Graft. I feel Arthur flinch.Stop. Feel not
BOUGHT BY CRUELEST ALPHA Episode 131
It starts as a whisper. A ghost of a thought that isn’t mine. A fragment of a sentence, looping just on the edge of hearing.…never listen…I shake my head, try to focus on the seedling I’m tending. Our little garden, the one piece of this place that feels real. But the whisper comes again, a little louder. A needle of sound in the quiet.…you never listen…It’s my voice. But twisted. Thin and reedy, stripped of context, all the emotion boiled away into a pure, sharp complaint.Arthur, across the room, winces. He presses the heels of his hands against his temples. “Do you hear that?” he mutters.Then his own voice joins the chorus. Not his now-voice. A recorded snippet, flat and exhausted. …just need some space, Lily…The Graft. The damn Graft. It’s stabilized, the Warden said. No more sepsis, no more wild power surges. But it didn’t turn off. It’s been… recording. A constant, silent witness to every moment, every word. And now it’s playing something back.A minor argument. Weeks ago.
BOUGHT BY CRUELEST ALPHA Episode 130
The knowledge arrives not with a bang, but with a whisper from the Warden. A data-stream of cool, clinical light, explaining the procedure. The equations are perfect. The pathways clear. They can sever the Graft. Not tear it. Not burn it. Unweave it. Gently. Cleanly. A careful disentanglement of two souls stitched together at the cellular level.We can be free.The words hang in the air of our living, breathing house. Free. They should feel like a pardon. A reprieve. They feel like a death sentence.Who am I without him?The question is a void that opens up beneath my feet. For so long, my emotions haven’t been just mine. They’ve been ours. His anger has been my fire. His joy, my light. Even his doubts, his hidden envies, have been cold stones in my gut that I’ve learned to carry. My own feelings are ghosts in comparison, faint echoes I can barely recognize.The thought of silence… true, internal silence… is terrifying. To be alone in my own head. To have a thought and know it is only
BOUGHT BY CRUELEST ALPHA Episode 129
Kieran.Not a ghost. Not an echo. Not a fragment of memory. He is whole. Solid. Real in a way that has nothing to do with physics. He stands on our living moss carpet, and he doesn’t radiate pain, or regret, or the chilling hunger of a lost soul. He radiates… peace. A deep, absolute, unshakable calm that makes the very air around him still and sacred.His eyes find mine. They are the same eyes I remember, but the fear, the desperation, the constant calculation is gone. Washed clean. He looks at me, and then at Arthur, with a clarity that is like a physical blow. A living indictment.I can’t breathe. My hand flies to my chest, not in pain, but in shock. The Graft inside me, that volatile, messy knot of love and pain and shared power, feels suddenly… cheap. Tawdry. A frantic, screaming thing next to his immense, quiet stillness.Arthur feels it too. Through the bond, I feel his initial shock curdle into something hot and dark and familiar. Jealousy. A raging, Grafted jealousy that burns
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