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Slient Obedience
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2026-05-11 05:13:54Chapter 26: Silent Obedience
The road trip to New York had been a pressure cooker, and the silent order from the syndicate made it worse.Tonight’s hotel session will be live. No sound. The team is in the same hallway. Make it convincing through body language alone. We want to see desperation and emotional attachment. Fail, and the full unedited basement footage drops tomorrow morning.Callan read the message in our shared hotel room and immediately locked the door.
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Chapter 38: Merrick’s Suspicion The next dose came too early. I felt it the moment Merrick slid the needle into Callan’s shoulder in the training room after morning skate a sharp pinch followed by that now-familiar warm rush spreading under my skin like liquid fire. The link flared instantly, brighter and hungrier than before. My pulse synced with Callan’s across the room, and a low throb of shared arousal pulsed low in my gut even though we were fully dressed and surrounded by staff. Callan didn’t flinch, but through the connection I felt his jaw lock tight. His eyes flicked to mine for half a second warning, control, the same storm I was feeling. Merrick Donovan straightened, capping the syringe with practiced efficiency. The team trainer had been with the Thunder for years, seen every injury, every shortcut, every hidden scar. His blunt face showed nothing as he logged the injection in his tablet, but his eyes lingered a
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Chapter 36: Proof RequiredThe syndicate didn’t waste time.The new instructions came through late the next afternoon while we were in a quiet corner of the practice facility: stage more intimate moments. Private sessions. Give them footage that showed real emotional cracks lingering touches, broken voices, the kind of vulnerability that couldn’t be faked. They wanted proof that Callan was falling, that the power exchange was sliding into something deeper. And they wanted it soon.Callan read the message once, jaw tight, then deleted it. His hand found the back of my neck in the empty hallway, squeezing once with that familiar dominant pressure that still managed to quiet the constant roar of anxiety in my head.“Tonight,” he said low. “My suite. We give them what they want. But we keep what’s real for us.”I nodded, throat dry. The link was already humming with shared tension his controlled anger at being puppeted, my own fear that every
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Chapter 35: The First LieThe message from my father burned on my phone screen like a brand.Unknown Number:Beautiful performance tonight, son. The cameras loved it. Now prove he’s really falling. Send proof. Make him say the words. Daddy’s waiting.I stared at it until the letters blurred. My stomach twisted into knots so tight I could barely breathe. The link immediately picked up my spike of dread and sent it straight to Callan. He stirred behind me, his heavy arm tightening around my waist as he woke.“Brooks?” His voice was gravel-rough from sleep, but the captain edge was already sharpening. “What is it?”I handed him the phone without a word. He read the message in silence, his body going rigid against my back. Through the link I felt the shift protective fury rising fast, followed by that cold, calculated control he wore like armor. His hand slid up my chest, fingers splaying possessively over my heart as if he could steady the fr
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Chapter 33: Tate’s UltimatumTate stood in the doorway like a goalie who’d just read the perfect shot coming his way arms crossed, eyes narrowed, that sharp-witted stare cutting straight through whatever bullshit I might try to feed him. The connecting door between our suites felt suddenly too wide open, and the thin walls had clearly done their damage. My shirt was only half-buttoned, and I could still feel the ghost of Callan’s hands on my skin from this morning, the echo of his grief still lingering faintly in my chest through the link.I swallowed hard. “Tate… it’s not what you think.”“Save it,” he snapped, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him with a soft click. His voice was low, but there was steel in it. “I heard enough. Grief. Sterility. ‘Choosing each other despite the cost.’ You and Cap weren’t exactly whispering sweet nothings. Sounded a hell of a lot more like two guys drowning in something way bigger than locker room h
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Chapter 32: Ghost of What Could Have BeenThe grief hit like a blindside hit during morning skate.We were still in bed, the Chicago dawn painting the hotel room in soft gray light. Callan had woken me with slow, lazy kisses along my spine, his body curled protectively around mine from behind. The link was quiet but present, a warm undercurrent after last night’s raw vulnerability. His hand had slid between my legs, stroking me back to hardness while he pressed open-mouthed kisses to my shoulder.“Easy,” he murmured when I pushed back against him, needy and still half-asleep. “Let me take care of you.”There were no harsh commands this morning. Just his low voice and the steady weight of him as he slicked himself and eased inside me again, slow and deep. The stretch was familiar now, welcomed. I moaned softly into the pillow as he started to move, one arm banded across my chest, holding me close. Every thrust dragged pleasure through both of us, t
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