Chapter Twenty-Three — The Alpha Bedroom

I read my father’s message twice.

DO NOT LET RONAN KEEP YOU IN THAT PENTHOUSE FOR TWENTY-FOUR HOURS.

Then the second line.

THAT IS HOW THE BONDING PHASE BEGINS.

The timer on the medical room monitor continued counting down.

23:07:18

Ronan stood beside me, silent.

Marcus looked between us.

Nobody needed to explain what the message implied.

Cradle wanted proximity.

My father wanted separation.

And I no longer trusted either side enough to know which instruction was more dangerous.

I looked at Ronan.

“You knew nothing about this bonding phase.”

“No.”

“Nothing at all?”

His expression hardened.

“I have spent the last twelve hours discovering that my family may have been involved in a breeding program that paired me to you before I could legally vote. If I knew something useful, Adrian, I would have said it by now.”

“That is not exactly reassuring.”

“It was not meant to be.”

I walked back into the main living area.

The penthouse felt different now.

Not secure.

Observed.

Every surface seemed capable of hiding a camera.

Every wall suddenly belonged to someone else.

Marcus followed.

“What do you want to do?”

“Leave.”

Ronan came behind us.

“No.”

I turned.

“Your penthouse has already been breached.”

“Yes.”

“They placed injectors inside your medical room.”

“Yes.”

“They accessed your private elevator.”

“Yes.”

“And you think staying is safer?”

“I think moving you into the city while you are entering full heat is worse.”

My anger sharpened.

“Stop talking about my body as though it gives you authority over me.”

Ronan’s face changed.

“That is not what I am doing.”

“It is exactly what you are doing.”

“No. I am trying to keep you alive.”

“By locking me inside the exact environment Cradle planned?”

Marcus quietly stepped back.

Smart.

Ronan stared at me.

“You think I want this?”

“I do not know what you want.”

That landed.

His jaw tightened.

For a moment, the only sound was the rain striking the glass.

Then he stepped closer.

“Fine.”

His voice had gone colder.

“You want honesty?”

“Yes.”

“I want whoever is doing this dead.”

I said nothing.

“I want your physician found.”

Another step.

“I want to know why my blood changed your heat.”

Closer.

“I want to know why seeing someone point a weapon at you made me forget every reasonable thought in my head.”

The room felt suddenly smaller.

“And I want you to stop looking at me like I personally designed your biology.”

My chest tightened.

I did not answer.

Because I had been doing exactly that.

Not logically.

But every time my body responded to Ronan, I saw Cradle behind it.

A laboratory.

A file.

A percentage.

Ninety-eight point seven.

Ronan stepped back.

“If you want to leave, I will not stop you.”

I studied him.

“But?”

“But I am coming with you.”

“Of course.”

“Yes.”

His voice softened slightly.

“Because whether you like it or not, somebody keeps trying to turn you into a biological objective.”

I looked away.

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“What are they turning you into?”

His expression darkened.

“A weapon, apparently.”

That answer stayed with me.

Marcus cleared his throat.

“If we are leaving, we need a destination.”

My phone vibrated before I could answer.

Unknown number.

I expected another threat.

Instead, it was a photograph.

A hospital room.

Dr. Halden sat in a chair with his wrists bound.

Alive.

Bruised.

A newspaper rested across his lap.

Today’s date.

My chest tightened.

A message followed.

HE REMAINS STABLE.

Then:

O-17 MUST REMAIN WITH A-04.

Ronan read over my shoulder.

His face became still.

Another message arrived.

SEPARATION BEFORE THE WINDOW CLOSES WILL RESULT IN PHYSICIAN TERMINATION.

Marcus swore.

I stared at Halden’s face.

He looked exhausted.

But alive.

Ronan took the phone.

“They are using him to keep you here.”

“Or to keep me near you.”

“Yes.”

“So leaving could kill him.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“They lie.”

“So does my family.”

Ronan had no answer.

The timer continued.

22:54:03

I hated every second.

Marcus moved toward the security panel.

“We need to sweep the apartment.”

“For what?” I asked.

“Cameras. Microphones. Anything that tells them whether you stay.”

Ronan nodded.

“Do it.”

Marcus disappeared into the hallway.

I remained near the window.

Ronan stayed behind me.

Not close.

Far enough that my body noticed.

The heat pulsed almost immediately.

Subtle.

Then sharper.

I closed my eyes.

No.

Not this.

I took another step away.

The discomfort worsened.

Ronan noticed.

He always noticed.

“Adrian.”

“I’m fine.”

“You are shaking.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“You also said that in the garage before nearly collapsing.”

I turned.

“Do not come closer.”

He stopped.

Good.

I forced myself to breathe slowly.

The pain eased slightly.

Then returned.

Ronan’s expression changed.

“This is the dependency they predicted.”

“No.”

“Adrian.”

“No.”

I hated how desperate the word sounded.

I walked toward the opposite side of the room.

The distance increased.

So did the pain.

A cramp seized low in my abdomen.

I gripped the edge of the sofa.

Ronan moved toward me.

I lifted one hand.

“Stay there.”

He stopped immediately.

For several seconds, I fought my own body.

Then something worse happened.

My scent strengthened.

Warm.

Sweet.

Uncontrolled.

Ronan inhaled sharply.

His eyes darkened.

He turned away.

That gesture disturbed me more than if he had moved closer.

“You are affected too.”

He did not look at me.

“Yes.”

The answer came quietly.

“How much?”

“Enough.”

I swallowed.

“So Cradle was right.”

“About biology.”

His voice sharpened.

“Not about choice.”

That mattered.

More than I wanted it to.

Marcus returned.

His face looked grim.

“We found six hidden cameras.”

I stared at him.

“Six?”

“And three microphones.”

Ronan swore.

“Where?”

“Living room, medical room, hallway, guest suite.”

Marcus hesitated.

“And the primary bedroom.”

Ronan looked at him.

“My bedroom?”

“Yes.”

Something flashed across Ronan’s face.

Rage.

Not embarrassment.

Violation.

I understood it.

For the first time tonight, we were angry at exactly the same thing.

“Destroy them,” I said.

“Already did.”

Marcus held up one tiny camera.

“There is another problem.”

“What?”

“The guest suites are compromised electrically. Their locks can be controlled remotely.”

Ronan frowned.

“My bedroom?”

“Independent mechanical lock.”

I looked at Ronan.

Of course.

The only secure sleeping space left was his.

Marcus looked uncomfortable.

“With the elevator locked down, and the guest doors compromised, the safest room in this penthouse is the primary suite.”

I almost laughed.

“Perfect.”

Ronan rubbed one hand over his jaw.

“You take the bedroom.”

“And you?”

“Living room.”

My body reacted before my pride could.

The moment he said it, another sharp wave of heat moved through me.

I gripped the sofa.

Ronan saw.

So did Marcus.

Nobody spoke.

I hated all of them for noticing.

Ronan’s voice became quieter.

“You may not be able to tolerate that much distance.”

“I will.”

“Maybe.”

“I said I will.”

He stared at me.

Then nodded.

“Fine.”

We entered his bedroom ten minutes later.

The room was larger than my entire first apartment.

Dark wood.

Low lighting.

A massive bed.

Minimal decoration.

No photographs.

No sentimental objects.

Nothing that revealed anything about the man who slept there.

I looked around.

“This is depressingly predictable.”

Ronan leaned against the doorframe.

“What were you expecting?”

“A throne.”

His mouth curved.

“Wrong floor.”

Marcus checked the final sweep.

“Clean.”

Then he left us.

The door closed.

Ronan remained near it.

I stood beside the bed.

The distance between us was perhaps twelve feet.

My body hated every inch.

I sat.

Ronan looked at me.

“You should try to sleep.”

“I will when my body stops behaving like someone else owns the controls.”

His expression softened.

“They do not.”

I looked at him.

“You cannot know that.”

“No.”

He paused.

“But I know this.”

He moved toward the armchair beside the far wall.

“I will not touch you unless you ask.”

The heat inside me surged violently.

I looked away.

“Do not make promises you cannot keep.”

“I can keep that one.”

“You are an Alpha in a room with an Omega entering full heat.”

“Yes.”

“And your compatibility file says you respond possessively under distress.”

“Yes.”

“So you expect me to believe biology stops because you said so?”

Ronan looked directly at me.

“No.”

His voice was calm.

“I expect you to believe I am more than my biology.”

The sentence hit somewhere deeper than I wanted.

Then the lights in the bedroom flickered.

Once.

Twice.

The wall monitor turned on by itself.

Ronan stood.

I stared at the screen.

One line appeared.

COHABITATION PHASE CONFIRMED.

The timer changed.

22:11:07

Then another line appeared.

PHYSICAL DISTANCE: 11.8 FEET

My blood went cold.

Ronan looked around the room.

“We missed a sensor.”

The screen updated again.

O-17 DISTRESS ELEVATED.

Then:

A-04 PROXIMITY RECOMMENDED.

I stood.

“Turn it off.”

Ronan crossed to the monitor and ripped the power cable from the wall.

The screen stayed on.

We both froze.

Another line appeared.

SUBJECTS CANNOT TERMINATE OBSERVATION.

Then the final message loaded.

IF O-17 REJECTS PROXIMITY, BEGIN PAIN ESCALATION.

My stomach tightened.

A second later, agony tore through my abdomen so violently that I screamed.

Ronan reached me before I hit the floor.

His arms closed around me.

And the pain stopped instantly.