The Sterling Acquisition : A Steamy MM Alpha/Omega Corporate Dystopia Romance (Manufactured Mates Book 1), page 12
“Mhmm,” he managed, the sound neutral enough to be agreement.
Leo’s fingers traced absent patterns on his shoulder, and Orion had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from pulling away. The touch was gentle, but it carried all the presumption of intimacy that made his skin crawl.
This is what Leo wanted—a compliant pet who accepted casual affection without complaint. Someone who sat quietly while being touched, who didn’t fight or resist or remind him that this was all built on coercion.
The movie played on, but Orion barely saw it. He was too busy cataloguing every point of contact, every assumption in Leo’s relaxed posture, every moment he had to suppress the urge to violence. Simultaneously, he was mapping the apartment’s layout, noting the location of keys, devices, and potential weapons. If Dante’s extraction plan failed, he would need alternatives.
Play the game, he reminded himself. Buy time. Survive long enough for better options to present themselves.
Even if those better options came in the form of a different corporate predator who at least wanted him intact. Dante claimed he valued Orion’s defiance, but was that just another form of corporate doublespeak? The man worked for Gensyn, after all—the corporation that perfected compliance through chemical control. His interest in Orion’s resistance might be nothing more than scientific curiosity about a particularly stubborn specimen.
Still, unlike Leo, Dante had been honest about his intentions. Crude and presumptuous, yes, but there had been no pretense of romance or partnership—just raw desire and mutual benefit. It wasn’t trust that Orion felt toward the operative, but rather a calculated assessment of aligned interests. For now.
By the time the credits rolled, Leo worked his way through most of a bottle of wine—apparently celebrating what he saw as a breakthrough in their relationship. His arm was still around Orion’s shoulders, heavier now, and his inhibitions had lowered along with the wine level.
“This has been wonderful,” Leo said, his words slurred. “Really wonderful. I knew Dante’s methods would help, but I didn’t expect such rapid improvement.”
Because sitting through a movie without violence constituted a personality transformation, apparently.
“I’m glad you’re pleased,” Orion said.
“Pleased?” Leo laughed, the sound warm and breathless. “I’m more than pleased. I’m... hopeful. For the first time in months, I’m hopeful about us.”
Us. The word was loaded with nauseating expectations. The apartment felt smaller, the walls closing in with their industrial beige paint and mass-produced SVI motivational posters. The entire space reeked of corporate sterility, barely masked by Leo’s desperate attempts at creating a home.
Leo shifted on the couch, turning to face him more, and Orion saw the intent in his eyes before he moved. The hand on his shoulder slid to cup his face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone with clumsy tenderness.
“Orion,” Leo whispered, leaning closer. “I know this has been difficult, but I really think we could have something special if you’d just—”
“Leo.” Orion caught his wrist gently, stopping the advance without violence. “I appreciate the evening we’ve had, but I’m not ready for... more than this. Not yet.”
The words came out steadier than he expected. Leo blinked, surprised by the lack of hostility in the refusal.
“Oh. I... of course. I didn’t mean to presume.” Leo pulled back, but his expression was more relieved than hurt. “I just thought, after today’s progress...”
“Today was good,” Orion said, surprised to find he almost meant it. Not because he enjoyed any of it, but because he proved to himself that he could play this game when survival depended on it. “But I need time to adjust to... all of this.”
“Time. Yes, of course you do.” Leo’s smile was soft, grateful even. “I’m just so relieved that you didn’t... that you weren’t angry with me for asking.”
Because Leo’s expectation had been violence, scratching, and biting—the kind of response Orion had been giving him for months. The fact that he managed a gentle refusal instead was cause for celebration.
“I’m trying to approach things differently,” Orion said, which was true enough.
“I can see that. And I’m grateful for the effort.” Leo stood from the couch, swaying. “I should let you get some rest. Tomorrow you have another session with Dante, and I’m very interested to see how that goes.”
Another session with Dante. The thought sent an unwelcome spike of anticipation through him, followed by self-disgust. He was supposed to be focused on survival, not on the memory of competent hands and filthy promises. Yet he couldn’t deny the tactical value of these “sessions.” Every moment with Dante was another opportunity to gather intelligence, to solidify their temporary alliance, to prepare for what would come next.
“Good night, Leo,” he said.
“Good night, Orion. Sleep well.”
Leo disappeared into his room, and Orion was alone with his thoughts, left alone in the main apartment for the first time in months.
He’d proven he could play the compliant pet when necessary. Could endure casual affection and domestic expectations without losing his mind. Could even manage gentle refusals instead of violence when Leo overstepped.
But every moment of it had been a lie, a calculated performance designed to buy him time. And the clock was still ticking toward whatever timeline Leo had been hinting at, whatever “new approaches” were being developed to ensure his compliance became permanent.
Three days, maybe four, before his window for escape closed. Before, Project Tether would be used to chemically alter his mind, to make him believe he wanted to be owned. To turn his rebellion into gratitude and his independence into willing submission.
Tomorrow, he would learn more about Dante’s plan while continuing to develop his own contingencies. He would appear compliant while gathering intelligence and preparing for violence.
Because he’d rather die fighting than live as the grateful, compliant pet Leo was so eager to create. And if Dante proved as untrustworthy as every other corporate operative, Orion would be ready to handle that, too.
Chapter thirteen
Intelligence Gathering
Dante
The SVI research facility felt different at night—hollow and echoing, with most of the corporate bustle replaced by skeleton crews and the hum of equipment that never slept. Dante waited in the shadows near the service entrance, checking his watch.
Duckie Chang was ten minutes late, which either meant he had cold feet about their arrangement or campus security was being more thorough than usual.
Fifty thousand iscs. The number had been more than enough to secure Duckie’s cooperation, especially when Dante framed it as “preserving valuable research” rather than corporate espionage. But money wasn’t Duckie’s only motivation—Dante saw the hesitation in his eyes when discussing Project Tether, the discomfort of someone involved in something they couldn’t fully justify to themselves.
A door clicked open, and Duckie’s nervous face appeared in the gap. The harsh lighting cast his features in sickly green shadows, making him look even more anxious than he likely was.
“You came,” he said, relief evident in his voice.
“Did you think I wouldn’t?” Dante slipped through the door, noting how Duckie began looking over his shoulder. “Relax. You’re doing consulting work for interested parties. Nothing more complicated than that.”
Duckie led him through a maze of corridors that Dante hadn’t seen during his official tour. Their footsteps echoed on scuffed linoleum, the sound seeming unnaturally loud in the empty hallways. “Dr. Morrison’s lab is in the restricted section. Officially, I’m here doing equipment maintenance.”
“And unofficially?”
“Unofficially, I’m about to show you research that could revolutionize human behavior modification.” Duckie sounded both proud and guilty. “Or destroy everything we claim to believe about personal autonomy.”
“Why are you really doing this?” Dante asked, studying the younger man’s profile. “Fifty thousand iscs is substantial, but not life-changing for someone with your credentials.”
Duckie’s face faltered. “My sister was in one of Elysian’s ‘compatibility trials’ last year. Their version of emotional manipulation. She’s...” He swallowed hard. “She’s not the same person anymore. Still talks like her, looks like her, but there’s something missing behind her eyes.”
Dante nodded, understanding. This wasn’t just about money—it was personal. “And you see the same potential in Project Tether?”
“Worse, actually. Much worse.” Duckie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “This... this makes people think it was their idea all along.”
They walked in relative silence through increasingly secure sections of the facility. Dante catalogued security measures, exit routes, personnel schedules—all the intelligence Gensyn would want about SVI’s capabilities. But his focus kept drifting to what Duckie said about behavior modification.
What had Morrison developed? And why did he want Orion to be a test subject?
“Here,” Duckie said, stopping at a reinforced door marked with biometric scanners and warning signs. “Dr. Morrison’s private lab. This is where Project Tether lives.” Duckie pressed his palm against the scanner, then entered a complex code.
The door opened with a soft hiss, releasing a wave of cold, antiseptic-laden air that made Dante’s nostrils burn. The laboratory beyond looked more like a medical facility than a research lab—gleaming stainless steel restraint tables, IV stands with computerized delivery systems, monitoring equipment designed for subjects who wouldn’t be cooperative participants.
“Christ,” Dante breathed.
“Wait until you see the actual research.” Duckie moved to a workstation and began pulling up files on the computer. His fingers trembled as he navigated through layers of security. “Project Tether isn’t just about compliance—it’s about creating genuine emotional attachment through chemical intervention.”
The screen filled with technical specifications that made Dante’s blood run cold. Chemical formulations designed to alter neurotransmitter production, protocols for inducing artificial bonding responses, and dosage charts that correlated with body weight and resistance levels.
“This is forced bonding technology,” Dante said. His stomach clenched.
“More than that. Look at this.” Duckie pulled up another file filled with psychological profiles and projected test results. “The subjects don’t just become compliant—they become attached to their handlers. They believe their feelings are real, authentic. Complete emotional subjugation disguised as love.”
Project Tether didn’t just break someone’s will—it convinced them they’d never had will to begin with.
It was psychological murder disguised as therapy.
“How many test subjects have there been?” Dante asked, his voice rougher than he intended.
“This will be the first human trial. Morrison’s been perfecting the formula using animal models for months.” Duckie’s voice was quiet, ashamed. He pulled up a video file that showed a series of caged animals—some docile, others aggressive. “The results on the test animals were complete personality restructuring within 72 hours. No resistance, no memory of their previous behavioral patterns.”
The video continued, showing the same animals after treatment. The transformation was unsettling—previously aggressive animals now pressed against the bars seeking contact with researchers, eyes vacant and adoring. One subject, a large canine that had been snarling in earlier footage, now whimpered pathetically when the researcher stepped away, desperate for continued contact.
“Where are the animal subjects now?”
“Reassigned to various research departments as ‘success stories.’ Docile, entirely attached to their handlers.” Duckie pulled up another file, this one filled with research footage and behavioral assessments. “Look at these behavioral changes. Aggressive animals becoming submissive, feral subjects seeking constant contact with researchers.”
The footage showed test animals following researchers like shadows, displaying distress when separated from specific handlers, and performing behaviors that would have been impossible before the treatment. The clinical notes beside each video catalogued the changes with detached scientific precision, as if the complete destruction of natural personality was merely an interesting data point.
Dante looked at the video files and felt sick, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. He’d seen countless examples of behavioral modification across territories, but nothing like this—nothing that so completely erased the original personality while leaving the subject believing they were still themselves.
“And Morrison wants to use untested technology on Leo’s Omega?” he asked, though it wasn’t really a question. His voice was flat, professional training kicking in to mask the growing fury beneath.
“Test Subject Number One,” Duckie confirmed, pulling up a new file that made Dante’s vision narrow to a tunnel, his peripheral awareness fading as he focused on the screen. “The first human trial. Morrison thinks using a virgin subject will provide the cleanest data—no previous bonding to complicate the artificial attachment process.”
There, on the screen, was Orion’s photograph alongside detailed medical information and psychological assessments. The image showed him glaring at the camera, eyes blazing with the same defiance Dante witnessed firsthand. The clinical assessments labeled this as “extreme resistance pathology” rather than the fierce independence Dante knew it to be.
Subject Profile: Test Subject #1
Age: 26
Designation: Omega, Virgin, Unclaimed
Current Handler: Leo James, Research Associate
Resistance Level: Extreme
Recommended Protocol: Full Tether Implementation with Anchor/Link sequence
Treatment Protocol - Test Subject #1:
Hour 1: Initial sedation and baseline psychological mapping
Hour 2: Anchor serum administration (establishes biochemical receptivity)
Hour 4: Link catalyst injection with bonding initiation to Handler James
Hours 6-24: Monitoring for integration and adverse reactions
The rest of the file was marked with security restrictions that even Duckie couldn’t access.
Dante stared at Orion’s photograph, something primal and possessive twisting in him. The thought of Orion being strapped to one of those tables, pumped full of chemicals designed to make him adore Leo of all people, made his vision blur with rage. His hands were shaking, he realized distantly, a physical response he hadn’t experienced since his earliest training days.
Twenty years of Gensyn conditioning didn’t prepare him for this visceral reaction to seeing someone he—
What? Desired? That was certainly true, but incomplete. Respected? Also true, but still insufficient. The realization that he couldn’t categorize his feelings for Orion within standard corporate parameters was itself disturbing, a sign of how far he’d already strayed from his training.
“When is this scheduled?” Dante asked, his voice controlled despite the irregular pounding of his heart.
“Soon. Morrison’s been waiting for the right biological timing.” Duckie’s discomfort was obvious as he gestured toward a scheduling terminal across the lab. “An exact date is in Morrison’s private system if the Omega doesn’t hit a full heat soon, they’ll use an accelerant to make it happen. He keeps the timeline locked down with triple biometric security—retinal, voice, and DNA verification. He’s paranoid about corporate espionage, especially after what happened with the Chimera Syndicate leak last year.”
“Elaborate,” Dante said, moving toward the scheduling terminal.
“Morrison had another project—behavioral pheromone manipulation—that got leaked to Elysian. He lost months of research advantage, and three researchers were executed for industrial espionage. The SVI board denied knowing about it.” Duckie’s voice dropped even lower. “Since then, critical scheduling and implementation details are compartmentalized. I only know it’s happening soon because Morrison’s been having us prepare the holding cells and calibrate the delivery systems.”
Dante examined the terminal, confirming Duckie’s assessment. The security was beyond what he could bypass in a single visit without specialized equipment.
“I’ll need copies of what you can access,” Dante said. “The technical specifications, the treatment protocols you’ve shown me.”
“I can’t copy everything—the system logs data transfers, and Morrison monitors access to classified files.” Duckie hesitated. “But I could transfer some of the basic research, maybe a few key documents. Enough to demonstrate the technology without triggering security alerts.”
“Do it.”
Duckie began a selective transfer, his movements nervous. “Just... be careful with this information. If Morrison discovers there’s been unauthorized access...”
“Complete discretion,” Dante assured him. “Our clients understand the value of maintaining operational security.”
A few minutes later, Duckie handed him a data drive containing a fraction of the Project Tether research—enough to prove the technology existed, not enough to reveal the full scope of Morrison’s operation.
“That’s all I can safely provide without raising suspicions,” Duckie said. “The rest is locked behind biometric security I can’t bypass yet.”
Dante pocketed the drive, already planning his next moves. The intelligence was valuable but incomplete. Before he could risk a full extraction of both Orion and the research, he needed more information.
And he needed to make sure Orion understood what was coming for him.
Back in his apartment, Dante connected the data drive and began reviewing what Duckie had been able to provide. The files were limited but damning—enough technical specifications to understand how Project Tether worked, enough protocol information to know what they planned to do to Orion.
