I didn't know how long we sat there—just me, holding him, stroking his hair gently. Nine's body was warm against mine, and his breath had steadied, but he was still fragile, still drifting in and out of the silent spaces between consciousness. His hands were clenched loosely on the fabric of my shirt, his head tucked beneath my chin as if he could hide from the world in my embrace.
Nyx was still a tempest inside me—furious, protective, wanting to rip apart everyone who had ever hurt him—but I couldn't let that rage spill over. Not now. Not when Nine needed my quiet strength more than anything else.
I couldn't undo the damage done to him. But I could hold him. And I could tell him, silently, through every stroke of my hand in his hair, that I wasn't going anywhere.
He was mine. And I would never let anyone take him again.
His breathing evened out. His body, once tense with memories of pain, had slowly relaxed against me. For a moment, it felt like everything was still, as though we were two pieces of the same puzzle, perfectly connected.
And then the door opened with a soft click, and I felt the heavy presence of others in the room. I didn't look up, my gaze fixed on Nine as he lay against me, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
The sharp, clipped footsteps of the doctors filled the room first, their movements swift and clinical. I could feel the tension between us—my protective instinct wanting to shield Nine even more, even if I knew they were just here to check on him. But then came the boss's voice.
"Well, well," he said, his tone light and almost mocking. "Looks like someone's been busy."
I felt a heavy slap on my back, a jolt of discomfort shooting through me at the force of his touch. I didn't flinch, didn't react. But the sting of it made me bite back the growl that rose in my throat.
"You did a good job, Rhea," the boss continued, his voice oozing with false praise. "He's in much better shape than we expected."
I could hear the pride in his voice, the way he was always looking for praise, even when it was for things that disgusted me. And I couldn't help but feel that nauseating sense of dread creeping up my spine, knowing what was coming next.
I tightened my grip on Nine, still holding him close as the boss stepped forward. The doctors shuffled around us, barely glancing in my direction as they went about their work. But then the boss's voice cut through the air again, a cold amusement in it.
"We'll be running one more heat cycle," he said casually, like it was just another mundane task. "Before we send him off to the Supreme Leader."
I froze at the words, my stomach lurching at the thought of Nine going to the Supreme Leader. The idea of him being treated like a tool for someone else's pleasure, reduced to nothing more than an object again... I couldn't stomach it. But I kept my face neutral, forcing myself not to react.
The boss walked closer to Nine, standing just behind him. His hand reached out to grip Nine's hair, fingers twisting into the strands until Nine's head was pulled back sharply.
Nine's body tensed at the roughness of the movement, and I could feel his discomfort even without him speaking, a shudder running through his frame. But he didn't fight back.
I could see the way his eyes fluttered open, dazed and unfocused, still recovering from whatever he had been through. His lips parted in an almost silent gasp, his body limp against me, like he had nothing left to give.
The boss didn't seem to care. He was smiling, that smug, predatory grin of his, as he inspected Nine's face, eyes running over the hybrid's features with a practiced, detached look.
"Still so pretty," the boss commented, his voice low, almost reverent. "So delicate, even now."
He tugged at Nine's hair, jerking his head back a little more, and I felt my muscles tighten, but I held myself still.
"You'll make the Supreme Leader very happy," the boss added with a chuckle. "And we'll make sure he's... ready."
It felt like the room had shrunk, like I couldn't breathe, like I was suffocating under the weight of everything that had been done to Nine, everything that was about to happen to him. My body screamed to do something—anything—but I stayed frozen. For Nine. For him.
I could feel Nyx snarling, rattling in the back of my mind, but she knew as well as I did that there was nothing we could do right now. We weren't in control here.
But I wouldn't let them take Nine again. Not for good.
I felt Nine stir slightly in my arms, the faintest tremor passing through him, and I could feel his silent plea. His body wanted to fight, but he was too broken, too exhausted from everything that had already happened.
The boss turned away, his fingers lingering in Nine's hair for just a second longer, as though savoring the moment.
"Get him ready for the procedure," he ordered the doctors, who moved quickly to begin preparing. "We can't afford any delays."
I watched the scene unfold, my stomach twisting with the rising sense of helplessness. The boss was treating Nine like a piece of merchandise, a prized possession meant to be passed off to the highest bidder. I could hear the sharp, clinical movements of the doctors, the rustle of medical equipment, the cold indifference they showed as they set up everything for Nine's next cycle.
And all I could do was hold him.
I didn't care that the boss was standing there, overseeing everything. I didn't care that he thought he had control over Nine or over me.
I had Nine now. And I would protect him.
No matter what they tried to do, I wouldn't let them break him again.
As the doctors prepared the equipment, I stroked Nine's hair again, gently running my fingers through the strands. His face, still slightly pale and bruised from the last ordeal, looked so fragile, so vulnerable in my arms.