They came in like they owned the place.
Dr. Venkar first—his usual scowl fixed like it was part of his face. Then the others, the last few remaining heads of departments and field units, carrying clipboards and tension like armor. No one met my eyes directly. They didn't need to. I was in his chair now.
Nine sat beside me in the large office armchair, one leg tucked under him, his sleeve frayed where he kept picking at the same spot. I didn't ask him to stay for the meeting. I hadn't needed to. He just… stayed.
Every time the door opened, I felt him go still. Just a little. Like he couldn't help it.
"You're safe." I said it through the bond, not aloud. A low, warm hum along the connection between us.
His fingers brushed against mine on the armrest. Not grabbing. Just there. Close enough to feel if I pulled away.
I didn't.
"We're discussing Project WRAITH," I said once the last of them sat. "The creatures are contained, but containment was never a plan, was it?"
Commandant Tey shifted in his seat. "We never had a long-term handler survive."
"Because you didn't treat them like anything alive," I said flatly. "You wanted weapons. You got them."
"And now?" Venkar asked, brow raised. "You want to what—rehabilitate them?"
Nine was too quiet beside me. Still picking at his sleeve.
"I want to see if they can live without being pointed at a target," I said. "No more lab chains. No more commands."
"They listen to you," said one of the logistics heads.
"They don't trust me. Not yet," I replied. "But they stop when I tell them to."
"That's more than anyone else ever managed," Tey muttered. "Even the Supreme Leader."
Beside me, Nine stiffened.
I didn't look at him. Just reached a hand under the table and gently rested it on his thigh. Grounding. I felt the sharp exhale against my shoulder where he leaned closer.
"They're not like him. You're not like you were."
His response came in a hush, feather-soft across the bond: "You're not either."
I swallowed the tightness in my throat.
"They stay under my supervision," I said aloud. "No access without me. No experiments. No new hybrids. If I find out otherwise, I won't need Project WRAITH to clean it up."
"You're threatening us," Venkar said, not even bothering to mask the disgust in his voice.
"I'm stating the rules," I said, and let my tone sharpen. "You've seen what happens when people break mine."
They had.
Nine quietly climbed into my lap. No fanfare. No hesitation. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. His knees tucked in beside my thighs, cheek resting against my collarbone. He didn't look at them. He didn't need to. He'd already decided they weren't worth seeing.
I expected tension. Disapproval.
But what I got was silence.
The silence of fear.
"He shouldn't be here," one of the lab supervisors muttered.
I tilted my head, my voice sugar-sweet. "You think you can make him leave?"
They shut up.
"He stays where he wants," I said. "And he wants to be here."
Nine didn't speak, but his fingers slipped around mine in my lap, weaving quietly between them. His thumb brushed the side of my ring finger. Just once.
"Still not scared of me?" I asked through the bond, half a smile tugging at my mouth.
"No," he answered softly. "They are."
He was right.
I dismissed the meeting not long after that, delegating tasks with clipped efficiency. I wanted the entire archive of WRAITH project data on my desk in twenty-four hours. I didn't care if the labs had to burn to the ground to retrieve it.
When the last one finally left, the door shutting with a meek little click, I let my shoulders drop. I hadn't even realized how stiff I was.
Nine didn't move.
"I didn't think you'd come over," I murmured.
He tilted his head, pressing his cheek more snugly into the dip where my neck met my shoulder.
"I didn't like them," he said simply.
I smiled. "I don't either."
His hand moved to my shoulder, palm resting there like he wasn't sure if he was holding me or letting me hold him.
"Does it bother you?" I asked. "When I talk to them like that?"
He was quiet for a moment.
Then, softly, "No. You sound like someone who won."
Nyx stirred, warm and pleased.
He wasn't wrong. But I didn't feel like I'd won anything. Not really. I had power, yes. But I also had blood on my hands. And Nine—curled in my lap, small in ways I hadn't let myself see before—was the reminder of what it had cost.
"You're allowed to do that, you know," I murmured silently, brushing his hair from his face. "Come to me whenever."
He didn't answer with words. Just a soft sigh. A settling.
The bite on his neck—my mark—faintly glowed beneath his hair, no longer hidden, no longer suppressed. A quiet promise, not a claim.
They could look at him all they wanted.
But they'd never touch him again.