Nine was still asleep when I slipped out of bed.
He hadn't even stirred when I eased my arm from under his head. Just let out a little breath and curled into the warm spot I'd left behind, as if his body trusted that I'd come back. I stood there for a minute, watching the faint rise and fall of his back. The sunlight spilled in through the sheer curtains, kissing his skin with gold.
I wanted to stay.
But there were things I needed to see. Promises I'd made—if only silently—to keep.
You're being dramatic again, Nyx said, her voice light, teasing.
You mean, responsible, I countered.
Ugh, even worse. You used to be fun, remember?
I rolled my eyes and stretched out my arms. I'm still fun.
Sure. If you consider paperwork, internal moral crises, and trauma cleanup "fun."
I do, I said sweetly. Now let me work.
Nyx huffed, but didn't argue.
The harem quarters were deeper in the eastern wing. I'd never been here before. The corridors were tiled with pale marble, the doors reinforced and thick. Still smelled like lavender and sterile sheets. There were no guards now. No need for them.
I let myself in.
The hybrids were awake. Some sitting cross-legged on beds, others brushing one another's hair in practiced silence. They all looked up when I entered—twenty pairs of eyes, wide and impossibly bright, trained on me with a kind of guarded stillness.
They were beautiful. Of course they were. Inhumanly so.
Long limbs, high cheekbones, silky hair in every shade imaginable. Their beauty was the kind that made your lungs forget how to expand for a second. But none of them smiled. None of them spoke.
And they were all female.
Nine had been the only male.
Of course he was, Nyx murmured. Something rare. Something for the Supreme Leader's personal collection.
No, I thought back. Not a collection. A possession.
Nyx growled softly at the back of my mind, low and bitter. We should've gutted him slower.
I didn't disagree.
One of the hybrids closest to the door stood up. Her hair was long and iridescent, eyes slanted like a cat's. Her voice, when she spoke, was melodic and oddly flat. "Are you here to reassign us?"
"No." I kept my voice level. "You're not being reassigned. You're not going back into rotation. You're not going back to anyone."
The words sat in the air like smoke.
Another girl, younger-looking, tilted her head. "Then what are we?"
"Free," I said, and it felt inadequate.
They exchanged glances. Some skeptical. Some confused. One started to cry quietly, hands trembling in her lap.
I sat down on the edge of the nearest bed. "Look. I don't know how to undo what's been done to you. I don't have a fix. But I can give you space. I can give you time. And I can promise no one will ever touch you again without your consent."
Nyx was silent for once. Watching. Feeling.
The hybrid with iridescent hair blinked. "We don't know what to do with freedom."
"That's okay," I said softly. "You'll learn."
Another girl—a redhead with curled lashes—lifted her chin. "Will we still be… useful?"
The word hit like a punch to the chest.
"You don't have to be anything," I told her. "Except alive."
Some of them started crying for real after that.
Not the loud, shattering kind of sobbing I'd seen in people who'd lost someone—but the quiet, broken kind. Like they'd never been allowed to make noise in the first place. It was the kind of crying that made you feel like an intruder for witnessing it.
I sat with them a while. Didn't touch. Didn't press. Just stayed there and let them know I wasn't going to leave.
You're trying, Nyx murmured eventually. Even if it's not enough. It's still something.
Thank you, I replied.
Don't get used to it.
I smiled faintly. Of course not.
Eventually, the tears slowed. The tension thinned. One of them—Del, I think she said her name was—offered me a little braid as a gift. I didn't say no.
When I finally stood to leave, they didn't thank me. And I didn't ask them to.
They didn't owe me anything. Least of all gratitude.
I stepped back into the hallway, fingers brushing the braid now tucked into my pocket.
You okay? Nyx asked.
No, I answered honestly. But I think we're going to be.