We didn't sleep.
Nine curled into me like something feral and trembling, and I didn't ask him to let go. I kept my arms around him, murmuring soft things into his hair, even when my throat hurt from how many lies it took to keep him still. It didn't matter. He needed something to hold onto. Even if it was me—especially if it was me.
His breathing would slow for minutes at a time, lulled by the scent of our bond, only to stutter again with a whimper or a gasp. Once, he jolted upright and clawed at the collar that wasn't there, his mouth shaping silent pleas before his eyes finally found mine in the dark. "I thought—I thought he was coming back."
I didn't ask who he meant. I knew. And it was worse than any nightmare I'd ever imagined for him.
He was supposed to be numb. Supposed to be used to this. Conditioned.
But this—this fear wasn't trained. This was survival instinct. Raw and wrong. The kind that lingered when even instinct begged to die.
I held him tighter, my fingers curling gently into his hair, tugging him closer.
When the clock on the wall blinked past four, I realized neither of us would sleep. My hand smoothed down his back on its own, my voice quiet and far away as I said, "Do you want to hear a story?"
He nodded against my chest, his voice too broken to form words.
I took a breath.
"They say the last Supreme Leader ruled for decades. Longer than anyone before him. He controlled the territories with an iron grip—no one dared question him. Not the military. Not the scientists. Not even the wolves. He had a way of sniffing out disloyalty before it was spoken aloud. One whisper of betrayal and people vanished."
Nine didn't move. His breath hitched every so often, but he listened.
"No one thought he could be replaced. He was too paranoid. Too cruel. He built his own private fortress. Had hundreds of guards. Rotated his food tasters hourly. But then—this kid comes along. No pedigree. No legacy. Just smart. Patient. Unassuming."
I closed my eyes.
"He didn't challenge the old leader outright. He didn't make speeches or lead a rebellion. He just waited. He served. Obeyed. Did everything right. Earned promotions. Gained trust. He played his part so well, the old Supreme Leader started calling him son."
My throat burned.
"And then one night, after nearly ten years at the old man's side, the boy asked to serve his meals personally. He'd never asked before. Just once, he said. As an honor."
I could feel Nine's heartbeat—shallow, uneven. His lashes were still wet.
"They say he poisoned him. Just a drop. Something old and forgotten. Not the kind that made you writhe or scream—no. Just enough to stop the heart. Fast. Clean. But he didn't leave right away. He sat there, watching the body cool. And when the guards found him in the morning, he didn't deny anything."
Nine's voice cracked. "What happened?"
I swallowed. "They made him Supreme Leader."
He flinched.
"Some say they were too afraid to oppose him. Others think he'd already eliminated everyone who might have spoken up. But he took the throne like it had always been meant for him. And then he started building new things. New laws. New soldiers. New creatures."
I didn't say his name. I didn't need to.
My hand found Nine's, smaller and trembling and still wrapped in the scars that facility had left him with. The bond between us pulsed faintly under my skin, wounded but still alive.
"I'm not like him," I said softly. "I won't wait decades. I won't play servant. I'll kill him in two weeks."
Nine stirred, looking up at me with tear-swollen eyes. His lip trembled like he didn't know how to believe me.
But he whispered anyway. "Promise?"
I nodded, brushing the damp hair from his forehead. "I promise."
He lay back down, and though his eyes stayed open, some small part of the fear loosened its grip. The way he tucked his face against my chest, like my heartbeat was safer than silence, nearly broke me in two.
We still didn't sleep.
But we stayed alive. Together.
And that would have to be enough—for now.