Page 8 of Rage

I clench my fists until the sting of my nails boring into my palms makes the memory of that dark hunger in AX2’s eyes wither away. I will be damned if I let anyone displace me from my own project. And it will be a cold day in hell before I allow AX2 to so much as think about dominating me in any way, shape, or form.

The lab containing AX2’s stasis chamber lies in shadows, only one overhead light illuminating the sprawling room. I pause when I see movement through the large window displaying the inside of my workplace. No one comes down here, apart from the cleaning crew, and I am diligent to only ever schedule them for when AX2 is out on a mission. I am the only one who enters this lab, except for five days a month when Dr. Green has to fill in for my own safety.

I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood.

Another flash of movement draws my attention, and I frown. AX2 paces between equipment and computers, his skin rippling over bulging muscles as he flexes his hands and rolls his head and shoulders. Normally he spends his waking hours within the confines of the stasis chamber, staring silently ahead hours on end. Orders to never touch any of the expensive equipment are embedded in his chip, but they have never been necessary.

Now, though—now the looks he throws at my main computer and the device I use to measure the flow of electricity between his brain and artificial body parts makes me think I’d have lost a few hundred thousand dollars’ worth of equipment without it.

Undoubtedly another side-effect of Dad’s insistence that we allow socialization.

Gritting my teeth, I swipe my access card over the small screen next to the door and push through the opening the second a green light flashes.

AX2 freezes at the sound of the door slamming shut behind me, the dilation of his pupils as he takes me in the only movement of his suddenly still body.

“You are agitated,” I say. An observation, not a question. “You will calm yourself. Immediately.”

He doesn’t respond, but his jaw ticks.

I narrow my eyes. It has been a very, very long time since AX2 has fought me in even the smallest of ways. “Do you need a reminder of who is in charge, AX2?”

There’s a long beat of silence as we stare each other down. Then, finally: “No, ma’am.”

His voice is a deep rumble, the anger in it nearly imperceptible. Nearly.

“Is there something you wish to get off your chest, soldier?” I arc my eyebrow, daring him to speak.

“Why did you take my memories?”

The question comes so immediately, it takes me by surprise. I blink once before I catch myself.

“The others—you let them keep theirs. Why did you take mine?” he presses, green eyes darkening further. Hatred. There is pure, unadulterated hatred in them, and it makes my heart pick up speed.

My body’s involuntary reaction to the unspoken threat of his strength only infuriates me further. But I am not a mere animal; I am better than that, better than him.

I retain my composure. The lie rolls smoothly off my tongue: “The condition you were found in, the circumstances… memories would not have been a boon for you. As it turns out, it has allowed you to focus on your missions far better than the rest of your class. Unfortunately, the survival rate was too low for the soldiers who followed you, so we had to adjust our methods.”

His eyes are still dark, the tension in his shoulders and bared chest speaking of the anger he is holding back. I set my jaw against the tremor in my gut—I may be cursed with the same instincts to surrender as every other woman or beta faced with a furious alpha, but I would rather die than submit.

Not that I will ever have to again, because here, in my lab, I’m the one in control.

“Kneel.”

He stares at me for a long second, this big, muscled brute. I know his stats by heart—he is 6’11” and 411 pounds of pure power, and of the many, many men he has killed in the past three years, 36 of them have been with his bare hands. He dwarfs me in every way. Every way… but one.

I give him a small smile as he lowers himself first on one knee, then the other, surrendering all that strength to me because I am the one with the real power.

I could have forced him to his knees with the chip—just one word, and his body is mine to command—but I don’t have to. Not anymore.

Even with my father’s idiotic interference, even after he’s been reminded of the biology that I have spent so long taming to obedience, AX2 still submits to my commands simply because I will it.

I walk toward him, every step controlled to show him how little impact his anger has on me, and stop right in front of his kneeling figure.

He stares blindly at my midsection, unmoving. His breathing is steady and silent. Uncowed.

Anger fizzes in my gut. I reach out without thought, wrapping my fingers around his chin to force his face up. The warmth of his skin is a shock to my system, but I temper the urge to recoil, gripping tighter instead. “Look at me.”

His green eyes flick up to meet mine, anger still darkening their depths.

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