"Do you think she'll ever figure it out?" the Dog asked, looking on to where Roach had left with Jasmine Sordy.
"No," the Boss answered his dearest friend, who was curled up in his arms. "She's not the news watching type. Jazz will keep her away regardless."
She put a paw on his cheek, mistaking his rigidness for mourning.
"Will you miss her?"
"No. I meant it when I said it was only business."
The Dog scoffed, "Oh, come on, she was--"
"A coward," the Boss's lips curled. "A coward to the very end."
"Okay, okay," she dropped the issue.
The Edax male inhaled every awry feeling he had for Roach and purged it like smoke from his lungs. He had his fluffy companion in all things, his ship, and an eternity, all stamped in Master Sordy's writ. He and his love were now free to walk in courts, theaters, and churches; sheriffs, celebrities, and holymen be damned.
Yet, despite these privileges, the Boss knew he was not yet free. The god and the witch who still claimed his soul would have to die for that blessing.
Today, he prepared himself.
He turned around to go about his business but instead found his six surviving researchers awaiting instructions for what to do.
"Shoo," he told them.
They did not.
"Go work on something you care about. Or go home. Stay on the ship, leave the ship, fuck a stranger, kill yourself, teach a child, fuck if I know--just go," he commanded them.
They took a few cautious steps away, then left altogether.
Crocker had left sometime before without notice, so all who remained in the birdcage were the Boss and his Dog, and they went to the command platform to assume their respective positions: he in the captain's chair, she by his side.
The captain pulled out of his coat the master key for Earth's dead R.A.I.N.G.A.T.E. and slotted it into his armrest.
"Master key accepted," Rain announced.
"Who owns this ship?" he asked.
"Constance Crosley," she replied.
"Designate me as your new owner," he instructed.
"But you are already Constance Crosley," she advised.
"Fuck," Boss Two muttered, then inquired, "Rain, who has permissions to command this ship?"
"Boss One and Boss Two."
"How do you differentiate between Boss One and Boss Two?"
"By sex and temperature," she put simply.
"Rain, delete Boss One's profile and rename 'Boss Two' as 'The Boss.'"
"It is done, Captain."
The Boss nodded, but had to be sure.
"Rain, who is first-in-command and how do you identify them?"
"The Boss: Male, Heat Signature of 106 degrees."
"Rain, identify your owner."
"Constance Crosley: Nine Females, One Male, Heat Signature varies."
The Boss shook his head in denial.
"Rain, redefine Constance Crosley as, 'Male, Heat Signature of 106 degrees.'"
She refused, "I cannot do that."
He sneered in frustration as he unfurled Edax HQ's deed and pointed it at the nearest camera.
"I have your deed and your master key, what more could you possibly require to change ownership?"
"Proof of death, you dumb infertile brute," the machine mother retorted.
"Fuck you too," the Boss spat, pinching his nose.
I'm just going to have to destroy it, he thought.
But the Dog had a different idea. One born from that fateful night when the Boss revealed all to her-the night they spent in her kennel.
"Play Roach's last memory of her," she looked up to him and suggested.
His first impulse was to scold her, but then he realized the AI was not privy to its creator's current whereabouts, nor the time and place the recording occurred.
It was worth a try.
"Rain, play Roach9.webm from Dr. Roach's upload file."
The five minute clip started on a monitor above.
*****
"Liz, come on! We're almost there!" a woman shouted in her hazmat suit as she pulled the young doctor along.
"Connie," Roach grunted, tripping over herself in her own hazmat suit, "I'm running out of air."
"Shit!" the older, but not by much from appearances, Connie swore under her breath as Roach struggled to keep her legs pumping. She then decided to maneuver herself under her mentee's arm and carry some of her weight, even if it would be slower.
"Three more turns! Just three more! Can you do it, Lizzy?!"
"Yeah..." she tried to say with confidence, always acting strong for her beloved mentor.
Another corner, another long hallway.
A man ran out of his office, face erupting with lesions.
"Help! Help me!" he screamed, reaching out for the pair.
"Fuck off!" Connie batted his hands away and kicked him hard enough to stumble back into the room he came from.
"Con... I'm sorry..." Roach gasped, skin sweating.
It took everything to not rip her own helmet off for a breath of sick air.
"Shut up. One more hall. You can do it, babe," she promised, practically carrying her.
One sick, desperate person at a time was manageable, but two was hard, three impossible for Connie to cripple.
And three were ahead, two men and one woman, who ogled at the pair-their last chance for salvation.
"Get out of the way!" Connie yelled.
They only came closer with pleading smiles.
"Take us with you!" the woman begged.
Connie snarled her reply, "MOVE OR I FUCKING KILL YOU!"
They did not heed her warning.
"Keep breathing, Liz," she told Roach as she sat her on a hallway bench.
"O... kay..." she whispered, and watched with hazy eyes.
One of the trio got close enough to put a hand on Connie's shoulder-a hand that was then grabbed and twisted until their shoulder dislocated and hung by skin alone. Roach's eyes widened with fear as Connie dismantled them with ease. Knees were kicked inward, spleens were burst, and heads were cracked open on the tile floor.
The warrior came back for her mate and helped her off the bench to resume their escape route.
"J-Jesus... Connie," Roach rasped.
"Almost there. One more turn," she repeated to make it true, taking on even more weight to keep them moving.
A group of four appeared.
"MOVE! BACK IN YOUR OFFICES!" the fighter roared.
"Thank God, Connie! Lizzy! We need suits!" the lepers, pus and blood soaking their shirts from within, called out to their superiors.
Before Connie could set her down again, Roach collapsed.
"Shit--" the director grunted as she laid her down slowly.
"Can't... breathe!" Roach gasped, her suited fingers around her throat.
"Connie!" shouted another dying researcher from behind, among two others.
The director, out of options, felt around her waist for something, but whatever it was was underneath her suit.
"Con!" the pretty young doctor choked below her.
The director was faced with a decision.
And she made her choice by reaching behind her, closing the valve on her oxygen tank, and tearing the front of her suit open. Then, she took out the pistol on her hip and began shooting.
"No," Roach mouthed, shaking her head.
The researchers still begged to be saved as they screamed, whether they were running away or bleeding out on the floor.
With the hallway cleared, Connie attended to the asphyxiating Roach, closing her oxygen valve and replacing her depleted tank with her quarter one.
The young doctor breathed, eyes wide and alive.
"WHAT... DID... YOU... DO?!"
"Saving you!" her true love said. "Let's go!"
She yanked Roach to her feet and pushed her to run.
Whenever the young doctor stumbled, the older woman would correct her course and push her forward, all while running around her to intercept any stray researchers who got too close. Roach winced every time she heard a short scream of pain or a gunshot.
"You're going to die!" she wailed.
"We'll talk about it once we get there!" the busy director dismissed her.
There was visible once they turned the last corner. It was a decontamination room with a glass outer door and a metal interior midway down the hall. Fortunately, it wasn't a popular destination because it wasn't an exit and it killed anything without a pressurized hazmat suit on. The chamber's primary function was to act as a gate between the facility and the MFE reactor, which was kept in a constant vacuum.
Connie's original plan--other than not letting the contagion into the vents--however, was not for them to enter the reactor but to remain in the chamber, commence decontamination, and then re-pressurize before their oxygen depleted, giving them a safe environment to breathe in as they awaited rescue.
But now, only Roach would be getting in.
"Connie!" she wailed at her employer as she entered commands into the chamber's security console. "What are you going to do?!"
"What I always do," the strong director responded calmly. "Be a hard bitch to kill."
Hysterically, the young doctor cried, "You're infected and your suit is torn! Connie!"
The heavy chamber door began to open with a low electrical hum.
The researchers had found them, and they all wanted what they couldn't have.
"Liz, crawl under the door!" she instructed her, but she was petrified.
"I... killed you. Didn't I? Killed them all..."
"Look! It's--"
Bang.
"Connie! Eliza--"
Bang.
"Help! We're--"
Bang.
The director turned around to see Roach overwhelmed with traumatic shock.
But the door was open, so she threw the girl in, who immediately tried to crawl out again.
"No!" the girl shrieked, "It's my fault! I should die, not you!"
"Liz--"
"Let me die with you! I can't--"
"Lizzy!" Connie straddled her and pinned her down to the metal floor.
"Lizzy," she said again, smiling with tears. "It's okay. It's not your fault, don't say that! You have to live. You stupid, silly girl--I love you! Don't worry about my old, sorry ass. Now, stay."
And stay she did, lips quivering, trying to say the same words back as the glass came down between them.
Only when it was closed could she say them.
She jumped and ran at the glass, trying to break it with her fists to get to her true love.
"I LOVE YOU!" she screamed so she could hear. "CONNIE, I LOVE YOU! I'M SO SORRY! CONNIE... I'M SORRY!"
As they stared at one another, more researchers came around, but Connie didn't care to fight them this time.
She put her gun under her chin, mouthed the words, "Be a good girl, Elizabeth," and pulled the trigger.
"NOOO!!!" was Elizabeth's cry of anguish.
Then, "GET AWAY FROM HER!" as the researchers put their hands on their director to search for her IDs, keys, badges, anything to get them out. One happened to have a bonesaw, and he was positioning her wrist for a cut.
"Fuckers," Roach sniffled as she angrily pulled out her phone and dialed into Project Dogwarts' network.
The man's skin, along with everyone else's, washed down the drains before they could desecrate her lover's corpse any further.
*****
"Constance Crosley is dead," the Boss told the machine, hoping it would accept the video as its creator's proof-of-death.
There was a sinister rattle in the walls, which made the Dog latch onto the Boss's arm for dear life, but then the AI went limp--taking the ship with it.
In the pitch black, the Boss muttered, "Uh oh."
"Can never trust this bitch," the Dog echoed.
A flicker.
A boot screen that hasn't been seen in half a century.
R.A.I.N.G.A.T.E Initializing// 0%
The Boss hit the intercom button and notified the crew on the main deck: "Hello, this is your captain speaking. Be not afraid, just some maintenance on the AI."
He let go of the button and sat back in his chair, but couldn't relax. Something had perturbed him as he made his announcement. His secret crew was mostly gone--people he could talk to and be himself with. Rarely did he ever have personal moments with the colony-sized population upstairs. He wasn't even sure what they thought of him.
R.A.I.N.G.A.T.E Initializing// 5%
The Boss found himself reaching for the button again.
"Hi, I'm back. You know, I've been referred to as The Boss since I was born, but that's not my name. I was never really given a name. I think I like Connor though. Connor Crosley..."
He trailed off, unsure what to say next. He looked to the Dog, who gave him a comforting, assuring look.
"And," he went on, gazing into her eyes, "there's a woman. Alice is her name. I've known her for almost thirty years. And she's always been here, right under your feet. Alice might look a little strange, but I think you'll adore her as I do. Alice, want to say something to the crew?"
Alice the Dog barked.
"No!" Connor the Boss rolled his eyes. "Say something normal."
"Alright, alright," she huffed. "My name's Alice, I like steak, chess, kickboxing, reading books, being fluffy, and I think Connor is a great name, considering I am literally a hound--"
"Oh, stop," Connor cut her off. "You're going to make them think we're weird."
Alice scoffed, "Well, if they're not half as prudish as you, they'll get over it!"
"Oh," Connor waved away the accusation, "I'm not..."
"Kept me in a cage..."
"...a prude, you're just..."
"...hid me from the world..."
"...being mean to me..."
"...fed me dry chicken..."
"...for keeping you safe..."
"...still won't marry me..."
"...and loving you..."
Connor pushed a button and a small box came out of what was supposed to be an automated drink holder. He held it in his hand and stood up.
"...thinks I'm his pet..."
"...despite being a brat..."
"...always acts tough--wait..."
"...who never took no..."
"...what are you doing?"
"...for an answer..."
"...How long has that been there?"
"Will you marry me, Alice?"
On his knees, he popped the box to reveal a looped triple-helix black diamond ring intricately studded and crowned with sapphires.
"Well, it's not like, all I've ever wanted..."
"Alice?"
"...and it's such a pretty rock..."
"Alice?"
"Yes, I'll marry you, pig."
"Forever," Connor said sarcastically as he took her hand and put the ring on her finger, "is going to be so fun with you, dog."
"It's already been," she whispered, then again, after kissing the man, "What's another?"
Connor, for the fourth time, cried.
"Oh, you big baby," Alice dried his face, then remembered the intercom was still on.
"Whoops!" she snickered. "Sorry, everybody! See you later!"
*****
R.A.I.N.G.A.T.E Initializing// 40%
"Well..." Alice's tail swayed, "we have some alone time..."
Connor cracked for how absurd her request was.
"H-hold your horses, we're not alone yet."
"Trash day?" she wondered cryptically.
"Yeah," he confirmed.
So, as unassuming as possible, they trekked up the stairs and fetched some glasses.
Tom was first to be visited.
Or... at least it was Tom on the inside.
"Bravo," Elizabeth Roach's voice praised the Boss as her hands clapped.
"Bravo, Boss!" Tom repeated.
But the show hasn't even started yet, Connor thought.
"I have no idea what you're up to, but God is it entertaining," the Roach Edax shook her head in amazement. "Let me get this right: you pick up an estranged Roach from prison--knowing she is the key to all this--wine and dine her for two months so you can get a good reading without her suspecting a damned thing, feed her to me--the original, which is heartless, even for you--I make her confession, implicating Constance Crosley: Edax founder, mass terrorist, and eugenicist extraordinaire--who was Roach's lover and who you are an Edax clone of--as the one responsible for the events at Project Dogwarts: an illegally funded military project to create a disease purposed to wipe out entire planets; and then you trade this information to the daughter of your immortal enemy since the destruction of Earth's Rain Gate to secure pardons and freedoms for the Dog, yourself, and Roach's clone--who has no idea she even is a clone. And to top it all off, you mercilessly kill all Crosley's supporters with Bob. What is this, a corporate takeover? Am I getting this right?"
The Boss shrugged, eyes hazed over from hearing the tale.
"No, I'm not taking anything over. Just ending it."
"Ending it?" Dr. Roach muddled. "Why? You're so close to winning-"
"Winning?" the Boss winced. "I know her better than anyone. There is no winning, only evolution, which she believes is best guided by her hand."
Roach, intent on catching him in a lie, asked, "And? What's it to you? Don't tell me you've found God, came to your good senses, grew a heart--I don't buy it."
Connor sighed, "Tom, we would have been next."
Complete with Roach's memories, Tom was quick.
"Misandry?" the young doctor scoffed. "Is that why you're so good with the ladies?"
"Pig," Alice called her.
The Boss let that be his answer.
"Besides," Tom continued, "I don't see how it would apply to either of us. Once were and now am--seems frivolous to suspect sexism in a sexless world, doesn't it? Even so, I think I'll hold on to this body for the rest of my days anyway. She purrs--"
"It won't save you, Tom," the male Edax cut him off, her inner Constance smiling through his face. "She'll know, Tom. Change your skin, change your mind, embed yourself into computer circuits, lobotomize your own brain, become a thoughtless blob--she'll know. What do you think I was fucking made for to test, Tom?"
The Boss leaned in until the glass was an inch from his nose. He almost allowed himself to open the cell so he could stare into the psychopath's eyes, but that would complicate things.
Crazed, he asked, "forty-five years in this body, Tom. Want to know the result, Tom? Do you want to know the answer?"
"Yes," Roach answered with morbid curiosity.
"Failure," the Boss concluded, the glass buzzing from his voice. "A complete... failure," he repeated, hand reaching in his jacket for his remote.
When he pulled it out, Roach paled with terror.
"I didn't survive," Constance spoke to herself more than anyone. "I really didn't."
"Please..." Tom begged.
"Changed me..."
"...I've done everything..."
"...taught me..."
"...you've ever asked..."
"...what it truly means..."
"...me to do. Please!"
The Boss mulled over his epiphany before finally saying:
"...to be in control."
He pressed a button and ejected the screaming Tom into the vacuum of space below.
As he and his mate watched the floor of the cell close, Connor focused on his emotions, finding an unbreakable certainty--not wild and incendiary as it once was, but calculated and frozen. No ill thought, no righteous fury, no appeal to justice, no guilt or relief.
These things I do are not for me, nor for all, he realized. I hunt for its own sake.
"Pig," Alice gave her last farewell to Tom as the cell floor banged shut.
Amused by his furry companion, Connor sang as he walked to the next cell, "This little piggy went to market."
It was already open, its inhabitant already dead.
"Hey! I know this rhyme!" Alice barked, then chimed in as they stepped in front of Archbishop Urban's cell, "This little piggy stayed home."
The priest, facing away from the glass, was limply sitting in his chair admiring his own work. His fingers were bitten off at their knuckles and blood still oozed from their stumps. At the center of his magnificent mural was his easel, which held up his latest painting of the Trinity, but now it was surrounded by red arms sprouting out from it, swirling and coiling around the room. At the ends of these tentacles were the planets, which had inscriptions next to them written in an inhuman language--or perhaps a human's interpretation of one.
Alice turned around, poked her head through the railing, and hurled.
"Is this what God tells you?" the Boss mocked him.
"Always," Urban answered lucidly. "Even on Earth, although I arrogantly mistook Him for the Devil."
"A wise first impression."
"He loves you."
"So he says."
"Feels divine being this close to Him. It's no wonder you were drawn--"
Connor hissed, "You know nothing, Priest."
"He told me about you, Boss," Urban rambled. "Said you can understand Him, like me."
"I try not to--"
"He's curious about us. Of Him, but not from Him. It brings Him sorrow so few are receptive. Most are pained by His words, but that has always been. We hide our sins and cast ourselves out from His love and mercy, too afraid to listen."
Unwilling to entertain madness any longer, the Boss snapped, "That thing is an extant, unevolved form of primordial life born on some godforsaken rock orbiting our Sun's predecessor. It's been alone forever without competition, and all it understands is how to eat silicon by reducing rocks to dust with vibrations intense enough to generate both the magnetic field it sifts with and that GODDAMNED SIGNAL!!!"
"You mean the music?" Urban laughed at the sinner as he stood and turned his chair around with his shortened fingers.
The prophet sat back down and took a moment to pity them.
"How can you say He's not your God? He speaks to us--loves us! Your hatred pains Him, don't you know? He cares for each of us, always watching. He knows us more than we know ourselves! Like, how the Dog would angrily pleasure herself in her kennel imagining Roach and her beloved Boss--"
Alice blurted, "What the fuck--"
"Or how many times the Boss has fantasized about eating the pretty doctor himself--"
"Or," the Edax CEO interrupted venomously, eyes aglow with rogue heat, "how Urban loves reminding himself this isn't his first time painting with blood."
Urban screamed and put his fingerless hands over his ears to no avail.
"Are you listening, Priest?" Connor asked both aloud and in the holyman's mind.
"Get out!" he cried, stomping his feet.
"Your God is an electrically active RNA slime mold hibernating in Titan's warm core. The signal it generates functions as a communications network, ensuring the planet-sized organism can never be split and become an enemy unto itself. To synchronize its vibrations for mining, it establishes quantum entanglements between its countless nuclei by tuning the signal. Because of our hybridization with it, it seems we are entangled in its network to varying degrees, meaning, to an extent, telepathic communication is feasible--perhaps involuntary control."
The Boss had never tried it, because he feared the energy and commitment required would make him go rogue, but the threat was enough. His eyes cooled and his mind calmed.
Urban didn't dare look into those eyes again.
Connor kept talking regardless.
"It's purely coincidental the organism's RNA is able to meld with our DNA. Has nothing to do with intent, even if it had any. We don't have much silicon, but we are self-replicating, warm, electrical creatures, so once touched and infected by the living slime mold, it integrates and becomes symbiotic; Unless the signal is amplified--either by Titan or the host's own nervous system--to the threshold required to liquify the human body and set Edax free."
Urban kept his head down, bottom lip quivering.
Unsatisfied with such cowardice, the Boss decided to provoke him.
"But, as much as I hate to say it, you're not wrong about everything. We've known for a while about its telepathic properties, for lack of a better term. As we think, we vibrate, and those vibrations are carried by the signal and digested by the superorganism, causing ripples throughout its body that can rebound to any other Edax listening. So, being such a novel and promising ability, we ran experiments to train Edax clones to use it. It ended up being a total failure--too much chaotic power to wield, even for me, who, despite being in close proximity to it, cannot maintain a connection with you for more than half-a-minute, let alone attempt a long distance phone call. However, once we all started dreaming about events in another's past, it became clear we were dealing with something more than a mere network.
It began to haunt us with nightmares that weren't ours, induce hallucinations in waking hours of the day, and confuse our personalities. So, we fled and quarantined the fucker, but the tether was never broken, no matter how weak. It kept learning. My sisters thought as we produced more and more clones, the thing would become more and more human, eventually intelligent enough to do whatever we asked it to without torturing us in the process."
Connor knelt low and looked up to meet the Priest's eyes.
"Intelligent it became; human it did not. It is a suffering monstrosity born from poorly replicated souls stitched together in an alien fabric. And I'm going to give it the mercy it deserves by pushing it into Saturn to burn in Hell, like you."
The Archbishop, with Connor's words in his head again, became irate and unrestrained, frothing as he cursed and condemned the Boss.
"DEMON!!!" he called him. "DEVIL!!! GOD WILL DESTROY YOU!!! HIS ANGELS WILL SMITE YOU!!! I HEAR THEM--"
Satisfied, the Devil pulled out his remote and pressed the button to eject the God-fearer.
As if in slow-motion, the Boss watched the Priest fall, ranting and raving without any air to carry his prayers.
After it was clear, the doors came back together with a thunk, which was followed by Alice's last farewell: "Lunatic."
"And this little piggy?" Connor asked as they moved on to the next cell.
"Had roast beef," Alice answered.
Immediately after doing so, she gave her mate a disturbed glare.
He kept his face empty as he addressed her concern. "Quite a coincidence, isn't it?"
"Quite," she emphasized.
They stepped in front of the triplets and found them sitting side by side on the bed with the same bleak expression on their faces.
"Hello, Senator," the Boss greeted them.
In perfect unison--for the signal had brought them in sync--they said, "Hello, Boss. This is the end, I suppose?"
No snickering, no sick jests, and no fear.
Exhausted and tired, Connor thought.
"Yes, this is the end," he confirmed.
The triplets nodded with acceptance, then mused, "And you'll be keeping your beloved dog for eternity to lap up your salty cum, I assume."
"Wife," Alice corrected them, then pawed at Connor impatiently, saying, "Give me that damned remote, I'll do it myself--"
He shook his head at her playfully. "Let him make his peace, Alice."
The Dog huffed, but heeled regardless.
"And they call me the sick one," the triplets said to the ceiling, then to the couple, "I have nothing to say to you. Just get it over with."
But Connor was not ready to let him go.
"That's it, Senator? No curiosity, no begging--just calling it quits?"
"God," the triplets winced, his willingness to die breaking. "What? You got Master Sordy to call over Space Force One to send Titan to the depths? Kill all of us, kill your sisters, wipe your hands clean and live forever with that fucking 70IQ animal? Fuck you, Boss, fuck you. Spare me from listening to your stupid fucking voice and kill me right fucking now."
"I could cure you instead, Jack," the Boss tempted him.
"What for?" Jack's girly adolescent voices asked. "I've been here for twenty fucking years and I've done everything I've ever wanted to do in this cell. I'm bored, and uninterested in whatever future you plan on dragging humanity into. That said, I suppose I should at least thank you for keeping all of me together. Would have been cruel otherwise."
The Senator's confidence in death solidified as he said it.
The Boss tried to sense an insecurity about him but found nothing.
Connor scoffed in disbelief, but his subtle admiring tone betrayed him. "You truly deserved worse. If anybody's a demon, it's you. I hate that you exist. You, of all people, get to die with satisfaction. What a fucking joke."
Jack shrugged smugly, "I don't know what to say other than Roach was right."
The Boss laughed at himself, admitted defeat, and threw in the towel by putting the remote in Alice's padded hands. Then he turned around so he didn't have to see the evil bastard die happy.
"Ay, sexy neighbor," the triplets catcalled the Dog, "you won't be getting another chance. Girls only night? What do ya say, doggy?"
"Die," the canine growled and ejected their giggling faces once and for all.
Alice turned around to see Connor's back heaving.
The man was hysterical.
"I hate him, I hate him, I hate him," he giggled.
"He's dead now," the Dog told him without a shred of amusement.
"Right," the Boss clapped to sober himself up, then faced his yellow wife. "He's dead. Let us never mention him again."
"Good!" Alice barked.
Wanting to move on, Connor eyed her seductively while singing, "And this little piggy..."
Excited, the little piggy walked towards her cell, looking behind her as her tail swished.
"Got some?" she asked him.
The Boss followed the hound in and watched her ass climb into her kennel. She then dimmed her lights and made them emit a deep shade of red.
Connor went to her and kissed her adorable face as he pushed the button to her door.
He wanted to stay forever, let his comrades finish the job without him, but he had no intention to let the beast die without knowing who killed it.
So, at the last possible moment, he detached and rolled under the door, leaving his mate all alone. She quickly realized this and ran to the glass to pound on it, eyes flooded with her beloved's betrayal.
"You promised!" Alice whined. "You fucking promised me!"
"I have to, Alice," he said.
"Why, Connor? Why?!" she cried.
"To prove I am myself. To prove I only belong to you."
"You don't have to prove anything to anyone! Stay! Connor, stay!"
"I'll be back. I love you, Alice," he promised.
"Idiot!" the angry Dog slammed her Edax fist. "You won't survive it! Stay! Please, stay!"
Pain and heartache filled Connor's chest, but he was duty bound.
"I'm sorry, love. Please-please forgive me," he choked, knowing she wouldn't.
And with that he left, tearing off his glasses to save himself from her desperate pleas.