Jasper had taken hold of this strangers hand. And now, here he was.

Minus the sound of their footsteps echoing down the seemingly endless halls, the silence between them felt tense and unbearable. He hated it. But he hated the thought of breaking it even more.

He kept his eyes down, jaw tight. He didn’t want to look at the man he was blindly following. Not after what had just happened. Not after running from him like an imbecile.

It wasn’t just the humiliation of being caught. It was the way this man had stripped him bare, peeled him down to something raw and exposed, seen him at his worst when no one else ever had. Not once. 

And what he had shown him…

A mix of anger and agony bubbled in his chest.

 After a stretch of silence, the man glanced back over his shoulder. “You’re quiet,” he said, tone dry.

Jasper didn’t answer.

More silence followed. Then the man gave a small, humorless laugh under his breath. It was barely audible, more breath than sound.

“You know,” he said, turning slightly to look at him, “most people would try to hide it better around me. The animosity.”

Jasper’s shoulders tensed. 

The man stopped walking altogether, then turned to face him. His posture relaxed, but there was nothing soft about him. Not his eyes. Not the way they tracked Jasper, like he was still deciding what to do with him.

He walked slowly toward him, like he had all the time in the world to take this apart piece by piece. When he was close enough to touch, he didn’t.

He stopped, his presence bending the space between them. Heat radiated from his body like a warning.

His intense gaze raked over Jasper’s face, pausing at his mouth.

“You’re angry,” he said quietly. “But that’s not the real problem, is it?”

He let the words hang.

The man tilted his head, his voice dropping into something lethal. “It’s not the fury burning you up. It’s the fact that I can see it.”

Jasper flinched slightly, hating how easily this man could read him.

“You’ve spent your whole life protected from your father’s lies, little prince. Controlled, really. But now?” His lips curled into a grin. “Now you’re all nerves and clenched fists, and you don’t know how to hide it.”

Jasper said nothing. He didn’t trust his voice. The words would come out wrong, too emotional, too desperate. And the man didn’t deserve another reaction from him. Instead, he gritted his teeth. 

He leaned in, too close, the proximity making Jasper’s heart race. He could feel the heat rising beneath his cheeks.

“I like you better like this,” he rumbled. “Stripped of all the lies you were raised to wear.”

Jasper’s breath caught, stopping a shiver. 

The man stepped back just a fraction, enough to study the flush on Jasper’s face, the tension in his jaw, the mix of emotions he knew he was wearing on his face right now. 

“You’re more honest when you’re angry,” he added. “More honest when you hate me and what I’ve done to you.”

Jasper met his gaze, trembling between fury and something he couldn’t quite place.

“But you decided to stay, Jasper. Not because I dragged you.” His eyes swept over him, almost predatory. “You chose to. And that makes it worse, doesn’t it?”

Jasper’s jaw clenched, but still he said nothing. How did he know exactly what he was thinking and feeling when he hadn’t said anything at all? Who was this wicked man?

It’s almost like he’s reading my…

“Damien.”

Mind.

“What?” Jasper’s voice cracked.

“My name. You wanted to know it.” The man smirked. It wasn't even a question. Just another reminder that this man saw straight through him.

Jasper stared at him, closer now.

His face really was dangerously attractive. Too bad he had to be a crazy, manipulative, kidnapping freak that Jasper currently loathed. 

He looked away, pissed off at himself for having such a stupid thought. He didn’t say anything in response, just glared.

Damien gave another quiet laugh, then he turned again and kept walking.

And Jasper followed, every step dragging with the truth. He’d chosen this. Whatever this was.

Finally, Damien stopped in front of a steel door and entered in a code.

The lock clicked.

He pushed it open to reveal a modest but livable room. A bed. A small desk. Folded clothes. Soft overhead lighting instead of harsh fluorescents. He assumed it even had a bathroom judging from the extra door attached to the room. It wasn’t luxury, but it was an undeniable step up from the dungeon Jasper had woken in.

Damien stepped aside. “It’s yours.”

Jasper hovered at the entrance. “So what is this?” he asked bitterly. “My upgraded prison cell?”

“You said you weren’t my prisoner.” A flicker of a smile ghosted across his lips, and Jasper hated how calm he sounded. Like this was all part of some game. He wanted to punch him right in his smug jaw.

Jasper turned slowly to face him.

“So,” he said, voice tight, “will I have to kill…my father or something?” He swallowed the lump in his throat.

Damien leaned against the wall, arms folded. His face unreadable again.

“No. You’re not here to be a soldier.” He took a long breath, as if weighing how much to say.

“You’ll go back. Publicly. Quietly. Reintegrate like nothing happened. We’ll give it time. Watch the patterns. You make sure the right doors are open when we move. That’s all.”

Jasper paused.

“That might be a bad idea,” he muttered, looking down at his feet. A part of himself might not be able to act one hundred percent around his father after what he’d found out. 

“It’s a dangerous idea,” Damien corrected. “There’s a difference." He pushed off the wall. “It’ll be fine. I wouldn’t put you in immediate danger.” He sounded almost kind. “After all, you’re no use to me dead.” Almost.

Jasper’s eyes moved back to him. “You sure seem calm about using me as the lure.”

“I’m not using you.” Damien walked toward him slowly, but not threateningly. “I’m offering you something you haven’t had since you were taken.”

He stopped a few feet away, his voice lowering.

“Freedom.”

Jasper blinked. “Is that what you call this? Locking me in a concrete box and throwing pictures of corpses at me?”

Damien didn’t waver. “That was truth. Ugly, necessary truth. And you stayed. Which means you’re not as naive as you were when you got here.”

Jasper flinched at that. The memories flooding back.

His eyes lingered on him. “Don’t worry. You won’t be thrown into the fire just yet. You need to be trained first.”

“Trained? I thought you said I’m not here to be a soldier.”

“You’re not. But you still need to understand what and who you’re going up against.” He gave Jasper a once over. “And you need to be able to defend yourself.”

Damien moved past him, sitting in the chair beside the desk. He tapped a tablet sitting on top of it and spun it toward Jasper without ceremony.

Images flicked across the screen. Surveillance footage, blueprints, coded names and dates. Jasper’s name was highlighted in a dozen files, each labeled, PROJECT ARGUS TIER 3 PROTECTED INDIVIDUAL.

“What is this?” Jasper asked, tension filling his voice.

“Your insurance policy,” Damien said. “Your father had you registered as a protected asset under Project Argus. Not out of love. Not even loyalty. You’re a piece of leverage he didn’t want to lose. But protection isn’t infallible. We found a way around it.”

Jasper stepped closer. “Why?”

Damien’s gaze moved up to meet his. “Because your father’s untouchable. But you aren’t. And if we’re going to destroy a man like that, we start by dismantling the illusion that anything he builds can’t be touched. You’re the only thing he didn’t account for being taken from him. That mistake? That blind spot? We exploit it.”

Jasper stared at the tablet, blood simmering just under his skin.

“How do I know you didn’t fake this? Forge it to turn me against him?”

Damien leaned forward, his voice soft like a quiet before a storm. “You don’t.”

That made Jasper look up immediately.

“I’m not here to convince you with propaganda,” Damien said. “I’m here to give you options. That’s more than your father ever gave anyone.”

Jasper didn’t know what to say to that. He still wasn’t ready to believe it. Not yet. But something had cracked open inside him, and it wasn’t going to close anytime soon.

He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed staring at the screen, at his father’s hidden world.

Damien rose, set the tablet neatly on the desk, and walked to the door. “I have matters to address. I’ll leave you with that.”

Jasper hesitated. “What is…Project Argus?”

He paused at the question. “You’re tired. Sleep. We’ll talk again tomorrow.” He turned slightly. “Also, you’re free to roam about as you please.” A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Just don’t get too lost.”

He might have been smiling, but there was something else there. Like he was laying bait, curious to see which trap Jasper might step into first. 

And just like that, Damien left. 

Jasper’s eyes washed over the room again and landed on the desk. The tablet was still there, sitting in plain sight, practically inviting him to touch it.

He glanced around, half expecting to catch a camera mockingly trained on him. But there wasn’t one. Still, he kept staring at the tablet like it might grow legs and lunge at him.

This had to be another test. That insane man always seemed ten steps ahead, and Jasper wasn’t going to fall for it. Not this time.

He sat back down on the mattress. It was definitely more comfortable than the last one, if that even counted as a bed.

A heavy sigh escaped him as the weight of everything crashed down all at once. Raw emotions, an unbearable reality, and the gnawing uncertainty of what came next. Now that he was alone, it all hit harder.

Eventually, he lay down. Loose tears slipped quietly from his eyes. Sleep found him fast, too fast, and pulled him under.