Terms of Surrender

Reconnaissance and Hunger: Tess

When I’d first arrived at Whitmore Terra Acquisitions, I’d had to leave my phone with reception. A security protocol that was outlined in the NDA of my contract. I had my luggage, but my laptop appeared to have been either left in my hotel, or simply taken. I had zero access to the outside world, nor didI have the ability to research any of Darian’s claims. Regardless, I had a feeling that nothing would come up through typical search engines anyways.

The east wing was massive, with more doors down the long hallway. It felt more like a corridor. I hoped that maybe there was a library of some kind in the penthouse where I could find more information about whatever the “Silvercrest Pack” was.

For now, I stuck to what I had in front of me. I went back through the financial records with a highlighter. All of the strange land purchases had the note “SCP.” Silvercrest Pack. I was sure of it. My mind continued to race. If this group “controls the city,” their power structure must have been massive and hidden behind Darian’s company. I swallowed as I came to plausible and terrifying explanations for his wealth and power: organized crime, a shadow government, the mafia…

I took a deep breath, trying to recenter myself, and not think about the fact that he probably knew everything about me before I ever even signed the contract for the audit. I felt a hunger pang twisting my stomach, and remembered that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. According to the clock on the nightstand, it was after ten now. I couldn’t fight Darian on an empty stomach, but I could eat on my terms rather than his.

I moved silently through the penthouse, creeping down the hall on the tips of my toes like I did when I’d sneak cookies from my grandma’s kitchen as a child. The penthouse was dark and vast. City lights streamed through the windows, casting the common area in shadows. I didn’t see any cameras as I snuck my way through to the kitchen, but I was certain I was being watched. I was sure, in some way or another, Darian was aware of where I was and what I was doing.

I didn’t bother to turn on any lights in the kitchen though. I found my way with my hands in front of me, determined to find something quick and easy that didn’t need to be prepared. I found the pantry, and with the door closed behind me, risked the lights.

It was primarily filled with staples, things used for actual cooking: flour, sugar, rice, dry beans, etc. There was a broom and a mop to my back. Paper towels were on the top shelf. My eye caught a box of protein bars though. I took the whole thing, not caring if he noticed they were missing later. I flipped the light off before stepping into the kitchen again.

Back in the bedroom - I’m reluctant to refer to it as mine - I stashed the box of protein bars in the top drawer of the dresser, but not before taking two for right now. I peeled the wrapper off the first one as I sat at the desk again, reviewing my notes with fresh eyes. Three words kept cycling through my head: Alpha. Pack. Territory. I was certain my kidnapping wasn’t about money, it was about politics. I just wasn’t sure how I played into it. I didn’t understand what this “mate bond” meant, or why I had been chosen for this.

While I are, I continued connecting the dots on my notepad, writing the thoughts as they occurred. I finished the two protein bars and threw the wrappers away in the bathroom’s waste basket. My earlier thought about hoping for a library returned, and I realized that Darian did tell me the east wing was mine. So as far as I was concerned, I had the right to explore it.

The first door I opened was a linen closet. There were additional towels and wash cloths in it, not just the ones the bathroom was already stocked in. There were also extra sheets and blankets folded up and organized neatly on the shelves.

The next door opened into a large room. The walls were lined with bookshelves. A large mahogany desk was centered in front of the equally large window. A high-back leather chair was positioned behind it, matching the leather sofa and chairs in the center of the room. A low coffee table was placed in front of the furniture.

I focused on the books first, not believing Darian would leave any kind of important paperwork in a desk that I’d have such easy access to. The books were not standard finance or business, or even history. They were old, leather-bound, and looked as if they focused on mythology, folklore, and regional history. This wasn’t a CEO’s library, it was a collector’s. The titles were strange, Legends of the Silver Peak and Clans of the Western Frontier. I pulled one from the shelf, turning it over in my hands before flipping through the pages. Phrases like “myths of transformation,” “moon cycles,” and “ancient protectors” stood out against the stark white pages.

As I pulled more books from the shelves, a new thought started to form. Darian wasn’t a part of the mafia or the leader of some crime syndicate. I’d gotten mixed up in a cult built on an archaic belief system that controled vast wealth, and Darian believed he was a tribal leader.

I placed each book back on the shelf. He’d already proven I had no way out, and he trusted the security of the penthouse enough to leave me here alone. Tomorrow, I would study the books more in depth. For the rest of tonight though, I decided to return to the bedroom. I would attempt to sleep. He wanted me to believe I was vital to his tribe’s survival, fine. I would play the role of the revered asset until I found the weakness in his folklore.

Before I crawled into the bed, I turned to a fresh page in my notebook. I had to update my notes, integrating new data, my new hypothesis. Alpha = Leader. Pack = Tribe/Cult. Mate Bond = Political Marriage/Requirement for Leadership. Silvercrest Pack = The Name of an Ancient Cult.

Even as I got into the comfortable bed, my body remained on high alert. I felt as if my senses were hyper-tuned to the Penthouse, listening for any creak. Any sign of movement from Darian. The silence felt more terrifying than the thought of being able to hear him.

Despite my resolve, I was running on adrenaline and exhaustion. Every time I drifted towards sleep, the anxiety jolted me awake. I closed my eyes and all I could see was Darian’s face when we were in the meeting room. The flash of his liquid metal eyes and the low, guttural sounds he made replayed in my head. Even with the cult theory, the primal terror of a monster still lingered just below the surface.

In order to find sleep, I had to focus on my next steps. I had to make a plan. Tomorrow, I would ask him about the land. I would use the audit notes to prove that I’m intelligent enough to be a valued partner, and therefore too useful to harm.

At some point in the night, I was pulled into that space in between sleep and wakefulness. The air in the room suddenly felt thicker, heavier, warmer. Even asleep, my senses screamed that Darian was near. He was close. Too close. I was fully awake now, but I kept my eyes closed. I feigned deep sleep, my face a mask of calm, presenting him with the guise of a compliant prisoner.

Slow, heavy footsteps crossed the carpet towards the bed. I forced my breath to be shallow and rhythmic. I could feel my anxiety threatening to spike, I begged my heartbeat to stay calm. The spiced pomegranate scent was overpowering now.

He stopped right beside the bed. The sheer heat radiating from his body was suffocating. I had to fight the urge to instinctively pull away. I focused on keeping the rhythm of my frantic heart slow and steady.

A warm, heavy weight settled on my shoulder. It’s a controlling touch, possessive, yet somehow oddly gentle. A test. His voice was a low, rough murmur, barely audible, yet vibrating straight through me. “Sleep, my Luna.”

The hand lifted. A moment later, the footsteps receded. I heard the soft shut of the door, and the sound released the tension I was holding. I finally took a deep, shaky breath, but otherwise remained perfectly still in the dark. I survived the inspection. He was a predator who thought he was a protector, and he had given me more data to research: Luna.