Atlas left the room. Went to the bathroom. Threw up.
He'd just—he'd just done that. Tested her like a machine. Made her c*m on command while she stared at nothing.
Used her body while her mind was gone.
For Dante. To make sure Dante could do the same.
He washed his hands. His face. Couldn't wash away what he'd done.
Isabella found him there. "You did well."
"I raped her."
"You tested her function. There's a difference."
"There's no f*****g difference!" Atlas slammed his hand against the wall. "I touched her. Made her—she couldn't consent. Couldn't choose. That's rape."
"She's not capable of consent. Not in any meaningful way. She's a tool being calibrated." Isabella's voice was matter-of-fact. "And thanks to your test, we know she won't break when Dante uses her. That's mercy, Atl
