I dug deep inside myself, down to the core of discipline and control that had been forged through decades of leadership. I was the Prime. I was Vaktaire. I could maintain my composure.
I had to.
"No," I said again.
Riuondo's expression hardened. "So be it."
He pressed a control, and the neural stimulator engaged.
Cullen's body went rigid. His back arched against the restraints, every muscle locked in agony. His mouth opened in a silent scream—no sound at first, just the terrible sight of his face contorted in pain.
Then the sound came.
A raw, animal howl that tore through the chamber and straight into my soul.
Down the bond, I felt it. Not the full intensity—the bond didn't work quite that way—but enough. Enough to know that every nerve in his body was on fire. Enough to feel the echo of agony rippling through our connection like shockwaves and the slamming of his heart in his chest.
My own body jerked in response. The restraints held me in place, but I couldn't stop the involuntary reaction. Couldn't stop the way my heart raced, the way my breath came in pained gasps.
I had ordered executions without flinching. Had watched soldiers die under my command and maintained the cold calculation necessary to lead. Had made decisions that condemned thousands to save millions, and I had done it with steady hands and a clear voice.
But this was different.
This was Cullen.
My mate.
The control I'd spent a lifetime building—the iron discipline that had carried me through wars and political machinations, through betrayals and impossible choices—it shattered like glass. Not slowly, not with warning. Just... gone.
Because every scream that tore from his throat ripped through me with equal force. Every convulsion of his body echoed in mine via our synchronized heartbeat, I felt his pain like a phantom limb, like my own nerves were burning even though the stimulator wasn't touching me.
I had never felt so utterly, devastatingly helpless.
My vision blurred. My breath came in ragged sobs. The careful mask I wore as Prime—the one that had never slipped—crumbled to nothing.
This was the weakness Riuondo had been searching for. The one vulnerability I couldn't armor against.
"Stop!" I shouted. "Stop it!"
Riuondo didn't even look at me. He just watched Cullen with clinical interest, adjusting the controls to increase the intensity.
Cullen bellowed again. The sound was inhuman, stripped of everything but pure suffering.
I felt tears streaming down my face. Felt my carefully maintained composure cracking like ice under pressure. This was what Riuondo wanted—to see me break, to prove that even the Prime could be reduced to helplessness.
But I couldn't stop it. Couldn't stop the way my voice broke as I begged.
"Please. Please stop. I'll do anything. Just stop."
Riuondo finally looked at me. "Anything?"
"Yes. Anything."
He deactivated the stimulator.
Cullen slumped in the restraints, gasping. His body trembled violently, aftershocks of pain still coursing through him.
"That was level three," Riuondo said conversationally. "The device has ten levels. Shall we continue?"
