Page 43 of Anarchy Chained: Alpha Thomas

“Good. They have an implant in your brain. I know how this implant works, because I helped them develop it. I have one too. That’s how we get these abilities, Sadie. That’s how we have the powers we do. And if I do just the right things, if I pump you with just the right concoction… I can read your mind. We will be linked. Now,” he says, switching to matter-of-fact mode. “I can’t read most minds. And this stuff has some weird side effects. One being you can collect thoughts from dying people. It’s not a pretty side effect if you collect the wrong thoughts. Does that make sense?”

I nod in affirmation. But none of this makes any sense.

“There’s more. Things like…” He sighs. “Like corruption. Like I’m doing to you. Your mind can be hijacked. Just like mine.” He laughs. “But if you think you can hijack me the way I just did you, think again. No one has the formula for that particular chemical reaction. I made sure of that before we blew up the Prodigy School fifteen years ago. I injected Thomas with those drugs. Well”—he chuckles, as if this is funny—“I persuaded him, to put it simply.”

He is insane. He is fucking insane.

“But he went along and that’s all you need to know. He is incorruptible. I am incorruptible. I can make you incorruptible too.” More laughter. “But why would I? When I can link up to you and read your commands.”

His hand is back between my legs. Caressing me. Soothing me. I don’t want it to feel good, but I can’t help it. His touch is soft and my desire builds.

“We’re going to do this together, Sadie. Do you understand? We make a great team, you and I.”

“Thomas,” I say, breathless now, not because of the fear, but because of the way he’s still playing with my pussy.

“I’m. Not. Thomas,” he growls. His denial is animalistic. A threat. And he withdraws his hand from between my legs.

He is Thomas. How stupid does he think I am? I recognize his voice. It’s not exactly the same, but it’s him.

“OK,” I say. “I’m sorry. Just tell me what you want from me.” I don’t want him angry. I don’t want more slaps. I just want him to stop what he’s doing. Give me a chance to think about things.

“We’re a team now. Partners. You’re going to feed me information about your handlers at Prodigy and I’m going to use it to destroy them.”

“Fine,” I say, giving in. “I’ll help you. But I don’t want to be tied down. I don’t want to be blind. I’ll go along, I swear. I’ll help.”

He caresses my forehead with his hand, dragging sweat-soaked hair from my forehead. I can smell my sex on his fingers. “I know you will. Because you have no choice. I own your mind now. The drug I injected you with has you under my control. I can make you do things, Sadie. Would you like an example?”

“No,” I gasp. “I believe you.”

But his response is the jingle of his belt. The unzipping of his pants. The shuffling of a hand beneath fabric. And then the sound of a hand caressing a cock. Open your mouth prints across my field of vision.

I do open my mouth, but not for the reason he thinks. Except… the words fuck you aren’t what come out. Nothing comes out. I can’t speak. I can’t move. I can barely think, because the only thing I see is his command, blinking now, in bright letters. Flashing white, then red, then white, then red.

Suck. My. Cock.

I wait for it. I wait for him to make me do this.

But he just laughs. “See,” he says, unable to hide his amusement. “I could make you do that, Sadie. I can make you do anything I want now.”

The words stop flashing and the control is released. My world is black again.

“But I won’t. Not yet.”

I can feel his smile. My body—which had stopped convulsing—begins to shiver again.

“Would you like to see me, sweet Sadie?” he asks. “Meet me? Finally? After all this time?”

I shake my head no. I really wouldn’t.

But he peels the tape off my eyelids, pulling gently on the tissue-paper thin, sensitive skin until my blinders are off.

“Open your eyes,” he says.

I shake my head again. No, no, no. This isn’t real. I’m not here. This is a nightmare. He’s some ghost. Some distant memory. I’m not here.

The red and white letters flash across my still-blackened blindness.

Open. Your. Eyes.