The Pact

Elias Virellian smiled, fingers tapping lazily against the obsidian table. "Let's make this simple," he murmured. "Each of us is bound by our families, our futures decided before we even have a say. But what if we weren't? What if, right here, right now, we took control of our own fate?"

The Virellians were known for their long games, their influence woven through the bureaucratic and intelligence networks of the Confederacy. If Elias was saying this, it was because someone had let him.

Orion's fingers brushed the table's surface, his thoughts racing.

Ares Petrosyan frowned, arms crossed. "That's a bold claim. What are you actually suggesting?"

Elias leaned forward slightly. "A pact. One of us rises as the Apex, and the others pledge their loyalty."

Carefully measured words, designed to sound revolutionary—but Orion knew better. No heir, no matter how ambitious, could propose something like this alone. This wasn't reckless arrogance.

The room fell into silence.

Orion almost laughed.

Not because it was absurd—though it was—but because the idea itself was impossible. No family would allow their heir to make such an oath. Even if they did, no one here could be trusted to uphold it.

Orion glanced at Nyra as she started speaking. She was older than the rest of them—perhaps six or seven years. Clad in sleek, dark fabric that shimmered under the dim lights, she moved with deliberate control. Her gaze swept the room, sharp and assessing.

Her gloves, lined with fine mesh circuitry, gleamed as she removed them. When she spoke, her voice was smooth. "I assume none of you actually believe in this farce."

Elias smiled, unfazed. "Skepticism is healthy."

Nyra studied him. Then, in one fluid motion, she retrieved a small vial from her belt and placed it on the table.

A translucent liquid.

Orion didn't need to be told what it was.

Nanotoxins.

Silent, undetectable—capable of lying dormant in the bloodstream until activated.

A reminder that promises made here were backed not by words but by leverage.

Renata Von Hadris exhaled quietly. Ares' jaw tightened. Even Ingrid, usually unreadable, tensed just slightly.

Orion's mind worked quickly. Who benefits from this?

It wasn't Elias—not entirely. He was playing his role, but the true architects of this weren't in the room. This wasn't the reckless ambition of children grasping at power.

Someone—perhaps in the Virellian or Zey'ran hierarchy—had orchestrated this meeting.

But why?

Nyra tilted her head. "Well?"

Elias didn't answer immediately. He simply smiled, fingers still tapping against the obsidian. "We all know what's at stake," he murmured. "The question isn't whether we trust each other."

His gaze met Orion's. "The question is whether we trust ourselves."

The challenge had been laid.

And Orion, for the first time, wondered if he was the only one in this room who saw the real game being played.

Nyra's fingers tapped against the vial, the faint clink echoing in the silent chamber. She let the moment stretch, the weight of unspoken challenges pressing against them all.

Then, she spoke.

"If this is truly about loyalty, then let's make it real."

With practiced ease, she unlatched the vial, tilting it just enough for a single drop of the translucent liquid to shimmer against the dim light. "This is a dormant nanotoxin, engineered to bind to the nervous system. It does nothing—until activated."

Ares scoffed. "That's insanity."

Nyra's expression didn't change. "No, it's assurance."

Elias leaned forward slightly, curiosity dancing in his gaze. "And how would one… activate it?"

Nyra smiled then, a slow, knowing curve of her lips. "That's the beauty of it," she murmured. "Only the Apex would have the trigger. A simple neural command, and—" she snapped her fingers, the sound sharp. "—betrayal is erased."

Orion felt the undercurrent of tension shift. This wasn't just a test of loyalty—it was a trap.

No one here could make this choice. Not truly. Their families would never allow it. Accepting meant placing their lives in the hands of a future enemy. Rejecting meant those who accepted would eliminate those who didn't.

It was a brilliant maneuver.

Which meant only one thing—neither Nyra nor Elias had come up with it.

Orion exhaled slowly, allowing a flicker of amusement to touch his lips. "If you don't take the nanotoxin, you obviously become a target and get eliminated. Refusing isn't an option because it marks you as an immediate threat," he said, finally breaking the silence. "A clever trap—and yet, flawed."

Nyra raised a brow. "Oh?"

Orion gestured lazily to the vial. "We're meant to swear loyalty, but the moment one of us becomes the Apex, the others cease to be allies. They become liabilities." He let his gaze sweep across the room. "Tell me, do you truly expect Ares to allow someone like Elias to hold his life in their hands? Or for Ingrid to trust that Renata won't flip the moment the tides shift?"

Ares gritted his teeth but didn't deny it.

Orion pressed on. "The moment we take this, we're no longer potential allies. We're hostages." He leaned back. "So tell me, Nyra—why would I agree to a leash?"

Nyra's smile didn't fade, but something in her eyes sharpened. The trap had been called out, but the game wasn't over yet.

Orion let the weight of his words settle before continuing. His voice was measured, calm—but laced with quiet derision. "You want us to believe this is about ensuring loyalty. But in reality? It's about control."

His gaze flicked to Nyra. "Tell me, cousin, who really gains from this? The Apex? The so-called pact members?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "No. The only ones who benefit are the ones who orchestrated it. And yet, none of you have even questioned who that might be."

Nyra's fingers tensed against the vial. The others exchanged glances, uncertainty creeping into their expressions.

Orion continued. "And let's not forget the most obvious flaw." His eyes gleamed as he leaned in. "The antidote."

Nyra remained expressionless, but he could see the slight shift in her posture.

"And let me guess—you, of course, would say something like 'the antidote will be distributed so that each of us will have another's antidote, meaning that we will never be slaves to the Apex, ensuring the alliance' or some kind of nonsense like that, right?" Orion's lips curled.

Silence.

Elias' smirk had vanished. Ingrid's calculating gaze sharpened.

Orion exhaled, leaning back in his seat. "This isn't a pact. It's a culling." His voice was almost amused. "And I don't play rigged games."

Nyra studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, she smiled. "Interesting," she murmured. "But do you even have an alternative?"

Orion didn't hesitate. "Yes," he said smoothly. "I walk away."

That caught them off guard.

Elias narrowed his eyes. "You'd give up your chance at Apex?"

Orion shrugged. "I refuse to be another piece on someone else's board. But who said anything about losing? You can set traps, form alliances, plan, and scheme—but in the end, it won't matter. I'll break every scheme and stand above you all. That's what it means to be Apex."

Nyra tilted her head, considering him. "Walking away doesn't mean you're free," she mused. "It just means you'll be the first one we eliminate."

Orion's smile was razor-sharp. "Then I'll just have to hunt you before you get the chance to do so."

The room tensed.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then, Elias laughed—a low, knowing sound. "You are an interesting one, Orion."

Nyra's gaze lingered on him for a beat longer before she leaned back, crossing her arms. "Very well," she murmured. "Let's see if you can back up that arrogance."