Page 50 of Petrified

Several minutes pass before the observation door opens and two senior Essence staff members step inside with their phones already in their hands. I recognize both from administration, and neither looks confused enough for Gerald to talk his way out of what I sent. One scans the broken restraints and damaged station before looking directly at him. “Gerald, step away from the console and give internal security access to the room.”

Gerald’s face goes flat. “I own this agency.”

“You own the company. You don't own the evidence, and you don't get to remain in control of the systems named in an active complaint involving unlawful containment and unauthorized experimentation.” The other administrator gestures toward two members of security, who move toward the console instead of us.

That is the first moment I think this may actually be over.

The next hour is messy, but at least it moves in the right direction. The supernatural crimes unit arrives before anyone allows Gerald to leave the building, and the ward logs plus the transport records give them enough to treat what happened to us as unlawful containment instead of an internal Essence dispute.

Internal security locks Gerald out of the facility network while copies of the room logs, sensor records, transport data, and ward controls are secured. The field team that brought us here gets separated for statements, and it becomes obvious quickly that several of them were told they were responding to an unstable Chameleon after a dangerous adaptive event, not collecting three unwilling subjects for Gerald’s private research.

Gerald tries twice to insist he needs to speak with Lev before they take his access away completely. I stop both attempts without raising my voice, and Rowan makes it clear enough with his expression that a third request would be a poor decision.

Lev stays between us while the first recovered files are opened under supervision. There are older Chameleon records mixed in with Gerald’s research, including the material tied to Lev’s father, but there are also entire directories built from the three of us: magical baselines, separation responses, venom observations, sexual-contact readings, case predictions, and the containment protocols Gerald prepared before we ever agreed to anything.

Lev goes very still as he reads through the directory names. “I don't want everything destroyed. The old Chameleon records stay, and my father’s file comes with me.”

“They should,” I tell him, keeping one hand around his wrist while Rowan stays pressed against his other side. “Those aren't the same as what Gerald built from us.”

Lev nods and looks toward the folders containing the bond data and field projections. “Everything he collected from us without permission gets locked down as evidence, then removed from every system he could ever access again. I want the working copies gone, the trackers gone, the monitoring feeds gone, and I want proof there isn't some fucking backup sitting on a private server waiting for him.”

Rowan leans over Lev’s shoulder to look at the list. “And the containment plans.”

“Especially the containment plans.” Lev glances toward him. “I would prefer there not be instructions floating around for building another room designed around how to hurt us efficiently.”

The administrators agree to preserve only what is legally required for the investigation while the active research copies, personal archives, remote monitoring access, and predictive files are isolated and scheduled for destruction once evidence retention no longer requires them. The older Chameleon history and everything tied to Lev’s father are separated from Gerald’s experimental work and transferred into a restricted archive Lev controls.

By the time investigators escort Gerald out of the facility with his Essence access suspended and the research servers under external lock, nobody is taking instructions from him anymore.

He looks back once from the doorway and finds Lev between Rowan and me, still touching both of us because that is where he wants to be rather than because a monitor says it changes his baseline.

Gerald’s gaze drops to the contact anyway. This time Lev only smiles, hooks his fingers more securely around Rowan’s wrist, and leans harder into my side.

For all the measurements Gerald took, that is the part he never managed to understand. He could record what the bond did to Lev’s magic, but he could never reduce the three of us choosing one another to something he owned.

Chapter 15

ROWAN

Two days after Gerald is removed from Essence, the apartment finally feels like ours again. There are still calls waiting to be returned, statements none of us want to give twice, and enough paperwork sitting on the kitchen counter that Lev threatened to set it on fire before Amand moved it out of reach, but none of it feels urgent tonight. Gerald is gone, his access is locked down, the gargoyle is dead, Medusa is safe, and for once there is nothing waiting on the other side of the door.

Lev is stretched across the couch with his head in my lap and his feet shoved under Amand’s thigh. He stole one of my shirts after his shower and has been wearing it with nothing but underwear for the last hour, which would be distracting enough without him shifting every few minutes until the hem rides higher. I drag my fingers through his curls while Amand keeps one hand around Lev’s ankle, and the whole thing is so familiar that it takes me a while to realize why it feels different.

Nobody is watching us now, timing how long Lev stays close to one of us or noting whether his magic settles faster when both of us touch him. Nobody is waiting to ask what his scent does after sex or how long his camouflage holds after one of us leaves the room. Lev can put his cold feet under Amand’s thigh because he is cold, and he can hook two fingers into my waistband because he likes knowing I'm there, and neither one means anything beyond what we decide it means.

Amand notices me staring and closes the folder resting on his lap. “You could just tell him to take the shirt off if you're going to keep looking at him like that.”

Lev opens one eye without lifting his head. “I heard that, and I would like it noted that neither of you gets to complain about me wearing your clothes when you keep buying shirts large enough to qualify as bedding.” He shifts just enough to make the hem ride higher, which tells me he knows exactly what he is doing.

“I wasn't complaining,” I tell him, sliding my hand down to the back of his neck. “I can stare in my own house.”

Lev smiles and closes his eye again. “That sounded territorial enough that I'm choosing to take it as a compliment.”

Amand reaches over and tugs lightly at Lev’s ankle until he moves one foot farther beneath his leg. “You take most things as compliments if you work hard enough.”

“That is because I believe in myself.”

I feel the laugh move through Lev before I hear it, and some knot I didn't realize I was still carrying finally loosens. This is what Gerald never understood. He knew what the bond did to Lev’s body and what our magic did to his, but none of that explained why Lev annoys Amand on purpose, why he steals my shirts, or why both of us automatically make room when he crawls between us.