Page 15 of Obey

He says it like a warning.

Or maybe a reminder to himself.

Jace stands close enough for me to see the ink disappearing beneath his collar. My thumbnail finds the small scar on my index finger, tracing it the way I always do when I need something to do with my hands.

His attention drops to my fingers, and a low, rough sound escapes his throat.

Before I can decide what to make of that, he steps away and leads me toward the kitchenette.

“Nate forgets basic human needs during releases,” he tells me, tapping one of the bottom drawers. “Electrolytes packets and protein bars. Keep those stocked if you want to earn points.”

We exit into a different hall, and Jace taps his key card against the panel by the elevator. “Before we lock you upstairs with us,” he says lightly, “you should see where the real magic happens.”

The doors glide open, carrying us down through the building’s spine. The lower floors hum with purpose. Engineers move between glass-walled rooms, tablets in hand, conversations clipped and intense. Prototype stations glow behind reinforced panels, half-assembled devices laid out like sacred instruments awaiting blessing.

"This is where the ideas become prototypes. Every design, every adjustment, every failure before we send anything into production."

An engineer rounds the corner ahead of us, pushing a cart loaded with prototype components. He's so focused on the tablet balanced in one hand that he doesn't notice we're about to cross his path.

Jace catches me around the waist and draws me closer to his side, giving the cart enough room to pass.

"Careful, Sugar," he murmurs near my ear. "Wouldn't want you getting taken out on your first day."

"I'm pretty sure that would violate at least three workplace safety regulations."

His laugh is warm against my ear, but instead of stepping away, he keeps his hand at my waist as we continue down the hall.

I should probably say something about that, considering I barely know the man. But his touch is warm and surprisingly gentle, and I'm finding it a little difficult to remember why I ought to object.

We pass a long conference room mid-discussion, and I glance through the glass. Elias stands at the head of the table, dark sleeves rolled to his forearms, one hand braced against the surface as he speaks to an engineer. Nate is beside him, studying schematics projected against the wall. They're deep in conversation, command and calculation moving in tandem.

Then they look up, almost simultaneously, and my eyes meet theirs through the glass.

My breath catches. Elias holds my gaze with that same unnerving intensity I remember from the lobby, his expression giving nothing away. Nate, on the other hand, barely acknowledges me before his attention drops to Jace's hand resting against my waist. Something tightens in his expression, and I can't tell whether he's irritated by the interruption or by how comfortably Jace has made himself at home in my personal space.

The possibility that it's the latter sends an unexpected shock through me.

Jace catches Nate watching us and rewards him with a taunting wink. His hand presses a little more firmly against my waist before he guides me away from the glass, apparently delighted with whatever silent exchange just took place.

I follow, but I can't resist one last glance over my shoulder. Nate has returned his attention to the schematics, while Elias is still watching us leave.

After getting a complete tour, Jace walks me back to my desk, and tosses a leather folder onto it. "Now for the boring part."

Inside, a thick stack of security protocols, system-access instructions, and internal policies awaits me.

"I thought I already signed my life away."

"That was the introductory package, Sugar. This is the advanced course."

I pick up the first document. The font alone looks expensive.

"Everything you see and hear upstairs stays upstairs," he reminds me. "And before you ask, yes, Nate checks who accesses what."

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."

The next twenty minutes disappear into access permissions, security protocols, and enough company policies to make me reconsider whether the salary.

Jace spends most of it warning me that if my initials don’t match exactly, Nate will make me redo the page.