Page 45 of Obey

That catches Elias's attention.

“Étreinte?” he asks.

“Yes, sir.”

I straighten, adjusting my cuffs as though we weren't just arguing about the same woman. “Then let's see what we've got.”

The hallway lights flick on as we pass, our footsteps echoing against the glass. The analyst badges us into the conference suite. I take the head of the table by habit, Elias at my right and Jace across from me.

“Play it.”

The audio begins with standard biometric readings as the analyst on the recording reads off the introduction. The analyst skips through the fifteen-minute calibration, stopping at the beginning of the operator-controlled evaluation. The speakers crackle softly before a familiar voice cuts through the room.

"Yes... right there! Don't stop."

Elias’s attention snaps toward the speakers. Jace’s tapping stops.

“This tester was more responsive than expected,” the analyst says, reading straight off the paper. “Highest response scores we’ve seen.”

His voice sounds distant as my mind tries to process what I'm hearing.

Is that Sloane?

A deeper moan escapes the speakers, each syllable stretched and honeyed, in that cadence I've been fighting to forget since she first walked through our doors.

"Please,"

The pen splinters between my fingers, the crack sharp in the suddenly airless room. Jace lowers his coffee to the table, apparently forgetting he was holding it as recognition sets in .

"Holy shit. Is that—"

“Everyone out.”

The analyst hesitates. “Sir, we haven't finished the evaluation.”

“I said everyone. Now.”

When they hesitate, Elias's voice follows, deceptively calm but razor-sharp: "That wasn't a suggestion."

The door seals behind the retreating analysts, leaving the three of us alone with the recording.

There's no mistaking that voice.

I should stop the playback. End the review, delete the session from my queue, and pretend I never recognized her.

The thought of anyone else hearing her like this makes my blood boil.

But deleting the recording means I'd never hear it again, either.

Still, my hand moves toward the controls. Then I hear her again and I don't press a damn thing.

"Please—god—right there—I can't—" The sound tears through the conference room, shattering the professional veneer we've maintained for months.

Jace leans forward, eyes fixed on the speakers, one heel bouncing hard against the floor. Beside me, Elias has gone completely still. His eyes slipping closed on an inhale.

The edge of the table bites into my palms.

Her voice pulls me back to that afternoon in my office—to Sloane pinned between me and the frosted glass, trying to pretend her body wasn't answering mine.