CHAPTER 459: CHAPTER 459: DECISIONS, DECISIONS (PART 9)

The corridor stretched ahead—plain alloy ribs, cold lights washing the floor in pale bands. Don walked in step with Gary, both of them moving at a steady pace that felt almost ceremonial in its routine.

Gary’s hands were folded behind his back, his stride clipped and deliberate, the posture of a man who could have been walking the halls of an embassy rather than a subterranean fortress.

"Overall," Gary said, voice even, "depending on what particularly makes this enlistment unique, it could prove to be a great opportunity."

Don let out a low sound that might have been agreement, eyes trailing over the exposed conduits running along the ceiling.

Then—

Tap-tap-tap~

The rhythm hit his ears. Not casual steps. Running. Hurried.

Don’s head tilted slightly, already tracking the sound before his body bothered to react. Gary, however, caught it as well. He turned his head just enough, exhaled through his nose, and said, "Well then, sir, I shall return to looking through the matter."

His tone was still polite, still collected, though a shade lower. "But according to a reliable source, I’m told the General is at SHQ."

"Sure," Don replied, his gaze still trained ahead. "Let me know when you uncover anything of interest."

Gary inclined his head in a single, measured nod. "Of course, sir."

Without another word, he pivoted and set off down the adjoining corridor. His footsteps carried that same refined cadence—click, click, click—until he turned a corner and vanished from view.

Don lingered a half-second before the sound of running closed the gap. He shifted his gaze back just in time to catch the blur.

Trixie.

It was both surprising and not. She rarely moved quickly on foot, preferring to vanish or cheat distance in her usual fashion. But when she did, her steps were light enough to barely register—except to him.

She came into view with her grin already loaded, eyes flicking back over her shoulder as if she were escaping something dreadful.

Jean shorts clung low on her hips, the top button undone, and the cropped black vest did little in the way of modesty. Barefoot, tail swishing. Not panic, but mischief.

"I said I was sorry!" she yelled over her shoulder, laughing as the words bounced off alloy walls.

Then her head snapped forward. She spotted him. Her grin widened into a smile, her pace quickened, and the playful shout followed: "Don! You have to save me!"

He didn’t need heightened senses to know the act was being played up.

Trixie reached him in a rush, darting behind and pressing herself flush against his back. Her arms hooked lightly around him, her voice shifting into a feigned plea as she pressed her perky breasts into him. "Don, you gotta help me, Elle wants to hurt me again."

’Can you blame her?’ he thought, the corners of his mouth tugging.

On the surface, he answered flatly, "How’s that my problem?"

Trixie pulled a mock wounded face he couldn’t see but could almost feel in her tone. She pressed tighter, her tail coiling around his leg in a slow loop. "Aww, don’t be like that," she purred. "I’ll do anything..."

Don rolled his eyes before she could finish.

Then it hit him—subtle, but enough. A cold trace crawled his spine, setting every instinct to alert. He turned his head, senses locking onto the corridor.

Elle.

She wasn’t running. She wasn’t even breathing loudly. Her steps made no sound at all, her presence more absent than concealed. To anyone else she’d be a figure simply walking the hall, but to Don, with his sharpened perception, she came off closer to a ghost sliding through the air.

Her expression held the proof. An annoyed little frown over her porcelain face, but not the kind that came with blood in the air. He couldn’t smell anger—so it wasn’t serious. Still, the aura she gave off carried its own weight, something that made even him wary at times.

Elle’s eyes lifted, and the moment they met his, her composure cracked. The irritation bled away. Her cheeks colored as she lowered her gaze a touch, her voice slipping out small and uncertain.

"Oh... hi... you’re already here..."

It came out both pleased and embarrassed.

Don smiled, peeling himself free of Trixie’s cling just enough to take a step forward. He stopped in front of Elle, close enough for her to tilt her chin upward slowly, eyes rising to his.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, the tease light.

Elle hesitated.

The question landed, and her face colored deeper. A small smile tugged at her lips, nervous but genuine.

"Well... uhm... yeah..." The words faded as quickly as they came, trailing into the air like she’d run out of courage mid-sentence.

Don only smiled. He leaned in, his arm slipping around her waist as he pulled her close. The shift in contact stiffened her immediately, muscles locked for a second—then softened.

Her body eased against his as if all resistance had been cut loose. She even drew in a deep breath near his neck, inhaling like someone taking in a scent they’d missed.

"I missed you too," Don said, his tone casual, unforced.

The embrace lingered, and with every passing second it edged into something heavier, the air tilting toward intimacy.

Then—

Pffft~

A puff of pink smoke swirled between them.

Trixie materialized right in the middle, wedging herself against both of them with a grin that could only be called reckless. Her tail coiled lazily, brushing Don’s side as she chirped, "Did you miss me too?"

Don didn’t get the chance to answer.

Elle’s hands moved faster than thought. One moment they were still resting lightly against Don, the next they had latched onto Trixie’s cheeks, stretching them outward.

"I haven’t forgotten what you did," Elle muttered, her voice soft but edged with frustration.

"Wahh—? You should be thanking me," Trixie protested, her words garbled through the cheek-pull. She twisted her tail around mischievously as she added, "Why do you think Don got here so fast? He already has a boner just thinking about it."

Don narrowed his eyes, already ready to cut in, but Elle beat him to it. Her head lifted, eyes flashing with something firm.

"No he’s not," she said, the conviction in her tone surprising even herself. "I would’ve felt it."

Don’s brow arched, and his reply came smooth: "You mean as we hugged?"

Elle froze.

Caught.

Her mouth opened, but no words formed. Uhm, well— Nothing came that didn’t trap her further. Lying wasn’t an option with Don, and admitting the truth was out of reach.

She did the only thing she could: she broke the moment entirely. Pulling back, clearing her throat once, she muttered, "Ahem, anyway, it doesn’t matter. Uhm... since you’re here, there’s something I wanted to give you. So..." Her eyes darted briefly, blush deepening again. "Follow me."

Without waiting, she turned and started down the corridor, her steps quick but not hurried, her hair brushing over her shoulders with each stride.

Don raised a brow, then glanced down.

Trixie had dropped into a mock meditative pose right in front of him, eyes squeezed shut, two fingers pressed to her temple like a cartoon psychic. Her face pointed squarely toward his waist.

"What are you doing?" Don asked, voice flat.

"Trying to feel if you have a boner..." she replied, tongue poking out slightly as though the effort required visible focus. "Ngh..."

Don sighed, shaking his head as he started walking after Elle.

"Hey, wait for me!" Trixie called, scrambling up to follow, tail flicking behind her.

—

The tram ride hummed under their feet. Smooth, gliding movement, the faint vibration running through the bench.

They arrived at the command center, stepping into a chamber alive with holographic projections.

Screens floated above the table in layered rings—profiles, articles, scattered notes of investigation. At the centerpiece loomed an image of Sister Rose, her profile highlighted among the arrangement.

Don glanced once, then dismissed it. If Elle had made progress, she’d tell him.

Elle didn’t stop at the table’s edge. She crossed directly to the head seat, where a small wooden box rested. It wasn’t pretty—shaped like a jewelry case, but stripped of any refinement. Crude black markings scratched across its surface, uneven and jagged.

She picked it up carefully, then turned toward Don. Her blush hadn’t cooled.

"Close your eyes and count to three."

Trixie sidled closer, smirking wide, tail curling in anticipation. She leaned just enough to watch Don’s face as if waiting for the punchline.

Don played along. He shut his eyes. "One... two... three."

When they opened, Elle was standing in front of him, holding the box open.

Inside lay a... collar?