Chapter 299: 299 | The Unedited Version
"There’s a lot to not mention."
"I figured. That’s why we’re eating first."
We navigated the cafeteria line together, loading our trays with food that looked marginally better than standard institutional fare. Sloane got her chicken sandwich and a suspicious green smoothie that matched Felicity’s from the previous day. I went for the barbecue again, because consistency was important and because the short ribs were genuinely excellent.
Back at our table, we ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. The bond hummed between us, carrying small emotional updates that didn’t require verbal translation. Sloane’s satisfaction at the sandwich quality. My relief at having survived the morning without additional romantic complications. The shared contentment of sitting together in a room full of people who weren’t us and didn’t matter nearly as much.
"So," she said eventually, wiping her fingers on a napkin. "Your morning. Details."
"Conditioning with Steele at six. Three mile run, obstacle course, partner exercises."
"Partner exercises with?"
"Camille."
Sloane’s expression flickered. "Of course."
"Steele assigned the pairs. I didn’t volunteer."
"I believe you. What happened?"
"Resistance training. She tried to pretend yesterday didn’t happen. I called her on it. We had a tense conversation while she pressed her chest against my arms and told me she hated me."
"And?"
"And I told her she hadn’t decided whether she actually hated me yet. Which is true. She’s still processing."
Sloane studied my face with an intensity that suggested she was reading more than my words. The bond probably helped, giving her access to emotional subtext I wasn’t consciously broadcasting.
"You’re not wrong," she said finally. "About Camille. I’ve known her since we were kids. She doesn’t hate easily. She decides people are worth her energy or she dismisses them entirely, and the fact that she came to your room at midnight means you’ve made the first category."
"That’s what I figured."
"Which doesn’t make me feel better, for the record."
"I know."
She sighed and took a long drink of her smoothie, buying time to organize her thoughts. I watched her throat move as she swallowed, the elegant line of her neck catching the sunlight through the window.
"What about Petra?"
"What about her?"
"Lukas."
"She came to my room after Camille. While Camille was still there. It was awkward."
"I gathered that from the emotional explosion I felt through our bond at approximately one in the morning."
"You were awake?"
"I was sleeping. Your panic woke me up. I assumed something was happening and decided to give you space to handle it rather than texting to demand answers at one AM."
"That was very mature of you."
"I contain multitudes." She set down her smoothie and leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Tell me what happened with both of them. The real version, not the edited one you’ve been constructing since this conversation started."
I hesitated. The bond carried my uncertainty to her, the complicated tangle of wanting to be honest and not wanting to hurt her with details that would only cause pain without providing useful information.
"They both showed up in sleepwear that probably qualified as lingerie," I said. "Camille first, then Petra while Camille was still there. They argued with each other for a while. I told them both to leave because nothing productive was going to happen at one in the morning with everyone running on adrenaline and unprocessed feelings."
"And they left?"
"Eventually. Camille first, then Petra. Nothing happened between me and either of them. I didn’t kiss anyone or pin anyone or do anything that would look bad on surveillance footage."
"But they wanted something to happen."
It wasn’t a question. Sloane knew. She’d probably known before I said anything, reading the situation through our bond and through her years of knowing both women.
"I think so. Yeah."
"And what do you want?"
The question hung between us, heavy with implications that went far beyond a simple answer. What did I want? The System wanted me to pursue multiple heroines, to build a harem through a combination of genuine connection and supernatural mechanics. My body wanted several things that polite society frowned upon discussing over lunch. My heart wanted Sloane, completely and permanently, in a way that felt almost frightening in its certainty.
"I want you," I said. "That part’s not complicated."
"And the other parts?"
"I don’t know yet. I’m figuring it out."
She nodded slowly, processing. The bond carried her emotions to me in waves: uncertainty, fear, trust, love, possessiveness, resignation. All of them real. All of them valid. All of them competing for dominance in a situation that didn’t have clean answers.
"I need you to promise me something," she said.
"Anything."
"Don’t lie to me. About any of it. If something happens with Camille or Petra or anyone else, tell me. Don’t let me find out through gossip or footage or the bond picking up emotions you’re trying to hide."
"I promise."
"I’m serious, Lukas. The bond means I’m going to know when you’re hiding things. The only question is whether you tell me first or whether I have to drag it out of you."
"I promise," I repeated. "No lies. No hiding. Whatever happens, you hear it from me first."
She studied my face for a long moment, searching for any sign of deception. The bond would have betrayed me if I was lying, but she checked anyway because trust required more than supernatural verification.
"Okay," she said finally. "We figure it out together, then. Whatever this turns into."
"Together."
The word settled between us like a contract, binding in ways that went beyond legal frameworks. Together meant facing the complications as they arose. Together meant processing the jealousy and the uncertainty and the fear without letting them destroy what we were building. Together meant trusting each other even when trust felt like a risk.
I reached across the table and took her hand again. She let me, her fingers curling around mine with a strength that bordered on painful.
"I love you," I said, because the moment called for it and because it was true.
"I know." She smiled, and some of the tension finally left her eyes. "I love you too. Even when you’re infuriating."
"Especially when I’m infuriating."
"Don’t push your luck."
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