15. Chapter 15 - Evan
" T he virus was created by Blackthorn Biotech,"
"What?!" Dahlia stares at me, her face draining of color. "Say that again."
I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet her eyes. "The Crimson Plague was created in Blackthorn Biotech labs. By my company and under my supervision."
She shakes her head slowly, like she's trying to reject the very idea. "No. That's not possible."
I push the folder toward her. "It's all there. It contains every test, and every formula."
Her hands tremble as she opens the folder. She flips through pages of research notes, chemical formulas, and test results.
"You knew." She looks up at me, her eyes blazing. "You fucking knew all along."
"Yes."
"And you kept this from me?" She slams her palm down on the documents. "Do you have any idea what this means? People have died, Evan. They've fucking died while you sat on this information!"
"It wasn't that simple…"
"Bullshit! … What possible reason could justify this? Money? Power? Your fucking reputation?"
"Are you going to say anything?" she demands.
"If you'll let me explain."
"Oh, please do." She crosses her arms. "I'm dying to hear how you justify creating a virus that's killing shifters across the country."
I take a deep breath. "I didn't know what it would become."
She laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. "That's your defense?"
"I'm not defending myself… I'm telling you what happened."
She watches me, waiting.
"Before I took over Blackthorn Biotech, I was in the military." I pace the length of my office. "Special ops division that worked with shifter recruits."
"You were a soldier?"
"For eight years." I nod. "That's where I met General Hammond. He was my superior officer and my mentor."
"The man who just declared an open season on shifters was your mentor?" Her voice drips with disbelief.
"He wasn't always like that." I stop pacing and lean against the window. "Or maybe he was, and I just didn't see it. He approached me after I left the service and took over my family's company. He said he had an idea that could help shifters."
"Help them how?"
"That he could create a drug that would enhance their abilities and give them more control." I laugh bitterly.
Dahlia's eyes narrow. "And you believed him?"
"I wanted to." I turn to face her fully. "Think about it, Dahlia. A drug that could give shifters complete control over their transformations. No more accidental shifts during emotional moments. It would have changed everything."
"And made you obscenely rich in the process."
I don't deny it. "The money was a factor, yes. But I also thought we were doing something good. Something revolutionary."
"So, what happened?"
"The initial tests were promising. The drug increased transformation speed and reduced pain. But then subjects started showing instability." I rub my temples, remembering. "Their shifts became erratic. Unpredictable."
"And instead of stopping, you kept going," she accuses.
"Hammond insisted we were close to a breakthrough. That we just needed to refine the formula." I meet her gaze. "What I didn't know was that he had changed the parameters of the research."
"What do you mean?"
"He didn't want a drug that gave shifters control. He wanted the opposite. Hammond wanted to create a biological agent that could trigger transformations on command." My voice hardens. "A weapon to turn shifters into soldiers who could be controlled."
"He wanted to weaponize shifters."
"Exactly." I nod. "By the time I realized what was happening, the drug had gone south, and the virus had already been created. And then one of the test subjects escaped."
"Patient zero," she whispers.
"Yes… I shut down the program immediately, destroyed all the samples I could find. But Hammond had already secured the backing of the government. He took the research and continued elsewhere."
Dahlia sinks into a chair, "Leo's sister died from this virus. Onyx's cousin is dying right now. Hundreds, maybe thousands of shifters are suffering because of what you helped create."
"I know."
"And that's why you've been so desperate for a cure," she says. "It's not out of the goodness of your heart. You're just trying ease your guilty conscience."
I don't answer. What could I possibly say?
"You're a coward," she says softly. "You could have come forward. You could have told the world what Hammond did."
"And accomplish what?" I snap. "Get myself killed? Get thrown in prison? Hammond has the backing of the military and half the government. My word against his would have meant nothing."
"So instead, you hid behind your money and your power while people died."
"I tried to fix it!" I slam my fist on the desk. "Why do you think I sought you out? Why do you think I gave you unlimited funding, the best lab equipment money could buy? I've been trying to undo this, Dahlia."
"While keeping your hands clean," she counters. "While protecting your precious reputation."
"My reputation means nothing to me."
"Bullshit." She stands again and moves towards me. "Everything about you is calculated, Evan. Everything! And it makes me feel like you used me. Like I was a game to you."
"You're not a game, Dahlia. I am not using you. I swear."
She's close enough now that I can smell her scent, and it drives me crazy even as she's tearing me apart.
"You should have told me from the beginning," she says, her voice softer but no less angry.
"I know… I'm sorry." The words feel inadequate, but they're all I have.
"Sorry doesn't bring back the dead." Her eyes shine with unshed tears. "Sorry, doesn't save Mara or anyone else infected with your virus."
"It wasn't my…" I stop myself. "You're right. I share the blame."
"You're unbelievable." She gathers the files, clutching them to her chest.
"I have to protect myself," I argue. "Hammond would kill me if he knew I had these files."
"And that's supposed to make me sympathetic?" She backs toward the door. "You created a virus that's destroying lives, and your biggest concern is saving your own skin?"
"That's not fair."
"Fair?" She laughs, the sound sharp and humorless. "You want to talk about fair? Go tell that to the families of everyone who's died. Go tell Leo his sister's death was 'fair.'"
"Is that what this is about? Your new boyfriend?"
Her eyes narrow. "Fuck you, Evan."
"You nearly did,"
Color floods her cheeks. "That was before I knew what you really are."
"And what am I, exactly?"
"A monster." She reaches for the door handle. "No better than Hammond himself."
"I'm nothing like him."
"Aren't you? You both used shifters for your own gain. The only difference is you feel bad about it afterward."
I move toward her, unable to let her leave with that comparison hanging between us. "I've spent millions trying to find a cure. I've risked everything to keep you safe, to give you what you need to stop this."
"After causing it in the first place!" She backs up against the door. "Don't you dare act like you're some kind of hero."
"I never claimed to be a hero." I stop just inches from her. "But I'm not the villain you want me to be, either."
"Then what are you?"
"A man who made a terrible mistake." My voice drops lower. "A man who's trying to make it right."
Her eyes search for mine, looking for truth or lies. I don't know which she finds.
"I don't know if I can trust you," she says finally.
"You don't have to trust me." I reach past her to unlock the door, my arm brushing hers. "Just use what's in those files to find a cure. That's all that matters now."
She doesn't move, even though the door is unlocked. We stand there, too close.
"Why did you kiss me?" she asks suddenly. "That day in your office. Was that part of your plan too?"
The question catches me off guard. "No."
"Then why?"
"Because I couldn't help myself." I lift my hand, almost touching her face before letting it fall back to my side. "Because from the moment you stormed into my office and called me a corporate parasite, I wanted you."
Her breath catches. "That's not a good enough reason."
"It's the only one I have." I step back, giving her space. "I want you, Dahlia. Even knowing you hate me now. Even knowing you've been with them. I still want you."
"You don't get to say that." Her voice wavers. "Not after what you've done."
"I know." I move back to my desk, putting physical distance between us. "I'm sorry. I know you hate me."
She hesitates, her hand on the doorknob. "I don't hate you."
The words surprise me. "You should."
"Believe me, I'm trying." A ghost of a smile touches her lips. "But hate would be simpler than... whatever this is."
Before I can respond, I hear a sharp beeping sound. Dahlia glances at her watch, her expression changing from conflicted to alarmed in an instant.
"Shit!" She yanks the door open. "His heart rate is crashing!"