FORTY-TWO #3
The bond reacts to that. Both of them. Ewan’s fear flashing like a neon sign in the dark while Kaito’s restraint clamps down so hard I feel it in my gums.
Across the room, Xeon finally moves. It’s only one step away from the wall, and it’s not toward me. It’s toward Hale, which is a small but important difference. Hale notices, and so do I.
That absence in my chest aches again.
No thread.
No pull.
Just Xeon choosing the same side anyway.
My throat burns and I look down at my hands. I don’t even know when I realized how deeply I wanted these men, but now it’s sitting heavy on my shoulders with the weight of everything else trying to bury me in the dirt.
I run my eyes over my fingers. Cleaner now, and still mine. When I lift my head, the whole room seems to be waiting.
Some of them see hope.
Mercer, with his grief-struck eyes and careful eyes.
Ellis, who looks like she hates herself for even considering the possibilities.
Valeria, practical and grim.
Some see danger. Like Hale. Maybe others outside this door. Maybe the whole shit-sucking compound by morning.
And some will see an asset. They always do.
They’ll use a better word for it, like future, cure, protection, necessity.
But I know how to identify a cage even when someone paints it gold and decorates it with ribbons.
I’ve always known, since the moment Maine left and I had to learn how to identify the shape of the bars under the cheap tricks.
“No,” I say shortly.
Hale's eyebrows draw together. “No?”
“No to whatever you’ve already started building in your head.”
“Kota—”
“I said no,” I repeat, my voice steady and strong despite the way everything inside me is trembling. “I’ll help, because I’m not stupid. I’m not that selfish. If my blood can help people not turn, I’m not going to sit here and pretend like that doesn't matter. Like it’s not important.”
Mercer goes very still and Maine looks as though he wants to argue and hug me all at the same time.
“But,” I continue, “I’m not your fucking cure. I’m not your little test subject. I’m not your grand future you’re already envisioning. I’m not an asset, a weapon, a solution, or a thing you get to lock behind a door and call hope.”
No one dares interrupt.
Smart.
“I’ll give blood,” I say.
Maine’s head snaps toward me. “Dakota.”
“One vial,” I add, looking at Mercer only. “You take it in front of me. You label it with my name. You tell me exactly what you’re testing for before you even test it. No codes. No secret samples. No sharing it with anyone outside this room unless I agree to it.”
Slowly, Mercer nods.
“Maine gets to see the records. So do I. No tests when I’m unconscious. No sedation unless I ask for it or I’m dying and Maine agrees.”
Maine’s face changes then, and Fletcher’s hand lands briefly on his shoulder.
I look over at Valeria. “No guards from Davis’s circle near me. Ever.”
“Done,” she agrees easily.
Hale looks at her, but she only looks back, face blank. That’s… interesting.
I turn to Hale then. “And if anyone in leadership starts even whispering the words subject, asset, breeding viability, or greater good, I walk. I’ll leave and I won’t look back. I’ll take every drop of my precious blood with me and leave you all in the shit. We clear?”
The room grows unbearably cold. Good. Let it.
Ewan’s bond flares with something that might be pride. Kaito’s settles even deeper. Fletcher huffs behind me, something very close to a laugh. And Xeon’s mouth barely moves, but I see it. The smallest curve I cement in my mind.
Hale studies me for a very long moment before he says, “You understand what’s at stake.”
“Yes,” I say with a slow nod. “Which is why I’m not letting you own it.”
Mercer closes his eyes for half a second. When he opens them, he nods. “Your terms are reasonable.”
“They’re non-negotiable,” I bluntly retort.
“That, too,” he says, mouth twitching.
Hale doesn’t like it. I can see it as clearly as I can see the calculating little frown on his face. But I don’t care.
Eventually, he gives one sharp nod. “For now.”
“For always,” Maine corrects with an edge to his voice that doesn't go unnoticed.
I stare at Hale and I don’t blink when I repeat, “For always.”
The words settle over the table. Not peace or victory, but terms. A line drawn in a room full of people already imagining ways to step over or around it.
Mercer reaches for the empty vial only after one nod. My stomach drops at the sight of it but my hands remain flat on the table much like Kaito’s.
My voice is mine when I say, “Label first.”
Mercer does, slowly and carefully.
Dakota O’Reilly.
No code. No number. No subject.
Outside, Haven Ridge waits with its questions and fear and greedy little hope.
Inside, I sit between two bonds, with Fletcher’s steady presence at my back, a third absence aching quietly near the door, and my brother across from me looking ready to burn down the world with a plastic chair.
Mercer sets the labeled vial next to my hand.
Dakota O’Reilly.
Potentially immune.
My throat tightens and I look from the vial to Mercer.
“Now,” I say. “Tell me what my father did.”