FORTY-TWO #2
“You were actually having several of them.”
“Then I think we can both agree that I was actually very efficient in my multitasking.”
Ellis pauses at that and then nods. Ewan makes a small sound that sounds like he’s choking back a laugh. Kaito’s bond warms by half a degree. Hell, even Mercer’s mouth twitches.
Only Hale remains carved out of stone. What a vibe killer.
Mercer doesn’t reach for the needle yet. Good for him. Instead, he looks at me and says, “You never made sense.”
“No kidding,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.
“I mean medically,” he corrects carefully. “Clinically. From the moment you came through the west gate, nothing about your presentation matched what I expected.”
I glance down at my hands. They’re a little cleaner now, but not clean. Just… cleaner.
Mercer continues. “You were malnourished, injured, exhausted, and running on blockers strong enough to put most Omegas to sleep on the floor. But your scent kept breaking through them anyway. Not normally. Not steadily. In waves.”
I clear my throat. “You know, my scent being an annoying little bitch isn’t exactly the breaking news you might think it is.”
“No,” he says. “But it wasn’t only brought on by stress. And tonight proves that.”
The atmosphere in the small room grows charged then. Ewan’s knee presses lightly against mine while Kaito’s hands stay flat on the table. Fletcher doesn’t touch me, but his cedar and leather scent is as steady as a wall at my back.
Xeon says nothing, but I feel him anyway. Not through a bond, but through attention. Through the way the air close to the door feels watched, held, and protected.
Mercer’s gaze flicks to Hale and then back to me. “I can’t prove it without tests. Not yet, anyway. But I think the virus in your system isn’t progressing the way it does in everyone else.”
The room goes as still as an abandoned cemetery.
Maine leans forward in his seat. “What virus is in her system?”
Mercer’s face tightens. “The one NOVAC built its entire research around. The one her father was studying. The one tied to the outbreak, to Omega instability, and turning.”
My stomach drops and I shake my head slowly. “You’re guessing.”
“Yes. I am,” Mercer agrees. “But I’m not just guessing blindly.”
Hale leans forward. “Explain.”
Mercer doesn’t once look away from me. “Most people exposed to active viral contamination show one of three outcomes. Rapid turning. Delayed turning. Or death before there’s even a conversation about the first two.
Some rare cases have shown resistance for a few hours.
Maybe even longer. But the virus always pushes in one direction. Always.”
“Turning,” I supply.
“Yes. Turning,” he confirms with a sharp nod. My stomach twists uncomfortably, but he continues. “You don’t present that way, though.”
“Because we don’t even know if I’m carrying it.”
“No,” he agrees. “We don’t know. But your father’s notes suggest exposure wasn’t always accidental.”
The lights above buzz loudly. I hate that I can even hear them, especially over the ringing in my ears.
Maine goes completely pale. “What does that mean?”
Mercer’s mouth tightens. “I don’t know yet.”
“Then don’t make it sound like you do,” my brother snaps back.
Honestly, that’s fair.
That’s very fair.
Mercer nods. “You’re right.”
That actually surprises me more than it probably should have.
He turns back to me before continuing. “I think something about you is interacting with NOVAC’s viral architecture.
Maybe because of inherited exposure. Maybe because of something your father did.
Maybe because your biology responded in a way no one could have ever predicted.
I don’t know which is the truth just yet. ”
“That’s comforting,” I mutter under my breath.
“I know.”
“Your bedside manner could do with some work,” I point out.
“So I’ve been told,” he tells me, nodding like he agrees.
That earns him a point.
Almost.
Then he goes ahead and ruins it by continuing.
“If the virus is present, it may be reacting to certain conditions. Threat states. Heat chemistry. Pack bond hormones. Possibly even Alpha proximity. Your scent instability might not have been a symptom of weak blockers or stress alone. It could be your body responding to internal viral pressure.”
“That sounded rude.”
“It… wasn’t meant to.”
“Tell that to my dramatic body. It’s deeply offended right now.”
Maine laughs once, a terrible little sound. Then he covers his mouth with a disbelieving shake of his head. Like he can’t wrap his mind around everything Mercer is saying.
The doc keeps going. “What happened in the hallway, the Purge Event, seems to have been a triggered response. Davis touched you. Ewan was injured. You were cornered and threatened with a forced claim. Your body interpreted it as a survival event and activated accordingly.”
“Activated,” I repeat blandly. The word tastes like NOVAC. Subject activated, asset responsive, viable outcome. Future use.
Kaito’s chair creaks, because he can feel it. The old language slipping under the door like a thin sheet of paper.
Mercer feels it too, because his entire face changes and he quickly says, “That was a poor choice of wording.”
“Mhm,” I answer.
He nods. “I’m sorry.”
Hale’s eyes sharpen from where he’s sitting. “Are you saying she can control the infection?”
“No,” Mercer answers immediately. “What I am saying is that I suspect her body might be preventing possible progression. More than that, it might actually be altering whatever viral component is present into a stable state.”
“Which means cure research,” Hale is quick to note.
And there it is, folks. Hope dressed in steel boots and stepping on my fucking throat.
Maine stands so fast his chair slams into the wall behind him. With an Alpha snarl I’ve only seen a handful of times growing up, he growls, “Absolutely fucking not.”
Fletcher reaches for the back of his shirt, but Maine doesn’t sit back down.
“No one is cutting pieces off my sister just because you heard the word cure and lost your fucking minds. No one is touching her,” he warns harshly.
“No one said that,” Valeria says cautiously.
“Not yet, you didn’t. Not fucking yet,” Maine snaps back, and the woman flinches back at the venom in his voice.
Hale’s gaze hardens. “If her blood can help stop people turning—”
“She has a name,” Ewan interrupts the commander, his voice low and missing the usual joking hue to it. Welsh edges now roughened by pain and anger.
Hale looks over at him.
Ewan doesn’t even blink. “Start using it.”
My chest tightens. Ewan’s bond is hot enough to burn, and Kaito’s is worse. His isn’t hot or loud. It’s just one dark, steady thought without words.
Say the word, and we leave.
I don’t say it, but not because I don’t want to.
Because if I run now, they’ll chase the idea of me that much harder.
I already know how this shit works. NOVAC has already taught me that without ever once meeting me.
People fear what they don’t understand, but they always use what they think they do.
I look over at Mercer. “Say the rest.”
He exhales.
“You’re not simply surviving whatever NOVAC put into motion,” he says quietly. “I strongly believe your body might be stabilizing it.”
For a weighted moment, no one speaks. Mercer’s words land all kinds of wrong in my brain, but not because they don’t make sense and not because I don’t understand them. I do. I understand enough.
The thing in me might not be gone. It might be sitting there, quiet until it’s not.
I curl my hand under the table, and Ewan feels it through the bond. His fear hits bright and quick, but he holds himself still. Kaito’s comes a little slower, a dark pressure building under my ribs. Not pushing, just bracing.
Mercer continues, a little more carefully now.
“Your father’s notes suggested he was searching for exactly this.
Not sterilizing immunity. Stabilization.
A way to keep the virus present but non-progressive.
If your body is doing that naturally, or because of something done before you were even born, then yes, your blood could be important. ”
“Blood?” Maine asks.
Ellis points a gloved finger at him. “Simmer down. No one is taking anything from anyone without explicit consent. So sit the hell down before I sedate the room in alphabetical order.”
Maine sits, just barely.
I stare at Mercer. “Am I contagious?”
“There’s no evidence of that.”
“Can I turn?”
“I… don’t know.”
The honesty slaps harder than his comfort would have.
“Can I trigger again?”
Mercer sighs as his face grows tight again. “It’s possible.”