Chapter 30 #2
The doors inside the facility were designed to keep even a dragon at bay, but when Yasmine yanked this one open, the hinges screamed like they were being murdered.
She barreled into the room, blinking into the blinding fluorescent light. The bunker looked like the aftermath of a teenage house party. Shattered bottles of alcohol were strewn across the ground like corpses. Drawers and cupboards were ransacked.
Rebecca sucked in a disbelieving breath. “Oh my god, Yasmine.”
Yasmine snapped her head in the direction of the voice, her eyes landing on two kneeling figures.
One was Rebecca, her arms and legs covered in purple bruises—some looked fresh, others looked old.
Next to her was Jason, who didn’t acknowledge their entrance, his eyes still transfixed at something below him, his hands hidden from view.
When Rebecca got to her feet, Yasmine could see what it was the boy was so intent on paying attention to.
And it felt like giving birth again.
Wallace had been a NICU baby, yellow and early and underweight, fighting for his life from his very first breath.
Yasmine remembered the sixty-two seconds he’d spent cradled to her chest, looking up at her—she knew the exact number viscerally—before they’d whisked him away to the medical bay, insisting that he needed urgent attention.
She remembered thinking—I only just created this boy, how could he already be leaving me?
She felt the same now.
“Move,” she screamed, feeling the edges of her vision already darkening as tears ran down her face. “My darling, my darling. What did they do to you?”
Yasmine’s knees burned as she fell messily to the floor, cradling the side of his face.
The whole of him looked completely depleted.
His cheeks were sunken in, like unfilled pools.
His bones were pushing against his ribcage.
She could see his pulse fluttering light and feathery in his neck. His lips twitched.
They’d nearly drained him to completion—but fuck, he’s still alive.
Behind her, Yasmine could hear the vague buzz of a heated conversation.
Bella and Rebecca were talking, their feet padding on the floor.
More light entered the room, then less. Were they leaving?
Coming back? It was all noise to her as she pressed her lips to Wallace’s cheek, then his forehead, kissing him uselessly, as if it could heal.
“Mom…?”
Yasmine pulled away from his face like she’d been electrocuted. He had been in a daze before, but now his pupils were focusing again.
“My darling,” she breathed out. “I’m here, I’m here.”
He nodded once, weakly.
“Is Jason…? And Rebecca?”
“He’s fine. They’re both fine.”
He made a strained expression. It looked relieved.
“That’s good,” he said airily. “I think I just… met Bella’s family. I think they…”
He opened his mouth to say something else, but then his chest seized. He coughed, and blood wet his mouth.
And Yasmine saw her entire world flash black.
The walls of the room began to shake violently.
She could hear the voices whispering again in the back of her head—if he’s not here, you shouldn’t be either.
Bury the whole building. Cover yourself in debris—dark violent magma began to seep out of her hands; the cupboards tipped over, glasses shattering.
No, no, no.
“It’s happening again,” Yasmine screamed. “No, stop it. Stop it. Not now!”
She slapped herself across the face so hard that the world briefly spun.
And yet it wasn’t hard enough—the floor kept shaking, cracks exploding through the cement.
She tried to scoop under Wallace’s fragile body, tried to heave him up and carry him, but she couldn’t stop trembling. Her muscles weren’t listening to her.
But then—Wallace was being lifted, gently and easily, as if he was as light as a teddy bear. Yasmine thought for a moment that she’d had a breakthrough, that she’d finally pushed through the noise, until she saw the hands that were holding him.
They were wearing gloves.
Bella held him to her chest, cradling the back of his head, keeping him steady, giving his lungs enough room to breathe. And when she was finally happy with his position, she looked over his shoulder, her gaze connecting with Yasmine’s. Her eyes had a conviction like steel—like a mother’s.
“Yasmine,” she said. “I’ve got him.”
***
She had no idea when they’d arrived at the lab.
Up until that point, every atom of her being was concentrated on not letting it escape: her hands clapped over her ears, her eyes closed tightly like iron shutters.
She had the vague idea that they'd taken a helicopter. She'd heard the blades chopping the air above—loud as hammers. But besides that, the only thing tethering her to the present was Bella’s hand. Yasmine was clenching it so hard, her grip would have snapped a human’s wrist in two. But Bella could handle it.
That phrase kept her breathing. Bella is handling it. It was killing Yasmine not to be in control—she couldn’t even look at her child—but she knew that her being in control could shoot the helicopter straight out of the sky, and bury them all on the pavement.
So she had to trust Bella. It was inconceivable, trusting someone else with Wallace.
But her whole world had narrowed to that blind faith.
Despite her best efforts to keep the world muted, she still heard snippets of Bella and Rebecca’s conversation during the flight—conversation about what had happened.
There was something about Bella's mother threatening Rebecca's children. How Ileana had waved a picture of the three of them in front of Rebecca's face, and told her she’d have to pick between Yasmine’s trust, or their lives.
Yasmine didn’t blame her for the choice. She couldn’t have known.
But if Yasmine had heard correctly—Rebecca had tried to protect Wallace; she was the only reason Wallace was still alive at all.
Before they could finish him off, Rebecca finally persuaded them that Yasmine was arriving soon, and gave them exact instructions on which room held the contract.
They moved on before they could kill him.
Kill him.
Those two words nearly lurched the demons out of her.
She took in another sharp inhale of bleach and plastic, and risked opening her eyes.
And as she expected—they weren’t flying anymore.
They were back in Waldorf’s lab. Yasmine had been put in a chair in the corner of a room, a blanket draped over her, while Bella had laid Wallace out on the operating table.
Dr. Larson was checking his vitals. There were a bunch of medical assistants orbiting around, cleaning up.
Everyone looked calm, especially Bella. That had to be a good sign, right?
But why were they cleaning? Had they just finished a surgery? How long had Yasmine been zoning out for? She’d completely lost track of space and time.
Trying to get a grip of her surroundings, she craned her head towards the door.
It wasn't fully closed, so she could see out into the hallway of the attached Columbia science building. Where there would usually be a crowd of students clogging the hallways, the school’s arteries were now crammed with armed guards in SWAT armor, wielding stakes and machine guns. Hundreds of them.
Rebecca was clearly back in charge.
Yasmine didn’t realize she was still covering her ears until two hands laid on either side of her face, prying them off gently.
“Hi, darling.”
Hearing Bella's voice again was like coming out of a coma. Her words felt loud and jumbled even though Yasmine knew she was whispering.
But just seeing Bella was a balm for that unmooring feeling. She nearly cried, latching on to her hands like a mosquito. She felt parasitic, the way she needed her.
“Bella,” Yasmine said with a shudder, then felt nauseous again as soon as she remembered what they were doing here. “How is he?”
“Stable,” she answered immediately, sensing the panic in her voice. “He’s definitely got your genes, because he’s got one stubborn organ system. He’s going to be okay.”
The moment Yasmine heard he’s going to be okay, she sagged into Bella’s chest, her forehead pressing against the fine cloth of her lab coat.
“Fuck,” she said, letting the tears fall. “Really?”
“Of course. His mother-slash-primary-doctor was out of commission, so I had to sub in for a bit,” Bella said, wrapping a strong, protective arm around her.
“But god, he had me stressing at first. We had to intubate him, then for a few minutes I had to pump his heart manually. And once we got the rhythm back, we had to crash-cool his core temperature down to thirty-two degrees...”
Yasmine pulled back, staring at Bella in awe as she idly recounted all the measures she’d taken to keep Wallace breathing.
“And on top of all that,” Bella huffed. “I had to figure out how to turn him immortal.”
“What?”
Yasmine shot out of her chair. Bella gripped her arms, keeping her in place so she couldn’t surge forward towards the operating table.
“Yasmine, wait,” she said desperately. “He didn’t take it.”
Yasmine could hardly breathe, her throat was so dry. She looked from Bella to Wallace, who was lying there, flat and asleep. But his heartbeat was steady on the monitor.
Her shoulders sagged, but adrenaline was still flooding through her. Her head shook several times as she stared at Bella, her mouth opening and closing.
“Didn’t take what?” she forced out. “What did you do?”
Bella swallowed. She looked nervously over at the computer, where there was a single image open.
It was one they captured using the electron microscope—the image of Bella’s corroded DNA.
There was something different about it, but Yasmine couldn’t tell what from this distance, and her brain was still so foggy—
“The research,” Bella breathed out. “I finished it.”