Epilogue
O n our first day back at the DEA, we expect to walk in low profile, as usual. But the second we step through the door, every agent in the office stands up and starts clapping. A slow, steady ripple of applause spreads until the whole room is on their feet.
It’s weird as hell, but we hold our heads high, stunned.
We’ll have to learn how to handle recognition and respect from humans without looking like we just got caught stealing cookies.
Midmorning, I hear a voice that doesn’t belong: Commander Eneas. A minute later, he steps into the room, followed closely by his brothers.
Something’s really, really off.
Scouse lets them use her office for privacy. It’s really cramped with the six of us inside, all standing, since there’s no room to sit.
“I won’t waste time,” Julius says. “You didn’t just take down a trafficking ring — that trial was a major blow to the Department of Defense, too. The problem is, they’re not used to losing.”
He hands me a folder. The first thing I see is the university seal: West Kempton, Department of Neurophysiology.
I flip it open and pull the papers free.
Subject: Transfer Request
Recipient: Military Aegis Board
My pulse spikes. Jay leans in over my shoulder, Shane stepping closer behind me, both reading in silence.
The letter is cold and clinical.
Per our long-standing agreement with the MAB and the Artificial Packs Research Initiative, we request immediate return of the following experimental assets: Homo gregalis, Subjects A228, A006, and A304. Bonded trio currently operating under the civilian aliases Jayson, Kory, and Shane Larsen.
The three subjects are the most successful outcomes of the program to date, having formed a stable pack, mated to a Prime nyra, achieved elite law enforcement status, and reached significant public visibility.
As such, their return is essential for continued longitudinal assessment and behavioral analysis in support of future iterations of the program.
My vision tunnels.
Attached behind the letter are scanned copies of old documents: three identical terms of donation.
One with my name on it, signed by Owen Williams, one of my fathers. The second, with Jay’s name, signed by Dwayne Davis, his father. The third, with Shane’s, signed by Linda Miller, his grandmother.
I stare down at them, speechless. Jay and Shane are frozen beside me .
Commander Eneas’s expression is like stone. “We’ve been trying to reach Steve Bureau,” he says. “But he’s gone silent. Which is... unusual. He always loved attention. But now, nothing.”
He folds his arms, voice tightening. “All intel points to pressure. The university’s being squeezed. Last week, several major donors pulled out, like someone high up made a few calls.”
He meets my eyes. “The DoD is sending a message. Not just to you, but to every aegis pack watching. They can’t let what happened in that trial stand.
You put a human in the hospital and walked out free, and now public opinion has turned in your favor, like it’s acceptable for an aegis to hit a human.
That’s not just a legal problem; that’s a political one.
So now they’re reminding us who’s really in charge. ”
He holds my stare. “You’ve got two options. You can turn yourselves in and crawl back like obedient assets to Steve Bureau’s lab, or you can fight this.”
I don’t blink. “We fight.”
Eneas nods once. “Good,” he says. “Because humans don’t touch Special Ops. You fight, we fight beside you.”