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She seems surprised by my concession, and she raises her eyebrows slightly before she turns away to prep her equipment.

The detective hovers nearby, and the uneasy truce between us hangs by a thread. I'm still fighting the urge to punch him again for touching what feels inexplicably like mine.

A low groan from the examination table interrupts my murderous thoughts.

"He's waking up," I warn, moving closer to Dahlia.

The shifter on the table starts to stir, his eyes fluttering open. The moment he realizes he's restrained; he begins thrashing against the leather straps.

Boy Scout whips out his knife faster than I can blink and positions himself between the table and Dahlia.

"Where am I?" the man croaks, voice raw like he's been screaming for hours. "What's happening?"

Dahlia steps forward, but I catch her arm, pulling her back.

"Don't," I mutter. "We don't know what he's capable of."

She shakes off my grip with an irritated huff. "You just said he can't break those restraints."

"I'd rather not test that theory with your pretty neck in biting range," I reply.

She rolls her eyes but stays put. "We're not trying to hurt you," she says to the man. "You appeared at my window and tried to break in. Do you remember anything?"

The man stares at her. "Break in? No, that's impossible. I wouldn't..." His gaze darts around the lab. "I need to go home. My wife, my kids…"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Leo asks, knife still ready.

"I was... walking. Just taking a stroll after dinner." The man's brow furrows. "Then I smelled something... something incredible. Like nothing I've ever experienced before. I needed to find it, to have it. After that... nothing."

My stomach drops. He probably smelled Dahlia in her heat. That's what drew him here.

"Where do you live?" Leo questions.

"Pinewood Estates. 437 Maple Drive. Please let me go, my family will be worried sick."

I exchange glances with Leo. That's less than a mile from here.

"We can't let you go," I say

"What? Why the hell not?" The man yanks against his restraints.

"You're infected with the Crimson Plague," I explain. "You could harm your family or others without meaning to."

His face drains of color. Then he snarls. "No. That's not... I can't be…. You're lying! Let me out of these fucking straps!"

As his anger spikes, the transformation begins again. Patches of fur sprout along his arms, his teeth elongate into fangs, then retract, then grow again. His eyes flash between human and beast.

"Jesus Christ," Leo mutters, tightening his grip on the knife.

The man howls in pain, his back arching off the table as his bones crack and reshape themselves. The restraints groan under pressure, but they hold.

"Let me go!" he screams. His voice distorts between human and animal. "LET ME GO!"

Leo steps forward and brings the hilt of his knife down hard against the man's temple. The shifter slumps, and he is unconscious once more.

Silence falls over the lab, and the only sound is our heavy breathing.

"Well," I finally say, "that was enlightening."