Page 58

"I've given her plenty of space." I run a hand through my hair, probably making it stick up in all directions. "She just found out I helped create the virus that's killing shifters. Space isn't going to fix that."

"Nothing will fix that," Onyx growls from his position by the window.

Axl, sprawled across the couch like he owns the place, watches me with an unnerving intensity. "So, you really did it? Created this plague thing?"

"I didn't know what it would become," I snap, tired of explaining myself.

"But you did it," Axl persists.

I clench my jaw. "Yes."

The silence that follows is heavy with judgment. I deserve it, but that doesn't make it easier to bear.

"Fuck this," I push away from the wall. "I need to talk to her."

Leo steps forward. "She asked not to be disturbed."

"Move," I say quietly.

Something in my voice must convince him I'm serious because he steps aside, though reluctantly.

I walk down the hallway to Dahlia's room and stand outside her door for a moment, gathering my courage. Then I knock softly.

"Who is it?" Her voice sounds exhausted.

"It's me. Evan."

A pause. "Come in."

I push the door open slowly. The room is dimly lit, just a small lamp casting shadows across the walls. Dahlia sits on the edge of her bed, still wearing the same clothes from earlier. Her eyes are red-rimmed, her curls wild from running her hands through them repeatedly.

"Hey," I say, closing the door behind me.

"Hey yourself." She doesn't look up.

I cross the room and sit beside her on the bed, careful to leave space between us. "How's the patient?"

"He's stable." She rubs her eyes. "I had to put him in a medically induced coma. His body was tearing itself apart."

"I'm sorry."

"Are you?" Now she looks at me.

"Yes," I say simply. "For everything."

She studies my face, searching for lies. "You almost let him die. You sat on information that could have helped me save him."

"I know." I look down at my hands. "I hate what I've done, Dahlia. I hate the part I played in all this. That's why I'm trying to fix it."

"By throwing money at the problem or by hiding in your fancy safe house while others suffer?"

"By finding you," I counter, meeting her gaze. "The best geneticist in the country. Maybe the world."

She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Flattery won't save you, Evan."

"It's not flattery if it's true." I shift slightly, turning to face her more fully. "I will do everything in my power to make this right. Whatever you need, equipment, resources, test subjects, it's yours."

"What I needed was the truth from the beginning." She pulls her knees up to her chest, making herself smaller. "Do you have any idea how much time I wasted trying to understand this virus? Time I could have spent working on a cure?"