Page 25

" I need to stop working so late."

I rub my eyes and stare at the blurry spreadsheets on my computer screen. The numbers have started dancing, which means I've been at this for too long. My office feels like a prison tonight with no way to escape.

My phone buzzes against the desk, and Leo's name flashes across the screen.

Dahlia may have found the cure. Mara's blood is clear, and the other infected shifter's too. But we are still monitoring their vitals.

My heart jumps into my throat as I read the message for the third time to make sure I haven't hallucinated from exhaustion.

"Holy shit," I whisper to the empty room. "She actually did it."

I type back quickly: I'm on my way.

I am pushing away from my desk and grab my jacket from the back of my chair. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, I feel something close to hope. If Dahlia's cure is successful, we can halt Hammond's containment plan. We can save thousands of lives. We can make things right.

I'm halfway to the door when it swings open without warning.

"Going somewhere, Blackthorn?"

The voice freezes me in place. General Hammond stands in my doorway, flanked by two men in dark suits. His military uniform is impeccable as always, and his medals gleam under the office lights.

"Hammond," I manage. "This is unexpected."

He steps into my office without invitation, a predatory smile on his face. "Long time no see, old friend. It's almost like you've been avoiding me."

I force myself to stand taller and square my shoulders. "I've been busy."

"So, I've heard." He gestures for his men to wait outside, then closes the door. "You're running a pharmaceutical empire, playing hero to the dogs." He spits the last word.

"If you're referring to shifters, I'd appreciate if you didn't use slurs in my office."

Hammond laughs and it sounds like gravel under boots. "My, my. Look how far you've fallen. You're defending them now?"

"What do you want?" I move back behind my desk.

"What I've always wanted." He walks to my window and looks out at the city below. "What we both wanted once."

"I never wanted what you're doing."

He turns, eyes cold. "No? You didn't want power? Recognition? To rise above your... limitations?" His gaze flicks down my body, a reminder of what he knows about me.

"You lied to me," I say, curling my fingers into fists. "You said we were creating something to help shifters enhance and control their abilities."

"And we did! Just not in the way you imagined." He shrugs, unapologetic. "Control comes in many forms, Evan. Sometimes it's giving someone the reins. Sometimes it's taking them away entirely."

"You wanted to create a weapon."

"No. I wanted to create a tool." Hammond sits on the edge of my desk. "One that would have put the government in the palm of our hands. We could have ruled the world together, you and I."

"By killing innocent people?"

"By controlling a threat." His voice hardens. "But your precious morality had to stand in the way. You pulled out just when we were making progress."

"You blame me? For not wanting to be part of genocide?"

"I blame you for the virus being imperfect." He leans forward and jabs a finger at me. "If you hadn't pulled your funding, your scientists, your resources, we would have perfected it and made it controllable."

"You're insane."

"Whatever you say." Hammond stands again, pacing the length of my office. "Do you know what happens when shifters lose control? When they transform in public? People die, Evan. Human people."

"So, your solution is to kill all shifters or round them up like animals?"

"My solution is to control the threat. By any means necessary." He stops and fixes on me with a hard stare. "But you were always too soft. Too... conflicted."

"Because I have a conscience?"

Hammond laughs again. "Because you're a coward. You couldn't commit. Not to the research, not to the goal, not even to your own nature."

"My nature is none of your business."

"Oh, but it is." He steps closer, voice dropping. "Your insecurity is what made you perfect for this project. You are a Half-human, half-shifter, who belongs nowhere. So, you're always trying to prove yourself. That hunger is what I banked on when I brought you in."

My jaw clenches so tight I'm surprised my teeth don't crack. "You don't know me."

"I know you better than you think." His smile is vicious. "I know you wanted that enhancer we were developing. Not just for profit, but for yourself. So, you can finally feel whole."

I'd never admitted it, not even to myself, but part of me had hoped the research might help me unlock more of my shifter side

"It doesn't matter now," I say. "We've found a cure."

Hammond's eyebrows rise slightly, and it's the first genuine surprise I've seen from him.

"A cure? For my virus?"

"It's not yours anymore." I feel a surge of satisfaction at his reaction. "We're holding a press conference tomorrow. And I will announce your role in creating the virus."

For a moment, Hammond looks genuinely concerned. Then his face smoothly breaks into a smile before he starts laughing hysterically.

"You think you've won, don't you?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "But you'll always be five steps behind, Blackthorn. It's almost endearing."

"What are you talking about?"

"You think I came here without a plan? Without insurance?" He straightens his uniform jacket. "I may have lost once boy, but I never lose twice."

Something cold slithers down my spine. "What have you done?"

Hammond pulls out his phone, taps the screen a few times, then turns it toward me. The video shows a dark room with a single chair in the center. And tied to that chair, head slumped forward, is Dahlia.

My blood turns to ice. "If you've hurt her…"

"She's merely sedated." Hammond pulls the phone back and slips it into his pocket. "For now."

"Let her go." My voice drops to a dangerous growl. "She has nothing to do with this."

"On the contrary. Dr. Baldwin has everything to do with this." Hammond's smile widens. "She's an Omega, and she's also researching the cure. She's the most valuable asset on the planet right now."

How does he know she's an Omega?

"What do you want?" I ask, forcing my voice to remain steady.

"Simple. You will do me one favor."

"And if I refuse?"

Hammond sighs, like I'm a child asking stupid questions. "Then you'll never see her again. And neither will your little pack of Alpha dogs."

The thought of Dahlia in Hammond's hands makes my vision blur with rage. I take a step forward before I can stop myself.

"I wouldn't." Hammond gestures toward the door, where his men wait. "I have snipers positioned outside this building. One word from me, and you'll never make it to the elevator."

"You won't get away with this."

"I already have." He moves toward the door. "You have until midnight tomorrow to decide. I'll text you the location."

"How do I know she's still alive?"

Hammond pauses with his hand on the doorknob. "You don't. That's what faith is for, isn't it?"

"I want proof. Make a video call or something."

He considers this for a moment. "Fine. Once you have decided to work with me, I'll arrange a brief call. Just to ease your mind."

"What exactly do you want?"

"I have to know you will do it first, Evan. I can't give out my trump card just yet." His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "It's your choice. You can either get her back in one piece or…"

"You're a fucking psychopath."

"Sticks and stones." Hammond opens the door. "Remember, midnight tomorrow. And if you alert the authorities, she dies. Immediately and painfully. Or after I have my men fill her with their semen. That would be a sight."

"You fucking bastard. Don’t you dare touch her!"

He waves me away like I am a fly as he steps out. His men fall into formation behind him. Just before the door closes, he looks back at me.

"Oh, and Evan? Don't try to be clever. You were never very good at it."

He gives me that cold, satisfied smile.

"And remember," he says, "if you tell anyone... by the time you finish the sentence, Dahlia will already be dead."