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THIRTY-SEVEN

THE FINAL TOAST

~JINX~

I sit cross-legged on the institutional floor, staring at the crystal glass filled with suspiciously clear liquid that appeared alongside our victory feast.

The refreshments materialized through hidden panels the moment we completed Corvus's psychological gauntlet—food and drink that speaks to celebration rather than simple sustenance.

Too convenient.

Too perfectly timed.

Too fucking suspicious.

"It's probably poisoned," I announce with characteristic directness while rotating the glass between my palms, liquid catching fluorescent lighting with prismatic clarity that seems almost too pure for institutional provision.

The collective sigh from my four Alphas resonates through the chamber with exasperation that suggests this isn't the first time I've questioned institutional generosity or administrative motivation during our reunification process.

"The timer is almost up," Riot states with practical assessment that acknowledges temporal pressure while expressing frustration at my continued hesitation. "We all drank ours and we're fine."

His irritation carries territorial undertones that speak to Alpha protective instincts warring with tactical impatience.

Pack leadership demanding progression over unnecessary caution, yet Alpha biology recognizes legitimate concern about potential threats to Omega welfare and continued survival.

"Look at us," Ash adds with sardonic gesture that encompasses their obviously functional states despite consuming identical refreshments. "Do we look poisoned to you?"

His scarred features carry amusement beneath surface exasperation.

Six years of institutional torture has apparently refined his appreciation for irony and dark humor, survival creating perspective that transforms potential death into casual conversation topic.

"Still suspicious," I maintain with stubborn conviction that acknowledges their logic while expressing continued wariness about institutional motivation and administrative timing.

Something about perfect provision feels calculated rather than generous.

Press doesn't operate through simple kindness or genuine consideration for subject welfare. Every gesture serves specific purpose within broader strategic framework designed to achieve institutional objectives rather than pack satisfaction.

"It would be foolish for Press to try killing you off now when we're so close," Ash observes with tactical precision that acknowledges institutional investment alongside entertainment value. "Too much audience investment, too much revenue potential."

The assessment carries disturbing accuracy about our status as entertainment rather than test subjects.

Understanding that survival depends on maintaining audience engagement and commercial viability rather than simple institutional curiosity or scientific advancement.

"But we have to be logical about it," Riot counters with alpha authority that demands rational assessment over emotional reaction or instinctive suspicion.

His leadership assertion triggers immediate response from Sable's judicial nature.

"That's the most reasonable thing an Alpha leader could say," Sable responds with mock praise that carries sardonic appreciation beneath surface acknowledgment. "Such intelligence. Such tactical brilliance."

The backhanded compliment lands with surgical precision designed to irritate rather than genuinely appreciate.

Judicial observation masked as territorial recognition, analytical assessment disguised as pack hierarchy acknowledgment.

Riot's expression darkens with territorial challenge that bypasses diplomatic consideration in favor of direct confrontation and physical threat.

"Fuck off or I'll punch your face," he growls with promise that carries absolute conviction despite obvious pack loyalty and cooperative necessity.

Alpha territorialism asserting dominance over judicial condescension and intellectual superiority.

Designation dynamics operating beyond rational consideration when pride and authority intersect with systematic pressure and environmental stress.

Before territorial dispute can escalate into physical confrontation, Corvus's clinical voice cuts through mounting tension with characteristic precision.

"Press won't kill Jinx," he states with certainty that acknowledges institutional reality while providing tactical reassurance and logical framework for continued advancement.

His confidence proves so absolute it draws immediate attention from pack dynamics toward individual assessment and information gathering.

All four pairs of eyes shift toward him with curiosity that transcends simple tactical interest to encompass genuine concern about knowledge sources and institutional understanding.

"Why?" Sable questions with judicial precision that demands a comprehensive explanation rather than simple assertion or unsupported confidence.

Corvus continues methodical skinning of some exotic fruit that none of us recognize despite institutional provision.

Where the hell did he even get that thing?

The chamber contained refreshments and basic furniture when we arrived, but fresh fruit wasn't part of the standard entertainment package or celebration provision.

Not that anyone feels inclined to question mysterious fruit acquisition when more pressing concerns demand attention.

His knife moves with surgical precision that transforms simple food preparation into artistic expression, each cut revealing flesh beneath protective exterior with methodical thoroughness.

"I made a deal with him," Corvus responds with casual delivery that transforms devastating revelation into conversational aside, "or else I was going to kill myself after Jinx was taken."

The admission hangs in recycled air like a suspended sentence.

Suicide threat used as a negotiation tactic.

Institutional blackmail disguised as self-determination.

Psychological manipulation is applied to administrative pressure rather than personal survival.

The casual tone makes the confession more disturbing rather than less.

Understanding that enhanced perception allows Corvus to read institutional personnel with devastating accuracy, psychological assessment provides leverage that transcends simple subject status or administrative hierarchy.

He knew exactly what buttons to push.

What threats would prove effective against institutional investment and entertainment value?

How to transform systematic weakness into tactical advantage.

"You threatened suicide to protect me?" I question with a mixture of gratitude and horror at the psychological manipulation required for such systematic emotional extortion.

The implications prove staggering.

Someone willing to weaponize their own mortality for pack protection.

Emotional investment transcending self-preservation in favor of strategic advantage and territorial loyalty.

Love manifested through systematic psychological warfare.

His dark eyes meet mine with intensity that acknowledges both tactical necessity and genuine emotional investment despite clinical delivery and analytical detachment.

"Logical conclusion," he responds with characteristic precision that reduces emotional sacrifice to practical consideration and strategic assessment. "Dead subjects provide no entertainment value. Dead Omegas generate no revenue. Dead pack members eliminate audience investment."

The clinical framework can't completely mask underlying emotional motivation.

Strategic reasoning serves a genuine connection despite attempts to maintain psychological distance and analytical objectivity.

Understanding that some truths prove too dangerous for direct acknowledgment when survival depends on maintaining tactical facades and emotional protection.

Time pressure reasserts dominance over philosophical consideration as the countdown timer continues marking temporal limitation and advancement requirements.

Two minutes remaining until whatever institutional deadline triggers the next phase progression or a systematic consequence for delayed compliance.

I rise with fluid grace despite lingering soreness from comprehensive territorial claiming.

Four knots in rapid succession have left my internal muscles tender yet somehow more sensitive, designation response creating heightened awareness alongside physical adjustment to pack formation and territorial establishment.

The glass feels heavier than simple liquid should warrant.

Symbolic weight rather than physical mass.

Final gesture before whatever systematic revelation or institutional challenge awaits the pack's completion and comprehensive unity.

"Well, two minutes left," I announce with resignation that acknowledges temporal pressure while expressing continued wariness about institutional motivation. "I better down it."

Pause for dramatic effect proves necessary despite time limitations.

Truth demands acknowledgment before potential consequences eliminate the opportunity for honest disclosure and emotional vulnerability.

"But if I die," I continue with careful emphasis that transforms casual observation into comprehensive declaration, "I actually love each of you."

The words land with seismic impact that transcends simple emotional confession to encompass foundational truth about pack formation and individual investment.

Not strategic manipulation or calculated vulnerability.

Genuine recognition that survived systematic conditioning and institutional pressure designed to prevent exactly such an authentic connection and emotional development.

Silence stretches through chamber acoustics as understanding crystallizes regarding weight and significance of direct emotional declaration rather than implied affection or tactical cooperation.

None of them expected comprehensive honesty.

None prepared for authentic emotional vulnerability disguised as a casual farewell.