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Lyrica huddled at her desk, a space heater from the new shipment blasting at her feet. No matter what she did, she couldn’t seem to get warm. Outside her office door, two guards stood at attention, while Vero busily tortured Coron for information in some underground cell. Vero thought there were six members of the cell who wore the weird symbol, and with four dead, that left two—Coron and someone un known. For now.

Which one of them was attacking human females?

She had discovered an unopened box of tea and deemed it safe to drink. More of the Kurjans had fallen ill, and Fizzlewick still hadn’t identified the source of the poisoned food. Even the chef had succumbed. At this point, they couldn’t be sure if the poisoning was accidental—or something far more sinister.

Taking another sip, her mind scattered and refused to focus. She set the mug down and stared at her computer console, deciding to take a chance. Dialing up Hope, she waited, and soon her friend’s face appeared on the screen.

“Hey.” Hope’s voice sounded bright, though her sharp blue eyes immediately searched Lyrica’s expression. “Vero called Paxton earlier about the illness and about your near kidnapping. Are you okay?”

“I’m not physically ill, but my mind is spinning,” Lyrica admitted, her words tumbling out before she could think. “Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like it. Vero is such a good guy. He gave up the crown for Paxton, supports him every way he can. He’s selfless. Loyal. But—” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I thought I could save him. God, I f eel so stupid.”

“Who says you can’t?” Hope replied, her cheerfulness intact, though her gaze turned serious.

Lyrica’s chest tightened as the memories clawed at her. “You didn’t see him kill. It was…terrifying.” She hesitated before lowering her voice. “I think it was because of me.”

“Oh, it was absolutely because of you,” Hope said ma tter-of-factly.

Lyrica blinked. “Hey, you’re supposed to make me feel bett er, not worse.”

“Nope.” Hope grinned, shaking her head. “I’m here to give you the truth, not coddle you. You’re in danger because you’re his mate. That’s how it works.”

“Remind me not to put myself in danger again,” L yrica muttered.

Hope snorted. “Yeah, believe me, I’ ve been there.”

Lyrica studied her friend through the screen, noting the worn expression softened only by her easy smile. “You really do get it, don’t you? Paxton would tear the world apart for you, wouldn’t he?” Like actually and not figur atively do it.

Hope’s smile faded into something quieter, a little heavier. “ Yes, he would.”

Before today, such devotion had sounded romantic, almost poetic. Now, Lyrica understood the brutal reality behi nd those words.

“Vero would never hurt you, though,” Hope added gently. “You kno w that, right?”

Lyrica exhaled shakily. “Yes. I do know that. But I don’t know if…”

“If what?”

“How can I love someone who kills like that?” Lyrica stared d own at her tea.

Hope leaned back, her own expression shifting. “Ah. That.” She rubbed at her temple. “Yeah, I get it. You grew up human, not among immortals who are always at war, so it’s a lot to take in. But…what would you do t o protect him?”

The question hit harder than Lyrica expected. She reached for her tea blindly, taking a sip while her mind spun. “I guess…I ’d defend him.”

Hope nodded. “There’s your answer. That’s what you do for the pe ople you love.”

“We haven’t talked about love,” Lyrica admitted, her voice soft. “I don’t know how he feels about—well , any of this.”

Hope held up her hand, her palm bruised. “I doubt he knows how to talk about feelings. You might have to lead hi m on that one.”

Lyrica’s gaze sharpened. “Wait, why is your hand bruised?”

“I was sparring with Collin,” Hope said with a shrug. “I just haven’t bothered to send any healing ce lls to it yet.”

Lyrica’s lips quirked. “I have to ask—does everything taste amazing to you? Like, is food just bey ond excellent?”

Hope snickered. “I don’t know. But I don’t like broccoli.”

“Huh. Now I want to try some to see if I like it,” Lyrica mused, h alf to herself.

Her thoughts drifted to earlier, to the way she’d offered her wrist without hesitation. Vero could have drained her dry, and she’d have let him, just to make sure he healed from that bul let wound. “He got shot in the face,” she murmured. “He killed one immortal for me, knocked another out like i t was nothing.”

Hope, unbothered, peeled open a candy bar and took a bite. “Yep. That’s how they are. Makes you feel all the responsibilit y, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.” Lyrica’s voice rose. “Exactly. I didn’t think I’d feel like this. I mean, I’m glad he can protect me—I’ve never felt safer—but now I feel like it’s my job to make sure he do esn’t have to.”

“Exactly,” Hope said with a knowing nod. “It’s a partnership. You make his life easier; he does the same for you.”

Lyrica sat back, her tea forgotten. “I don’t want to get anyone killed.”

Hope tilted her head, her smile sly. “You love him.”

“Shut up,” Lyrica muttered, her cheeks heating. “When are yo u coming home?”

The screen fell silent as both women paused. Lyrica hadn’t missed the way Hope’s brows arched at her choice of words. Coming home. To the Kurjan nation. The realization tightened somethin g in her chest.

Hope, gracious as always, didn’t call her on it. “Tomorrow morning in time for the Convexus. Can’t wa it to see you.”

But half the Kurjan nation had fallen ill. So far. How could they hide that from the Cyst soldiers? Lyrica’s head began to ache.

Hope leaned closer to the camera. “Forget about the violence for a minute.”

“Gladly,” Lyrica replied, her sho ulders sagging.

“How’s the sex?” Hope asked, h er grin impish.

* * * *

Vero was on the third hour of torturing the prisoner for information. The bastard wasn’t giving anything up easily. He knew he was going to die today, but Vero intended to make him beg for it first. Blood dripped from the edge of his blade, pooling on the cold floor, and Vero decided to take a break. Sometimes mental torture worked better than physical.

Vero exited the room and glanced down at his blood-soaked clothes. He paused on the steps, still feeling the dull ache in his cheekbone. He’d heal, but the residual pain annoyed him. Jogging outside, he stopped abruptly, noticing the eerie stillness that had settled over the camp.

He stomped inside the main lodge, only to pause when a few females shrieked. He glanced down at his gore-covered shirt and jeans and tried for casual. “I s kinned a deer.”

Lyrica’s sharp gaze locked on him. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” He scanned the room, his eyes landing on the assembled human females, who stared at him as though he’d just stepped out of a horror movie. “Does everyone h ere feel okay?”

“Not really,” a blonde offered, her voice shaky. He vaguely remembered her name—Sandy? Mandy? “You look like dea th,” she added.

He f elt like death.

Lyrica gulped. “We’re all feeling fine, but the doctor wan ts to see you.”

“I’ll be right back.” He strode toward the stairs and took them three at a time

Upstairs, he scrubbed the blood from his skin in a hot shower, his movements brisk and efficient. Once clean, he threw on fresh clothes and headed back down, his gaze immediately catching Lukas leaning heavily against the far wall next to a sitting down and pale Silas.

“Lukas,” Vero called sharply.

The younger male blinked slowly. “I promised I wouldn’t leave. I haven’t left.” His knees buckled.

“Lukas,” Lyrica yelled as the kid’s eyes rolled ba ck in his head.

Vero surged forward, catching Lukas before he hit the ground. Throwing the unconscious soldier over his shoulder, he looked down at Silas. “Ho w bad are you?”

“Not great.” Silas pushed to his feet, swaying, his face grave. “Most of the soldiers are down, but I’m armed and can shoot. I’ll protect the females. Just get me backup when you can.”

“I’ll be back,” Vero said. His gaze lingered on Lyrica until she nodded, and then he strode outside into the frigid air. Soldiers lined the area, most of them slumped on the ground or huddled over the snow, their faces pale and sickly. A few were violently retching onto the ice, the sound grating on Vero’s already frayed nerves.

He shoved open the door to the medical facility, his jaw tight as he placed Lukas on one of the beds. “Do we know anything?”

The doctor crouched to check the pulse of an unconscious soldier. His lab coat flapped as he stood, his lined face creased with worry. “No.” Fizzlewick threw up his hands, exasperation sharp in his voice. “Everyone’s sick. The barracks are a disaster zone—vomit, diarrhea, you name it. People are stuck in their cabins.”

“You’re taking note of what every one has eaten?”

“Yes, and so far, no common denominator. We have so many schedules, and some are too sick to speak.” Fizzlewick’s movements were quick as he checked Lukas’s pulse and examined his pupils. “I talked to the chef. He’s sicke r than anyone.”

“So it’s the food? ” Vero pressed.

Fizzlewick looked around at the line of groaning soldiers. “How? You’re fine. I’m fine. The females are fine. That’s the key. Why are the females just fine? They’ve eaten the same food. At least a couple of them should be ill.”

“So, if this just affects all of the males, it’s deliberate. But why are you and I healthy?” Vero asked, his tone sharper than intended.

Fizzlewick sagged against the wall. “I started thinking. The only common denominator that males have and females do not is the Sun shine Cure. Could somebody have contaminated it?” Fizzlewick straightened, his glasses slipping down his nose. “Except y ou aren’t ill.”

Vero’s fists clenched at his sides. “Ne ither are you.”

The doctor hesitated before adjusting his glasses. “Full disclosure—I don’t take the inoculations.”

“What?” Vero frowned, a new thread of unease tightenin g in his chest.

Fizzlewick pushed up his glasses, his movements frenetic. “I don’t like it,” the doctor muttered. “Never have liked the sun. Don’t go into it. Don’t need to be inoculat ed against it.”

Intere sting. “Go on.”

Fizzlewick hesitated, his brow furrowing. “If it’s the inoculations, it makes sense that I’m not ill. But you…” He pointed at Vero, his finger shaking slightly. “You’ve had the Sunshine Cure, and ye t you’re fine.”

The revelation hit Vero hard. “Just Kurjans require inoculations. How easy would it be to get to t he concoction?”

“Very. Why would we guard it?” Fizzlewick admitted. “But that can’t be it. I personally inoculated you last week. Some of these guys haven’t had a shot for two weeks, yet suddenly the y’re all sick.”

Vero scanned the room, his gaze lingering on the two soldiers curled in the corner, groaning in agony. “Is th ere a pattern?”

Fizzlewick nodded and moved toward a counter cluttered with hastily scribbled notes. “Yes. The older the Kurjan, the longer it took for the illness to hit them. Remember, we started the inoculations by age? I injected the younger soldiers yesterday and the day before, and they’re already sick. But the older soldiers, who got their injections last week, are just now falling ill.” He crossed the room to a large fridge and yanked it open. “I need to r un some tests.”

“Agreed,” Vero said tightly, “but we need to find out fast. Everyone’s weak. There’s no one left to defend the territory.”

Fizzlewick slammed the fridge shut and turned, his face pale but determined. “We have to figure out why you’re fine. Maybe the cure is all right and they were all infected some other way. I have new lab equipment I haven’t unpacked yet.”

“Where?” Vero demanded, his tone sharp.

“The building next door,” Fizzlewick replied, pointing out the window. “I want to use it as a dedicated lab and keep this for medical purposes. I figured, now that we’re settled, some of the mates might start having babies again. We could use the space for prenatal care.”

“One thing at a time.” Vero cut him off, his voice steely. “We need to figure out what’s happening here. Ha s anyone died?”

“Not yet,” Fizzlewick said grimly, “but several have slipped into comas. Kurjans don’t go into comas, Vero. I’ve never seen anyth ing like this.”

“Come on, Doc. Show me the lab,” Vero said, motioning t oward the door.

Fizzlewick cast one last glance at the unconscious soldiers before leading th e way outside.

The biting wind stung Vero’s cheeks as they navigated the icy path, stepping over more sick soldiers who had collapsed onto the ground. The air smelled faintly of vomit and misery, and Vero’s temper simmered. Inside the new lab, he stopped short. “You’ve already started se tting this up.”

Fizzlewick hustled toward a stack of boxes. “I figured we’d need it eventually.” He pointed to a sleek counter. “I requisitioned that. Pre tty nice, huh?”

Vero ignored the comment, his focus on the array of equipment Fizzlewick began unpacking—microscopes, centrifuges, and instruments Vero would love to use again. “We need answers. Fast.”

Fizzlewick straightened, his expression suddenly intense. “Talk to me, Vero. Please.”

That was a fair request. He no longer had a choice. So much for keeping his secret. Vero lifted his palm, the mark faint but still visible.

“Holy shit,” Fizzlewick whispered, his jaw slackening.

“Exactly,” Vero muttered.

The doctor’s mind seemed to race as he paced the room. “You’re part demon. That’s why you were asking about the crossbreeding experiments and any remaining me dical records.”

“Yes. This mark came as a hell of a surprise.” Vero didn’t like exposing his secret, but he didn’t have a choice.

“So, it’s the demon blood that has protected you,” Fizzlewick concluded. “That’s the only explanation. Whatever’s in the inoculations can harm Kurjans, but not you. That also means someone deliberately tam pered with it.”

Vero’s jaw tightened. “The medical facility wasn’t exactly under lock and key. Everyo ne had access.”

Fizzlewick nodded. “You need to find out who. This is a targeted attack. Making the entire territory ill at once i s no accident.”

“I’ll continue questioning the Defender in my cell,” Vero said. “I’ll get answers. Soon.”

“Good.” Fizzlewick turned back to his equipment. “I need your blood. I’ll analyze it and see if there’s anything in it we can use to create a defense. We need to figure out whether this is fatal or if it’ll burn out like a virus.”

“Do it,” Vero ordered, his mind already shifting to the larger implications as he held out his arm for the doctor to draw blood. “Let’s keep this between us for n ow, all right?”

Fizzlewick pulled blood and then retracted the syringe, turning toward his equipment. “Of course. Also, I need somebody who’s still upright to start checking on Kurjans out in the cabins. I’m concern ed about them.”

“I’m the only one who should be driving right now.” Vero rolled down his sleeve and walked out of the lab, letting the frigid air cool his temper as he pulled out his phone. His thumb hesitated over the screen for a split second before dialing a number he never thought he’d use. The line connected on the first ring.

“Vero,” Hunter’s voice came through, immediately alert. “What’s wrong?”

Vero blew out a breath, Hunter’s real face flashing on the screen. He looked like his father, the king. Broad face, sharp angles, metallic blue eyes. “You were better lookin g as a Kurjan.”

Hunter chuckled. “You would say that. What’s going on? You wouldn’t call unless i t was serious.”

Vero’s jaw clenched. “I might need the Realm’s help.”

Hunter sobered instantly, his predatory eyes narrowing. “What kind of help?”

“A virus issue. If I remember right, you and the queen know a thing or tw o about those.”

Hunter’s expression hardened. “Tell me what you need.”

Vero exhaled slowly. “We’ve been attacked from the inside, and that’s all I know. Paxton has to return to the territory tomorrow morning, no matter what, so I have to get this figured out. We have a contagion on our hands that has infected every Kurjan, and we’re just getting our lab up and running.” If Paxton asked the Realm for protection of the Kurjan territory, would the Kurjan nation rejec t him for good?

Hunter’s voice remained calm. “I’ll call in my mother. For now, you don’t look ill. Are you sure all the Kurjans are infected?”

“Yea h. About that…”