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Vero dressed quietly, making sure the bedclothes were tucked securely around his mate. Lyrica slept peacefully, curled into a tight ball with faint traces of healing cells shimmering in the air around her. The sight surprised him. She’d gained the ability to manifest healing cells much faster than he’d anticipated. Then again, Lyrica was no ordinary female—she was his mate. Spirited, brilliant, and a touch dangerous. He couldn’t have asked for more.

A grin tugged at his lips as he walked to the window, checking the triple lock. Not that anyone in the territory was likely strong or desperate enough to scale the two stories to their bedroom, but he wouldn’t leave anything to chance. A green gun rested on her bedside table, cocked and ready for her use if needed. Quietly, he grabbed his boots and carried them out of the bedroom to avoid disturbing her.

The atmosphere felt heavy with anticipation. The day of the Convexus had arrived. Ready or not, Venus would darken the Leo Noctis tonight. He and Paxton had to bring those Cyst back i nto the nation.

In the silence of the hallway, a rare moment of peace filled him. Lyrica loved him. He’d mated her as both a demon and a Kurjan, bonding them forever. That knowledge settled into his bones, a deep sense of contentment tempering his usual sharp-edged focus. But onl y for a moment.

He couldn’t afford to bask in his happiness for too long—his people were sick, and they needed answers. His trial run and research on the blood samples should be complete by now. It was time to head b ack to the lab.

Descending the stairs, he noticed a fully armed Silas standing near the main entrance, his presence as steady as ever. The sleeping arrangements in the lodge had shifted; new females now rested on makeshift bedding, and the guards had rotated. He recognized several of the armed females as seasoned Kurjan mates. Their readiness reassured him.

Walking over, he addressed his soldi er. “Anything?”

“No,” Silas replied, his voice low to avoid disturbing the others. His lips were blue, matching the veins that stood out starkly against his pale skin. “I did sleep while Jonathan watched over this crew, and I’m good for a while. Unfortunately, Jonathan passed out, and I had a couple of the younger soldiers carry his ass to the doctor. I’ve been waiting for Fizzlewick to call, bu t no news yet.”

Vero checked his watch. “I should have results in about fifteen minutes,” he said. “I ran a series of tests on the blood samples—antigen analysis, chromosomal stability checks, and clotting facto r evaluations.”

Silas frowned. “Clo tting factors?”

Vero nodded, slipping into the mindset of the scientist he rarely admitted to being. “Viruses often alter blood’s viscosity and clotting response. If this is an engineered pathogen, I’m looking for irregularities. I also compared immune response markers to baseline samples from before we were inoculated. If there’s a shared anomaly, it’ll point to contamination in the Sunshine Cure.”

Silas exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. “Good. Let’s hope you cu re this thing.”

“I’m cautiously optimistic,” Vero said. “But don’t get your hopes too high—I need to verif y the results.”

Silas leaned back, crossing his trembling arms. “I have things covered here, and Jonathan will be back soon. He feels terrible about everything, although it was n’t his fault.”

“I’ll be in touch.” Vero moved quietly through the lodge, impressed with how the older male had stepped up to protect and defend. The calm felt fragile, the tension heavy, but he let himself enjoy the sound of quiet breathing and the occasional murmur from the sl eeping females.

He stepped outside, noting the cold bite of the predawn air. The horizon remained cloaked in shadows, with no sign of the sun breaking through. It matched the mood of the territory—waiting for answers, waiting for relief. He headed toward the lab, his mind already sifting through possibilities for what the blood tests might reveal. If he was right, and the Sunshine Cure had been compromised, they’d need to devise a countermeasure immediately. And i f he was wrong?

Well, failure wa sn’t an option.

He strode down the walkway toward the medical facility, noting the absence of soldiers in the snow. That was a good sign. He’d ordered everyone to find shelter and stick with groups of at least two or three in case anyone deteriorated suddenly. So far, no deaths had been reported, but the fear lingered.

He opened the door to the lab and stopped short. Dr. Fizzlewick sat hunched over a computer in the far corner, his focus glued to a data screen, and Jonathan lay on a stretcher attached to an IV of saline. But it was the broad-shouldered male who turned to face him that ma de Vero freeze.

“Vero,” Hunter said with a slight grin.

Vero glanced at Fizzlewick and back. “How did you get into the territory?”

Hunter rolled his naturally blue eyes. He looked odd without the purple hue. “Seriously? We’re the ones guarding the perimeter.”

Vero studied him, struck once again by how much Hunter resembled his father, whose picture had been seen far and wide in the Kurjan nation. Jet-black hair, sharp cheekbones, and those piercing eyes. Hunter was a fighting machine, but his mind was just as sharp—one of the most brilliant strategists and researchers Vero had ever known.

“You looked better as a Kurjan,” Vero muttered.

Hunter chuckled. “So you’ve said. And I’ve explained that I lied because I was undercover. But you’re still my best friend, so let’s focus on not letting yo ur people die.”

Fizzlewick glanced up briefly, then returned to his screen. The doctor had ditched his glasses, his wrinkled lab coat draped awkwardly over his lanky frame. “If we’re going to solve this, less chatting and more working ,” he muttered.

Vero’s breath heated. “Is my brother also inside the territory?” He’d wanted Paxton to stay under Realm protection until the cere mony commenced.

“Yep,” Hunter said cheerfully. “The cousins have him covered, and he’s just fine—probably at the main lodge by now. He’s a big boy, Vero.”

Yeah, but he was the king of the entire Kurjan nation. Vero glanced at his watch. He had exactly ten hours until the Cyst contingent descended upon his territory, and right now, most of his soldiers could be taken down by a mild rainstorm.

“I can help,” Hunter said, his tone more serious now. “I noticed from your antigen-binding analyses that something is off in the protein markers. It reminded me of something my mother taught me about viral mutations and cellular upta ke inhibitors.”

Vero’s interest was piqued. He moved toward a microscope. “What did you add to the analysis?”

Hunter gestured to a separate tray of slides. “I layered your samples with a viral binding agent and ran them through an active enzyme disruption model. It’s crude, but it replicates how certain pathogens latch ont o blood cells.”

Intrigued, Vero peered into the microscope. The slide revealed the binding activity of a mutated antigen inhibiting cellular repair. The virus seemed to interfere with cell regeneration pathways, which explained why healing cells weren’t functioning in the inf ected soldiers.

“I see what you mean,” Vero said. “But the problem is that these inhibitors are overriding the usual healing cell re sponses. If the virus has been engineered to disrupt cell communication, it’s targeting something uniq ue to Kurjans.”

Hunter nodded. “Exactly. And that’s why the Sunshine Cure is implicated. It’s enhancing cellular permeability to the virus, essentially creating a back door for it to replicate.”

Fizzlewick joined them, his lanky frame hovering over Vero’s shoulder. “What if you counteracted the permeability with a stabilizer? Something to reinforce the cell ular membrane?”

Vero straightened, thinking fast. “That could work, but we’d need to introduce a protein that can outcompete the virus for binding sites. Something that’s compatible with Kurjan cells but also resistant t o the antigen.”

Hunter snapped his fingers, his face lighting up. “You’re onto something with the demon blood tests, Vero, but you’re overlook ing one thing.”

Fizzlewick squinted at him. “What’s that?”

Hunter leaned forward, his voice gaining urgency. “The binding mechanism. If the virus can’t latch onto your cells, it’s not just because of the blood’s demonic origin—it’s the interaction at the chromosomal level. You’re testing pr oteins, right?”

Vero nodded. “Yes. I’ve been isolating the blood’s unique proteins, but so far, I haven’t identified which one is creati ng resistance.”

“Exactly.” Hunter gestured toward the centrifuge. “It’s not just the proteins—it’s the way the demon chromosomal pairs interact with the cellular membrane. The structural difference in demon hybrids might create a barrier that disrupts the virus’s ab ility to bind.”

Fizzlewick straightened. “So, you’re saying the resistance isn’t just biochemical. It ’s structural.”

“Exactly,” Hunter said. “If we target that mechanism directly—essentially replicate it—we can synthesize a compound that mimics the demon-specific cellular structure. That would block the virus from binding to i nfected cells.”

Vero frowned, the idea sparking possibilities. “I’ve been focusing on isolating the proteins, but if we model the membrane’s structure and reinforce it in i nfected cells…”

“…we create a shield,” Fizzlewick finished, already moving to his equipment. “We’ll need to use the blood you’ve already been working on. I can refine it through structural modeling and combine it with what’s left of the serum trials.”

Hunter nodded. “Let’s add enzyme inhibitors to disrupt the virus’s life cycle while we’re at it. If we attack from both angles—blocking binding and preventing replication—we might just h ave something.”

Vero’s mind raced. The pieces were coming together. “I’ll run simulations on how the membrane interacts with the virus. Fizzlewick, you p rep the serum.”

“I’m on it,” the doctor said, reaching fo r his pipettes.

Hunter grabbed a notebook. “I’ll handle the computational modeling. Let’s see if this idea holds up.”

For the next few hours, the three males worked in tandem, falling into an easy rhythm. Hunter isolated the key proteins from Vero’s and Paxton’s blood samples, while Vero ran compatibility tests with the infected soldiers’ blood. Fizzlewick fine-tuned the serum, adjusting ratios and runni ng simulations.

Finally, Vero held up a syringe filled with a pale blue solution. “We need a guinea pig.”

From the corner of the room, Jonathan gro aned. “Use me.”

Vero turned, frowning. “You’ve been t hrough enough.”

“I don’t care,” Jonathan rasped, forcing himself to stand. He shuffled toward them like an old human, his shoulders hunched and his movements slow. “It can’t make me f eel any worse.”

Vero hesitated, searching Jonathan’s feverish gaze. “We don’t have an antidote if th is goes wrong.”

Jonathan swayed but stood firm. “I don’t car e. Just do it.”

Hunter and Fizzlewick exchanged wary glances. Finally, Vero nodded and tapped on the syringe. He pressed it against Jonathan’s arm and inje cted the serum.

Jonathan gasped, stumbling back against the counter. His breath hitched, and his eyes fluttered shut. Hunter reached for him, but Jonathan held up a hand. “No—just giv e me a second.”

The air around him shimmered. Tiny pops of light danced like fireflies, sparking and dissipating as the energy in the room shifted. Vero stepped back, his instincts on high alert. “Wha t’s happening?”

Fizzlewick hurried closer, squinting. “Oh my God. Those are healing cell s—on steroids.”

“On steroids?” Hunter echoed, rais ing an eyebrow.

Fizzlewick shrugged. “What? We have the internet now. I’ve been watching modern movies in my spare time.”

Jonathan groaned, his face flushing red before the color evened out. He stood straighter, his movements less sluggish. “I feel…incredible. Like, I need to go punch something. Or—” He paused, grinning. “I need a female.”

“Hold on,” Vero snapped, grabbing Jonathan’s arm. “How do you feel? Any nausea? Pain?”

“Nope.” Jonathan stretched his arms, his energy palpable. “I feel like my healing cells are in overdrive. They’re fixi ng everything.”

Hunter clapped Vero on the shoulder, his expression triumphant. “I think we’ve got it.”

Vero examined Jonathan closely, noting the male’s steady breathing and clear eyes. Relief flooded through him, loosening the knots in his shoulders. “Loo ks like we do.”

Fizzlewick, already at his equipment, called out, “Let’s mass-produce thi s serum. Fast.”

Vero nodded, feeling hope. Finally. “For the record, Hunter—you’re still my be st friend too.”