Lucian slammed the reinforced door shut.
CLANG—KKKTTT—
the lock ground into place, metal scraping against metal.
The chamber we had sealed ourselves into was enormous—
far larger than any simulation room I'd ever seen.
A dim light flickered overhead, casting long shadows across:
old scent-simulation pods
rusted scent dispensers lining the walls
cracked glass panels
outdated ion stabilizers
faded markings on the floor that once indicated "Alpha lanes," "Omega lanes," and "Neutral Zones"
It felt like stepping into a graveyard of abandoned experiments.
Horace stirred in my arms.
His first sound was a pained, low inhale.
Then—
"Elleanore…?"
My chest tightened.
"I'm here," I whispered, easing him down onto a padded section of the floor.
He blinked hazily, trying to orient himself.
His bandages were soaked.
His breathing shallow.
But his eyes—
when they finally focused on mine—
were bright.
Instinct-bright.
Bond-bright.
Lucian knelt beside him immediately, checking his pulse.
"You shouldn't be conscious yet."
Horace frowned weakly.
"Wasn't… planning to be unconscious."
He tried to sit up—
but a sharp wince cut through his entire body.
I quickly pressed my hand to his shoulder.
"No. Stop. Don't push yourself."
He relaxed under my touch
as if the pressure alone soothed him.
His hand found mine, trembling.
"Elleanore…
you're… different."
I swallowed.
"I know."
His gaze drifted down my neck—
to the faint warmth left by his instinctive mark.
"…Did I do that?" he whispered, surprised.
"Yes."
His breath caught.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"No."
My voice softened.
"It helped me."
Horace exhaled, relief washing through his tired features.
Lucian stood, scanning the room.
"We don't have long. This chamber was built to contain scent surges—it will give us minutes, maybe more."
Rowan whimpered softly, pressed tightly into Chandler's side.
The vent above us rattled.
SCRAAPE.
Rowan flinched violently.
Chandler wrapped both arms around him instantly.
"It's okay. I've got you. I'm right here."
Rowan tried to breathe—
but each inhale was a shaky, ragged gasp.
Lucian looked toward him.
"Rowan. You mentioned something else—the rest of what you saw the night Elliot was taken."
Rowan tensed.
Chandler immediately frowned.
"Don't push him."
Lucian met Rowan's eyes.
"I'm not pushing him. But we need whatever he remembers. Everything. Now."
Rowan inhaled sharply.
His trembling increased.
Chandler lifted Rowan's chin gently with two fingers.
"Hey… sweetheart… look at me."
Rowan's tear-filled eyes lifted.
"You don't have to do this alone," Chandler said softly.
"We're right here. All of us."
Rowan swallowed, pressing closer to him.
I watched Chandler's thumb sweep gently across Rowan's cheek—
comforting him with such quiet certainty it almost hurt.
Rowan exhaled shakily.
"…Okay."
"Only what you can handle," Chandler whispered.
Rowan nodded.
Then he spoke.
ROWAN'S MEMORY
"I remember… screaming," Rowan whispered.
"Elliot's voice echoing down the hallway."
Horace tensed in pain and anger beside me.
Rowan continued, clutching Chandler's shirt.
"I was in a holding room after they took me from evaluation.
I was disoriented. The chemicals messed with my head.
But I remember hearing a struggle."
Chandler stroked his hair gently.
Rowan's voice trembled even harder.
"I crawled to the window. The little slit in the door.
And I saw… shadows."
He swallowed thickly.
"One was Elliot.
He was fighting.
Trying to grab onto the door frame.
Trying not to be dragged."
My vision blurred.
Rowan shook, voice cracking.
"The other shadow was… tall.
Wrong.
Moving like a person—but not really.
And the scent—
that scent—
the one that's hunting us now—"
Horace's jaw clenched.
Lucian's fist closed.
Rowan pressed his forehead to Chandler's shoulder.
"And Elliot…
he wasn't scared for himself.
He was screaming—
'Stay away from her.
Don't touch my sister.'"
My breath broke like glass.
Chandler hugged Rowan tighter, burying his face in Rowan's hair.
"And then," Rowan whispered,
"Elliot looked right at where I was hiding."
Rowan choked.
"He saw me.
He saw I was awake.
And he mouthed—
'run.'"
Tears slipped down Rowan's cheeks in silent streaks.
I covered my mouth, shaking.
Horace reached for my hand weakly, squeezing tight.
"It's not your fault," I whispered to Rowan—
but some part of me said it to Elliot too.
Rowan swallowed, voice barely audible.
"I ran.
And I heard the scientists shouting—
'It reacted to her scent—
It picked the wrong twin—
It wants the girl.'"
Silence cracked through the room.
Chandler froze.
Lucian's breath hitched.
Horace's grip tightened painfully.
I stared at Rowan.
"They said I…
wrong twin?" I whispered.
Rowan nodded.
"They said the prototype reacted too early.
It smelled your bloodline on Elliot.
It thought he was you."
My head spun.
A sick, twisting truth unfurled in my chest.
"So Elliot wasn't taken because of something he did," I whispered.
Rowan shook his head violently.
"No.
It took him because he smelled like you."
Horace closed his eyes in pain.
"Elleanore… I'm so sorry."
I shook my head, tears slipping down my cheek.
"This is all my fault."
Horace's voice sharpened immediately:
"NO."
He squeezed my hand again.
"You did NOTHING wrong."
Rowan cried harder.
Chandler tightened his hold, voice fierce.
"You didn't choose this.
The Crown did.
The prototype did."
Lucian's voice lowered.
"And now it wants to finish what it started."
The vent above us trembled.
THUD.
Rowan flinched.
Horace's eyes snapped open, breath ragged.
"Elleanore—
your scent—"
I stiffened.
I could feel it.
The burn beneath my ribs.
The pulse in my veins.
The pressure building, begging to escape.
Horace pushed himself upright, though his body trembled violently.
"Elleanore—you need to breathe—slow—"
I grabbed his sleeve, breath shaking.
"I can't control it—"
Horace cupped the back of my neck weakly.
"Yes. You can."
His thumb brushed my jaw.
My breathing hitched.
He leaned his forehead against mine, panting lightly.
"Look at me."
I did.
And something inside me steadied.
Just a little.
"Better," Horace whispered, eyes half-lidded.
"You always center me. Let me do the same."
My scent dropped—
only slightly—
but enough for Lucian to exhale in relief.
"You two are ridiculous," Lucian muttered.
"But thank god you work."
Chandler raised a brow.
"Is this what bonding looks like?"
Rowan sniffled and whispered,
"It's… stronger… than bonding…"
Chandler stroked his cheek.
"I don't care what it is. I just want you safe."
Rowan flushed, leaning into him.
THE WALLS START TO BREAK
A sharp metallic sound cut through the room.
CRRK—CRKKK—CRASH—
Dust rained from above.
The Prime Subject was ramming the vent system.
Trying to get in.
Lucian's eyes widened.
"Damn it—
this chamber wasn't meant to withstand modern prototypes. It's too old!"
The ceiling dented inward.
Rowan clung to Chandler.
Horace pulled me instinctively closer.
"Elleanore, get behind me—"
"You can't stand—"
"I'll crawl if I have to," he snarled.
The vent above us buckled.
Lucian grabbed an old scent-suppressant canister.
"Back up—move—MOVE!"
Chandler shielded Rowan.
I held Horace tightly, dragging him toward the back wall.
The vent split open—
KKKSHAAA—!!
Metal shards clattered onto the floor.
A pale hand gripped the edge of the broken vent.
Fingers too long.
Too thin.
Veins glowing faintly beneath sickly skin.
Lucian muttered,
"…We're out of time."
The Prime Subject pulled itself halfway through the ceiling, eyes burning.
"Elleanore."
Horace snarled hoarsely.
"OVER MY DEAD BODY—"
Chandler shouted,
"Lucian—DO SOMETHING—!"
Lucian hurled the canister at the vent.
It exploded in a cloud of suppressants—
but the Prime pushed through it, barely slowed.
Rowan screamed.
Horace tried to stand—
his entire body shaking—
and I grabbed him desperately.
"No—Horace—you'll die—"
His forehead pressed to mine again, weak but fiercely determined.
"I won't let it take you."
My heart broke.
And rebuilt.
And ached.
All in the same breath.
The Prime Subject dropped into the chamber with a heavy, metallic thud.
My instincts screamed.
My scent spiked again.
Horace gasped.
"Elleanore—
don't push—
don't—"
But the thing was here.
And it whispered—
"You are almost ready."
Stabilizer
The Prime Subject hit the floor—
metallic feet clanging against cracked concrete.
Its body straightened unnaturally, head tilting in perfect silence as it looked directly at me.
Not at Lucian.
Not at Chandler or Rowan.
Not even at Horace—
even though he stood between us, trembling and barely upright.
Just me.
Like I was the only thing in the room.
"Elleanore."
My heart slammed into my ribs.
Its voice wasn't loud.
But it carried a weight that pressed down on my lungs—
as if my entire body recognized it
but didn't know how
or why.
Horace took one shaky step forward, shielding me with his broken body.
"You're not taking her," he rasped.
The Prime Subject's eyes flicked toward him.
Its expression didn't change.
But its voice dropped.
"Move."
Horace didn't even flinch.
"No."
The Prime blinked once.
Then its arm snapped forward.
Fast—
Lucian barely had time to shout:
"HORACE—!!"
But I was already moving.
Not thinking.
Not deciding.
Only instinct.
I grabbed the collar of Horace's uniform and yanked him backward—
CRASH—!!
The Prime's strike slammed into the concrete where Horace had been standing.
The ground cracked.
Dust burst out in a choking cloud.
Horace coughed hard, collapsing to his knees.
"Damn it—Elleanore—"
"Don't stand," I snapped, pulling him back.
Chandler shouted from the side:
"ROWAN, GET DOWN—!!"
Because the Prime had moved again.
It didn't walk.
It glided forward, almost smooth, almost fluid.
Rowan cried out and ducked beneath a fallen metal frame.
Chandler shielded him with his own body, teeth gritted.
Lucian grabbed an old shock baton from the wall, its light flickering.
"This thing doesn't stop," he muttered.
"We buy time—nothing else."
"Time for what?!" Chandler yelled, voice tight as he held Rowan close.
Lucian didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
The Prime stepped closer.
Horace pushed himself upright despite his body shaking violently.
His voice was hoarse, broken, but fierce:
"You don't get to touch her.
You don't get near her.
You don't get to speak her name."
The Prime blinked.
"You are not the stabilizer."
Silence poured across the room.
Horace froze.
Chandler stiffened.
Lucian's breath hitched.
My heart dropped into my stomach.
"…What?" I whispered.
The Prime stood still.
Completely still.
Then its head turned slightly.
"Your scent is incomplete.
Your bloodline is insufficient.
You cannot stabilize a Prime evolution."
Rowan gasped softly.
Chandler wrapped his arm closer around him.
Lucian's eyes widened.
"Elleanore…"
He looked at me sharply.
"It's speaking in research terms."
The Prime's gaze locked onto me again.
"Your stabilizer is near."
My blood ran cold.
"Who?" I whispered.
The Prime blinked slowly.
"Me."
Horace inhaled sharply.
"Over my dead—"
The Prime moved.
So fast I couldn't track it.
Lucian tried to intercept—
but the Prime shoved him aside like he weighed nothing.
Chandler grabbed Rowan and ducked behind a metal pillar as shards of metal rained down.
Horace reached for the Prime—
but his knees buckled, and he collapsed with a groan.
"HORACE—!!"
I lunged forward to grab him—
And the Prime's cold fingers wrapped around my wrist.
I froze.
Its grip wasn't painful.
Just… heavy.
Unbreakable.
Final.
Like a lock snapping into place.
Horace roared, trying to pull himself up again.
"GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER—!!"
The Prime tilted its head.
"She is incomplete."
Chandler shouted,
"HEY—ROBOT—WHY DON'T YOU COME SAY THAT AGAIN—!!"
But the Prime didn't move.
It lifted my wrist slowly.
Studied my scent.
Studied me.
Every muscle in my body screamed at me to run, to fight, to kick, to tear myself away.
But something deeper—
something primal—
kept me still.
Lucian scrambled to his feet, panting, bruised.
"Elleanore—DON'T LET IT TOUCH YOUR neck—!!"
At the same moment, Horace shouted:
"DON'T LET IT SCENT-MARK YOU—!!"
My heart lurched.
I jerked back—
But the Prime's fingers tightened.
Not painfully—
but with chilling precision.
"You are unstable," it whispered.
"I don't care—get off me—"
"You will break."
I clenched my jaw.
"I'll break you first—"
The Prime leaned slightly forward, its breath cold against my cheek.
"You do not understand what you are becoming."
My voice trembled.
"Then tell me."
The Prime's voice softened.
Almost gently.
"You are the next me."
My entire body went cold.
"No," I whispered.
"Yes," it said.
"We are halves.
We are evolution.
We complete the sequence."
I tried to yank my hand again—
the Prime held it fast.
Horace forced himself upright, dragging his broken legs across the floor until he was between us.
His face was white with pain.
His breath was shallow.
But his voice—
fierce.
"Don't touch her."
The Prime stared at him.
"You interfere.
Your presence weakens her stability."
Horace didn't move.
"She's not yours."
"She is mine by design."
"You don't get to decide that."
The Prime tilted its head.
"She will choose me."
"NO," Horace snapped—
louder, sharper, more violent than I'd ever heard from him.
"She will NEVER choose you."
The Prime blinked once.
Then it said something horrifyingly calm.
"She already has."
I froze.
Horace froze.
Chandler's jaw dropped.
Lucian's breath caught.
The Prime lifted my wrist just slightly—
"When she used her scent blast,
she matched frequencies with me."
My heart slammed painfully.
"That reaction is instinct," the Prime continued.
"Not choice."
"No—" I whispered.
Horace reached for me.
"Elleanore. Look at me. Look at me—"
But the Prime pulled my wrist again, forcing my attention onto it.
"Your evolution seeks me.
Your instincts seek me.
You are mine to complete."
I felt sick.
"No.
No, I'm not—"
Horace's hand found my arm and pulled me back.
And for a second—
just a second—
my scent shifted.
Toward him.
The Prime froze.
Lucian inhaled sharply.
"Elleanore—your scent is choosing—"
Horace's arms trembled as he held me against him.
His voice was a broken whisper:
"Elleanore…
choose me."
My heart cracked open.
And everything surged.
My scent.
My breath.
My instincts.
My fear.
I whispered—
"…I do."
The Prime's eyes flickered violently.
It stepped back.
Not in fear.
In rejection.
"No."
Horace's grip tightened protectively.
"Yes," I whispered.
"I choose him."
The Prime's voice glitched—
"REJECTED—REJECTED—REJECTED—"
Suddenly—
everything went silent.
Then the Prime snapped.
Literally snapped—
a crack ripping through its skin-like frame.
Its movements turned jerky.
Twitching.
Distorted.
"If you reject me—
you cannot live."
Lucian shouted,
"ELLEANORE—GET DOWN—!!"
The Prime lunged.
At me.
Horace shoved me aside—
and the Prime's hand speared clean through Horace's shoulder
with a sickening, wet sound.
"NO—HORACE—!!"
Rowan screamed.
Chandler roared.
Lucian sprinted forward.
Horace gasped, blood bursting across his uniform.
But he still—
still—
grabbed the Prime's arm—
and snarled:
"Don't… touch… her…"
And then—
something inside me shattered.
Or ignited.
Or both.
My scent detonated behind my ribs—
bigger
hotter
stronger
blindingly intense—
Lucian screamed:
"ELLEANORE—STOP—YOU'LL BREAK—!!"
I didn't hear him.
I didn't hear anything.
I only saw Horace bleeding.
Horace shaking.
Horace STILL standing between me and death.
My scent surged like a storm.
The Prime recoiled—
its body convulsing.
"UNSTABLE—UNSTABLE—CORRUPTED—"
Horace fell into my arms.
I screamed.
And the entire chamber
shook
as if the world was cracking open.