For a heartbeat—
no one moved.
Not the guards, frozen mid-step.
Not the nurses, cowering behind overturned carts.
Not even the Prototype, its jagged frame locked in place like someone had slammed an invisible wall in front of it.
Because the only thing that mattered—
the only thing that filled the room—
was Horace's voice.
Low.
Strained.
Broken.
But thunderous with instinct.
"DON'T.
TOUCH.
MY.
MATE."
My breath stopped.
Completely.
Mate.
The word hit me like a pulse exploding under my ribs.
The bond inside me flared—
not painfully this time—
but in perfect synchronicity to him.
Horace—
bleeding
shaking
half-conscious—
was awake.
And he was standing.
Barely.
Clinging to the bed rail with white knuckles.
Sweat shining across his brow.
Lips pale.
Eyes unfocused but burning with something primal and fierce.
Lucian stared up from the floor, hand still clutched to his throat, eyes wide with disbelief.
"No…
No, no, no—this shouldn't be possible—"
Chandler swore under his breath.
"Holy—
no freaking way—"
Rowan, trembling violently against his chest, cracked out a thin, choked whisper:
"H-Horace…?"
Horace took a step forward—
almost collapsing.
I lunged to catch him.
"Horace—! Stop—your body—your heart—"
He grabbed my wrist, squeezing hard for support.
His eyes—
half-lidded
bloodshot
glazed with pain—
locked onto mine with laser focus.
"Elleanore…"
His voice cracked.
"Step… back…"
"But you can't stand—"
He pulled me closer—just enough so I could hear the drop in his voice, hear the edge of panic under the instinct:
"Please.
If you're in front of me—
I won't be able to fight it."
My breath hitched.
He was trying to protect me.
Even in this state.
Even when his legs could barely hold him.
I took a trembling step behind him.
His shoulders eased—just slightly—when he felt me move out of the Prototype's direct line of sight.
The Prototype twitched.
Its voice buzzed with static:
"…Unexpected."
Horace's hand trembled against the bed rail.
His breath shook.
His pulse was wildly unstable.
But he didn't back down.
He straightened his spine—
wincing in pain—
and glared at the Prototype with a ferocity I had never seen from him.
Lucian rasped:
"Horace…
You shouldn't even be conscious—how are you doing this—?!"
Horace didn't look away from the Prototype.
He spoke through clenched teeth:
"Because she needs me."
My throat tightened.
Chandler muttered to Rowan:
"Okay—that's… actually kind of badass."
Rowan sobbed softly into Chandler's shoulder, still shaking uncontrollably.
"Chandler—please—please don't let it hurt anyone—"
"I won't. Just stay with me."
Chandler pressed a shaky kiss to Rowan's temple.
"I'm right here."
The Prototype shifted.
A small crackle sparked in its chest.
It was resetting its calculations.
Reassessing him.
Lucian swallowed hard.
"Elleanore… listen to me carefully."
I tore my eyes from Horace for only a heartbeat.
"Yes?"
Lucian whispered hoarsely:
"Horace isn't just any Alpha."
I froze.
"What?"
Lucian's voice trembled.
"He's not even a regular high-grade. Or a noble strain."
A beat.
"He is an Alpha Prime."
My breath dropped out of my lungs.
"What—?"
Chandler stiffened.
Rowan whimpered.
The Prototype's lens flickered violently.
Lucian continued—voice cracking:
"The highest biological category.
A dormant genetic line.
Extinct for generations.
But it responds—only—
to one thing."
I barely breathed.
"…What thing?"
Lucian stared at me.
"You."
The bond pulsed in my chest.
Hard.
I whispered:
"Why didn't anyone—"
"Because no one knew," Lucian said.
"The Prime gene is dormant unless triggered by catastrophic instinct conflict."
He gestured weakly at the Prototype.
"And THIS is catastrophic."
The Prototype stepped forward—slow, heavy.
Horace stood his ground.
Barely.
His chest heaved.
His voice shook.
"Don't… touch… her…"
The Prototype paused.
Like it was reading him.
Processing him.
"…Unregistered Prime signature detected."
Lucian whispered:
"It's identifying him."
"…Signature incomplete.
Stabilizer strain… compatible."
My stomach twisted.
Lucian cursed.
"Oh god—it recognizes him—
Horace is the stabilizer it was built to counteract—!"
I grabbed Lucian.
"WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!"
"It means—" Lucian rasped—
The Prototype turned fully toward Horace.
"—he is the only one who can stand against it."
THE FIRST STRIKE
Without warning—
the Prototype lunged.
Straight at Horace.
I screamed.
Rowan screamed.
Chandler cursed and shoved Rowan behind him.
Horace tried to dodge—
but his injuries were too severe.
His knees buckled.
He was going to fall.
He was going to die.
He was too weak—too injured—too human—
But something ignited inside him.
A surge—
hot
bright
instinct-driven.
His scent erupted.
Not soft.
Not warm.
Overwhelming.
Powerful.
Like the air was being pulled toward him.
The Prototype recoiled—
its frame glitching.
Its voice crackled:
"…Prime… alpha… detected…"
Horace roared—
a sound torn from instinct, not strength.
He used every ounce of his body to shove the Prototype back.
Metal screeched.
Sparks burst.
Horace stumbled, gasping—
but the Prototype had been forced to retreat a full step.
Lucian stared in awe.
"Oh my god—
he's ACTUALLY activating—!"
Chandler murmured:
"Dude—holy—"
Rowan sobbed harder.
"Chandler—please—he can't fight—it'll kill him—it'll—"
"I know—I know—don't look—please, Rowan—focus on me—stay with me—"
Horace's legs nearly gave out.
I moved forward—
"Elleanore—stay BACK—!!" Horace shouted, voice cracking into a cough.
He staggered but remained upright.
Barely.
He reached out blindly behind him—
and found my hand.
My heart lurched.
His fingers squeezed mine.
Weak.
But steady.
He didn't look back at me.
He didn't need to.
"Don't… leave… my side."
His voice broke.
"But don't… come in front of me."
His scent flared—
not wild
not destructive—
shielding.
Sheltering.
Mine.
The Prototype's voice glitched with distortion.
"…He cannot defeat me."
Lucian stepped forward.
"No.
But together—
they can."
My breath hitched.
"Lucian—what are you saying—?!"
Lucian looked at both of us—
Horace barely standing
me trembling behind him
our bond pulsing visibly between us—
and whispered:
"Elleanore…
you're not meant to fight alone."
Horace squeezed my hand again.
"Elleanore—
I'm here."
The Prototype raised its arm.
Readying another strike.
Rowan cried out in terror.
Chandler held him tight, whispering desperately to calm him.
Lucian prepared a broken metal tool as a last resort.
I stepped forward—
pressing my back to Horace's.
His breath hitched—
but he didn't stop me.
My voice shook.
"Together."
Horace's pulse steadied.
"Together."
The Prototype lunged.
And we braced.
The Bonded Strike Back
The Prototype lunged.
Metal flashed.
Sharp arms swung.
The floor trembled beneath its weight.
Horace braced—
but he wasn't fast enough.
He had power—
pure instinctual force—
but his body was wrecked.
He stumbled forward.
I moved without thinking.
Not ahead of him—
never ahead—
but close enough to steady him with my grip on his arm.
Horace gritted his teeth, chest heaving.
"Elleanore—stay—behind—me—"
"I'm right here," I whispered.
"Just don't fall."
He didn't.
Because I didn't let him.
The Prototype's arm crashed down toward us—
and Lucian dove between, slamming a metal shield he'd scavenged at the last second.
CRASH—!!
The shield bent inward like thin foil.
Lucian was thrown across the room.
"LUCIAN—!!" I screamed.
Chandler shouted:
"SHIT—LUCIAN—!!"
Rowan burst into tears again, trembling wildly.
"Chandler—Chandler—he's hurt—he's hurt—!!"
Chandler cupped Rowan's cheeks gently.
"Hey—look at me—
Baby, hey—focus—focus on my voice—
he's still breathing—Lucian's tough—
you're safe—
you're with me—"
"I'm scared…" Rowan sobbed.
"I know," Chandler whispered, voice cracking.
"I know. I've got you. Don't look at it."
But the Prototype had already recovered.
Its lens flickered rapidly.
"…Prime Alpha.
Prime Scent.
Bonded output detected."
Lucian tried to push himself upright, gripping his ribs.
"Elleanore—Horace—
your scents are syncing—
keep it stable—
DON'T LET IT SPIKE—"
Horace's grip tightened painfully around my fingers, grounding himself and me both.
His voice was rough, breathless:
"You okay…?"
"I should be asking you that," I said, my voice shaking.
His lips quirked faintly despite everything.
"Don't… worry about me."
But the Prototype moved again.
This time it aimed for me.
Horace reacted instantly.
He threw himself in front of me, pushing me back behind his shoulder with a growl so raw it made the lights flicker.
"NO—!!"
And his scent burst outward.
Not destructive.
Not overwhelming.
Commanding.
The Prototype froze mid-swing.
Lucian's eyes widened.
"Elleanore—Horace—your bond is overriding its targeting—!!"
"What?!" I gasped.
Lucian coughed.
"You two—together—
your scents form a combined Prime output.
It's interfering with the Prototype's sensory coding.
YOU'RE CONFUSING IT—!!"
Horace leaned heavily against me, panting from the strain.
"Good…
we need to push… harder…"
I tightened my grip around him, steadying him.
"You can barely stand—"
He shook his head.
"Elleanore…
if I let go… you'll die."
My heart clenched.
But before I could respond—
Rowan suddenly shrieked.
His voice cracked like something tearing inside him.
"STOP—!! STOP—PLEASE STOP—!!!"
Chandler turned sharply.
"Rowan—hey—hey—look at me—look at me—sweetheart, breathing—remember how we practiced—"
But Rowan pushed against his chest, hyperventilating.
"I can't—I can't—I can't—
not the Prototype—
not again—
not the lab—
not the screams—
not—"
Chandler pressed his forehead to Rowan's, grabbing his wrists gently.
"STOP—
Rowan—look at me—
breathe with me—
breathe—
you're safe—
I'm here—
I won't let anything touch you—
I swear—
I swear—"
Rowan's eyes squeezed shut as he trembled.
"I-I'm trying—
Chandler—
I'm trying—
but it hurts—!"
"It's okay—
then hurt WITH me—
but don't leave—don't shut down—
stay with me—PLEASE—"
Rowan sobbed in a choked gasp.
"I'm here—
I'm here—I'm here—"
Chandler hugged him tightly, shielding his entire body with his own.
His voice cracked.
"That's it—
that's it—
I've got you—
you're okay—"
My vision blurred.
Their bond—
their desperation—
their terror—
felt like a mirror to mine.
The Prototype turned its cracked lens toward Rowan—
"…Subject 37… recognized."
Rowan screamed so loudly the lights flickered.
Chandler snarled:
"DON'T LOOK AT HIM—YOU HEAP OF SCRAP METAL—!!"
Lucian paled.
"Okay—okay—this is bad—
We're out of time—
We need to push it back NOW—!!"
Horace tried to move—
and collapsed to one knee.
"No—!!" I grabbed him, supporting his weight.
His breath shuddered.
"Elleanore…
don't let go—"
"I'm not."
My scent pulsed—
meeting his
matching his
fusing with his.
Lucian whispered:
"It's happening—
You two…
are syncing completely—
a bi-directional Prime resonance—"
I didn't know what that meant.
But I felt it.
Like our instincts were interlocking gears that had always been meant to turn together.
The Prototype glitched.
Static flickered.
"…Bonded pair… interference… recalibrating…"
Lucian forced himself to stand, blood on his lip.
"Elleanore.
Horace.
Listen to me."
We both turned.
"This is your only window.
Your combined scent output is destabilizing its circuitry.
If you want to drive it back or disable it—
YOU.
HAVE.
TO.
PUSH.
TOGETHER."
Horace tightened his grip on my hand.
"Elleanore," he whispered.
"Follow me.
Match me.
Don't think—
just FEEL."
My pulse matched his.
My instincts matched his.
"I'm with you," I said.
The Prototype lunged.
Horace moved.
I moved with him.
Together.
Our scents crashed outward—
a dual command
a dual rejection
a dual claim over each other—
and the Prototype staggered, glitching violently.
"…Prime… overload… processing… failure…"
Horace's knees buckled.
I caught him.
But we didn't stop.
We pushed harder.
"Horace—don't fall—stay with me—"
"Never…
leaving you…"
Our scents surged—
not spikes
not collapse—
alignment.
Perfect.
The air snapped like a shockwave.
The Prototype screeched—
the first sound of pain it ever made.
"—ERR—
ERR—
—PRIME—BOND—BREACH—"
Lucian shouted:
"YES—YES—YOU'RE DOING IT—KEEP GOING—!!"
Rowan, still shaking in Chandler's arms, looked up weakly through tears.
"Elleanore…
Horace…"
Chandler whispered:
"They've got this, sweetheart. They do."
The Prototype staggered backward.
Metal cracked.
Sparks erupted.
Its lens flickered violently—
then glowed a deep, unnatural red.
Everyone froze.
Even Lucian.
"…No," Lucian whispered.
"No no NO—this is the failsafe—"
"What?" I gasped.
Lucian shouted, voice cracking:
"IT'S GOING TO ADAPT—!!"
The Prototype straightened.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Its voice glitched deeper.
Lower.
"…Prime bond…
recognized."
Horace's jaw clenched.
"What… does that mean…?"
Lucian's voice broke.
"It means it knows how to kill you now."
The Prototype turned its lens directly at me—
and spoke the words that made my blood run cold:
"…Elliot…
is still calling you."
Horace jerked forward.
"DON'T—
SAY HIS NAME—!!"
The Prototype spread its arms—
joints clicking back into place in new angles.
"…Phase Two:
Elimination."
Before I could scream—
it lunged.
Directly at ME.
Horace shoved me aside—
and took the hit.
Straight to his chest.