"Swallow."
Rena's throat closed around the taste—copper, smoke, something that moved in her mouth like it was still alive. She choked it down and slammed the vial onto the sink, gasping.
The green light under her skin stopped.
Just stopped. Mid-crawl. Halfway up her shoulder, frozen like someone hit pause on a video. Then it pulled back. Slow. Then faster. She watched it shrink down her arm, seeping back into the bite on her wrist.
"What the hell did you give me?"
No answer. She was alone.
The burn in her hand faded. The pressure crushing her skull lifted. Even the fluorescent lights stopped stabbing her eyes. She straightened, gripping the porcelain, and stared at her reflection.
Same face. Same scar above her left eyebrow from when Marcus taught her to reload under fire. Same dark brown eyes.
Human eyes.
But her hand wasn't shaking.
She looked down at the vial. Dark glass. No label. Just thick red-black residue at the bottom.
His blood.
She wanted to smash it. Watch it shatter. But in three days she'd need it again, and she knew it.
"Shit."
Her phone buzzed. Then again. Three times, rapid-fire.
She grabbed it.
*Just left HQ. ETA 40 min.*
*Stay inside. Lock the doors.*
*Did you touch anything he left behind?*
Rena stared at the last message. Her thumb hovered. She could tell Marcus right now. Say the Alpha came back, forced her to drink something, that she didn't know what it was.
Marcus would believe her. He always did.
But then he'd see the wound. See the green light was gone. Ask how.
And she'd have to lie.
She typed: *I'm fine. Doors locked. Nothing here.*
She hit send before she could think.
The clinic went quiet. The wrong kind. The kind that meant someone was watching.
Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. From the back hallway.
Rena grabbed the silver knife off the counter—her blood still wet on the blade—and moved. Her boots didn't make a sound. Hunter training. You walked quiet or you didn't walk at all.
The hallway was dark. Motion sensors timed out. She didn't flip them back on.
She could see just fine.
That thought stopped her cold.
She blinked. The hallway stayed sharp. Every detail clear—scuff marks on the baseboards, dust on the air vent, a faint handprint on the door at the end.
She shouldn't be able to see any of that. Not without a light.
Her grip tightened on the knife.
The footsteps stopped.
"You drank it faster than I expected."
Cain's voice. Low, rough, like he'd just woken up. He stepped out of the shadows near the supply closet, hands in his pockets, shoulders loose. Like he belonged here. Like this was his clinic.
Rena raised the knife. "Get out."
"I will." He didn't move. "Wanted to make sure you didn't choke."
"I'm fine."
"You are now." He tilted his head. "How do you feel?"
"Like I want to stab you."
"That's normal." He almost smiled. "The bond makes you fight it. Especially the first dose."
"Bond?" Rena stepped closer, blade angled at his throat. "You didn't say anything about a bond."
"I said my blood would suppress the curse." Cain's eyes tracked the knife. He didn't flinch. "Bond's just a side effect."
"What kind of side effect?"
"You'll be able to find me. Hear me, if I want you to. Feel when I'm close." He paused. "And I'll know if you're dying."
Rena's stomach twisted. "You can feel me?"
"Not your thoughts. Just your body. Heart rate. Pain. Fear." He met her eyes. "I'll know if Marcus tries to put you down."
She wanted to cut him. Right there. Drive the blade through his ribs and watch him bleed. But her hand froze.
Because she heard it.
His heartbeat.
Steady. Calm. A low rhythmic thud that shouldn't be audible from six feet away. But it was. Under his words, under the hum of the vents, under everything.
And it didn't sound like a monster's.
It sounded human.
"Stop it," she said.
"Stop what?"
"The heartbeat thing."
Cain frowned. "I'm not doing anything. You're hearing better now." He stepped closer. Rena didn't step back. "It'll get worse. Every dose, you'll pick up more. Smell, sight, strength. By the full moon you'll be stronger than most of my pack."
"I don't want to be stronger." Her voice came out rough. "I want to be human."
"Then you should've let the curse kill you."
She moved. Slammed him against the wall, knife at his throat, her forearm across his collarbone. He didn't resist. Just looked down at her.
"You bit me," she said. "You did this."
"Yeah." His voice didn't change. "I did."
"Why?"
"I told you. Someone set you up. I need to know who."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting tonight." He shifted. Her blade nicked his skin. A thin line of blood welled up, dark and red.
Rena stared.
She could smell it.
Smoke and copper and that same living heat from the vial.
Her mouth went dry.
Her grip loosened. Just a fraction.
Cain's hand came up, slow, and wrapped around her wrist. Not hard. Just enough to stop the blade.
"You want to know why?" he said quietly. "Because you were supposed to die that night. Clean kill. No witnesses. But I smelled the ambush before you walked into it. Didn't have time to warn you. So I bit you instead."
Rena's breath caught. "You're lying."
"Maybe." He didn't let go. "But you drank my blood. Which means part of you wants to believe me."
She shoved him back and stepped away, knife still raised. Her hand shook, but not from the curse. From something else. Something that felt too much like relief.
"Three days," Cain said. He pushed off the wall, straightened his jacket. "That's how long the dose lasts. After that, the curse comes back. You'll need me again."
"I'll find another way."
"There isn't one." He turned toward the back exit. "But you're welcome to try."
He was halfway down the hall when she heard it.
Tires. Multiple vehicles. Coming fast.
Cain stopped.
Rena's phone buzzed.
Marcus: *I'm two minutes out. If he's still there, don't engage. I'm bringing a team.*
Her blood went cold.
She looked up. Cain was already at the door, one hand on the crash bar. He glanced back.
"They're early," he said.
Outside, engines cut. Doors slammed. Boots on gravel.
"You need to go," Rena said.
Cain didn't move. "You could come with me."
"What?"
"Right now. Out the back. I've got a car two blocks over." His voice stayed level. His eyes were sharp. "You stay here, Marcus sees the bite's not killing you anymore. He'll want to know why. You'll have to lie. And you're not good at lying to him."
Rena's jaw tightened. "I'm not running."
"Then you're choosing."
"I'm not choosing anything."
"Yeah, you are." Cain pushed the door open. Cool night air rushed in, carrying pine and gasoline. "You're choosing whether you want answers or orders."
Footsteps echoed from the front. Marcus's voice, low and clipped, giving instructions.
Cain held out his hand.
Rena stared at it. At the blood drying on his throat. At the dark eyes that didn't look away.
Her phone buzzed again.
She had three seconds. Maybe less.
Marcus's boots hit the front steps.
She looked at Cain's hand.
And she moved.