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The blood tasted like copper and smoke and something alive.
Rena doubled over the clinic sink, gasping. Her hand still ached where the silver had burned through, but the green light—the thing crawling up her shoulder like a parasite—it pulled back. Slow at first. Then fast enough that she could see it retreating down her arm, shrinking into the bite wound on her wrist.
She gripped the porcelain edge and waited for her lungs to remember how to work.
The burn faded. The pressure in her skull lifted. Even the fluorescent lights stopped drilling into her eyes.
She straightened and stared at her reflection. Same face. Same scar above her left eyebrow from when she was twelve and Marcus taught her how to reload under fire. Same eyes—dark brown, human.
But her hand wasn't shaking anymore.
She looked down at the empty vial on the counter. Dark glass. No label. Just residue at the bottom, thick and red-black.
His blood.
She wanted to smash it. Throw it against the wall and watch it shatter. But she didn't. Because in three days, she'd need it again.
"Shit," she whispered.
Her phone buzzed. She ignored it. It buzzed again. Then a third time, rapid-fire.
She grabbed it.
Three texts from Marcus.
*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 over the keyboard. She could tell him. Right now. Say the Alpha came back, that he'd forced her to drink something, that she didn't know what it was.
Marcus would believe her. He always did.
But then he'd ask to see the wound. He'd see the green light was gone. He'd ask how.
And she'd have to lie.
She typed: *I'm fine. Doors locked. Nothing here.*
She hit send before she could second-guess it.
The clinic felt too quiet. The kind of quiet that meant someone was watching. Rena turned off the sink and listened.
Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Coming from the back hallway.
She grabbed the silver knife off the counter—her blood still wet on the blade—and moved toward the sound. Her boots didn't make noise on the tile. Hunter training. You learned to walk quiet or you didn't walk at all.
The hallway was dark. The motion-sensor lights had timed out. She didn't turn them back on.
She could see just fine.
That thought stopped her cold.
She blinked. The hallway stayed clear. Every detail sharp—the scuff marks on the baseboards, the dust on the air vent, the faint outline of a handprint on the door at the end of the hall.
She shouldn't be able to see any of that. Not in the dark. Not without a flashlight.
Her grip tightened on the knife.
The footsteps stopped.
"You drank it faster than I expected."
Cain's voice. Low and rough, like he'd just woken up. He stepped out of the shadows near the supply closet, hands in his pockets, shoulders loose. He looked like he belonged there. Like this was his clinic, his hallway, his plan.
Rena raised the knife. "Get out."
"I will." He didn't move. "Just wanted to make sure you didn't choke."
"I'm fine."
"You are now." He tilted his head, studying her. "How do you feel?"
"Like I want to stab you."
"That's normal." He almost smiled. "The bond makes you want to 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, but he didn't flinch. "The 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 out on the clinic floor. But her hand wouldn't move.
Because she could hear it now.
His heartbeat.
Steady. Calm. A low, rhythmic thud that shouldn't have been audible from six feet away. But it was. She could hear it under his words, under the hum of the ventilation system, under everything.
And it didn't sound like a monster's.
It sounded human.
"Stop it," she said.
"Stop what?"
"Whatever you're doing. The heartbeat thing."
Cain frowned. "I'm not doing anything. You're just 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 before she thought about it. Slammed him against the wall, knife at his throat, her forearm pressed across his collarbone. He didn't resist. Just looked down at her, expression unreadable.
"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, just enough that her blade nicked his skin. A thin line of blood welled up, dark and red. Rena stared at it. Her mouth went dry.
She could smell it.
Smoke and copper and that same living heat she'd tasted in the vial.
Her grip loosened. Just a fraction.
Cain's hand came up, slow and careful, and wrapped around her wrist. Not hard. Just enough to stop the blade from cutting deeper.
"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. I 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 of her wrist. "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 was shaking again, but not from the curse. From something else. Something that felt too much like relief.
"Three days," Cain said. He pushed off the wall and 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 Rena heard it.
Tires. Multiple vehicles. Coming fast.
Cain stopped.
Rena's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen.
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 at her.
"They're early," he said.
Outside, engines cut off. Doors slammed. Boots hit 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, but his eyes were sharp. Calculating. "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 the scent of pine and gasoline. "You're choosing whether you want answers or orders."
Footsteps echoed from the front of the building. Marcus's voice, low and clipped, giving instructions.
Cain held out his hand.
Rena stared at it. At the blood still drying on his throat. At the dark eyes that didn't look away.
Her phone buzzed again.
She had three seconds. Maybe less.
She heard Marcus's boots on the front steps.
She looked at Cain's hand.
And she moved.