"Don't move. Not a muscle," Kael said, his voice like a blade of ice cutting through the haze.
I felt the cold press of a metallic cylinder against my neck. He wasn't holding a gun—this was worse. A needle. A high-pressure injector. One twitch and he’d dump whatever cocktail he had into my carotid artery.
I tried to sneer, but my lip barely moved. My muscles felt like they were being dissolved in acid. The gene-decay was winning, turning my elite assassin's body into a heap of useless meat.
"What... is that?" I rasped. My voice sounded like I'd been eating glass.
"Insurance," Kael replied. He leaned in closer. I could smell expensive sandalwood and something clinical, like a sterile lab. He didn't just stand there; he loomed, his shadow swallowing me whole. "You’re not in a position to negotiate, Vesper. You’re a burned asset. A glitch in the system. In ten minutes, your DNA will literally unravel. You'll be a puddle of genetic sludge on my very expensive floor."
I glared up at him. Even half-dead, I wanted to spit in his face. "Then do it. Kill me. Better than... rotting slowly."
Kael let out a short, humorless huff. He shifted his grip, his thumb pressing the injector harder against my skin. The pressure was intimate, suffocating. "I don't waste resources on mercy. I'm not killing you. I'm buying you."
"I'm not... for sale," I managed to choke out.
"Everything is for sale," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear, contrasting with the freezing metal on my neck. "Especially when the alternative is a screaming death. This serum in the needle? It's a stabilizer. It'll stop the decay. It'll keep you breathing, thinking, and killing. But it comes with a price tag."
I tried to shift my weight, to find some leverage, but my legs were dead. I was pinned under his gaze, a stray dog waiting for a verdict. "What... price?"
"Total obedience," Kael said. He stepped back just an inch, enough to look me in the eye. His eyes were a piercing, unnatural shade of violet—corporate mods. "You become my private hound. You hunt the people I tell you to hunt. You bleed when I say bleed. You don't ask questions, and you definitely don't try to run. Because the moment you step out of my signal range, the stabilizer stops working. You'll start decaying again. Right there on the sidewalk. In front of everyone."
I let out a jagged laugh that turned into a cough. "You're a... psychopath."
"I'm a businessman," he corrected. "And right now, you're a distressed asset. Do we have a deal, or should I just let the clock run out?"
I looked at the ceiling, then back at him. The power imbalance was sickening. He held my life in a small plastic tube, and he knew it. I hated him. I hated the way he looked at me—like I was a tool, a piece of hardware he was considering upgrading.
"Fine," I spat. "Do it."
He didn't smile. He didn't even look pleased. He just pressed the trigger.
*Hiss.*
The injector fired. A surge of freezing liquid slammed into my neck, and for a second, I thought my heart had stopped. Then, the world exploded.
It wasn't a slow recovery. It was a violent reclamation. The serum tore through my veins, stitching together the frayed ends of my DNA with an intensity that made me scream. I arched my back, my fingers clawing at the leather upholstery of the seat. It felt like a thousand white-hot needles were sewing my muscles back together.
"Easy," Kael murmured, though he didn't move to help me. He just watched, his expression curious, as if he were observing a lab rat in a maze. "The first dose is always the hardest. Your body is fighting the graft."
I gasped, my lungs finally expanding. The gray haze vanished. Colors snapped back into focus—the deep obsidian of the car's interior, the sharp line of Kael's tailored suit, the predatory glint in his eyes. I could feel it now. Something new. A humming frequency at the base of my skull.
I lunged.
It was instinct. I didn't think; I just moved. My hand shot out, aiming for his throat, my fingers curled into a strike. But halfway there, a bolt of sheer agony slammed into my spine.
I collapsed back into the seat, a strangled cry escaping my throat. It felt like an invisible leash had been jerked tight, snapping me back into place.
Kael didn't even flinch. He didn't move his head. He just looked down at me with a bored expression. "Did you think I'd give you the serum without a leash?"
I trembled, the sweat soaking through my clothes. "What... did you do?"
"The stabilizer is synced to my biometric signal," he explained, leaning over me again. This time, he placed a hand on the headrest, boxing me in. The proximity was overwhelming. I could see the tiny gold flecks in his violet eyes. "You're now biologically tethered to me. If I want you to stop, you stop. If I want you to hurt, you hurt. You're not an assassin anymore, Vesper. You're a weapon. My weapon."
I glared at him, my chest heaving. "I'll kill you the first chance I get."
"I'm counting on it," he whispered, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. "That's why I bought you. I need someone who wants to kill everything in this city. Starting with my father's board of directors."
He reached out, his gloved finger tracing the line of my jaw. The leather was cool, but the gesture was possessive, marking me. I wanted to bite him. I wanted to rip his hand off. But the serum was still humming in my blood, a sweet, addictive poison that made my body crave his proximity just to stay stable.
"Get up," he commanded. "We're arriving at the safehouse. Try not to bleed on the carpet."
I pushed myself up, my legs shaking but holding. I hated how the serum made me feel—stronger, faster, but utterly owned. I stood beside him, the height difference forcing me to look up. He didn't look at me as he opened the car door, but I could feel his awareness of me, the way he tracked my every breath.
As we stepped out into the rain-slicked alley of the Lower District, my vision suddenly flickered. A red pulse flashed in my peripheral vision, and a sharp, digital ping echoed in my mind.
It wasn't a glitch. It was a signal.
I froze, my hand instinctively going to the back of my neck. The feeling was familiar. It was an encrypted burst, a high-level Agency ping. But it wasn't coming from the Agency. It was coming from inside the serum.
Kael stopped. He turned his head slightly, his gaze narrowing.
"What is it?" he asked.
I didn't answer. The ping happened again, stronger this time. It wasn't just a signal; it was a coordinate. A set of encrypted data unfolding in my mind, revealing a location I knew all too well.
My old mentor's hideout.
"I said, what is it?" Kael's voice was sharper now. He stepped closer, his presence pressing against me, demanding an answer.
I looked at him, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. He hadn't just saved me. He'd turned me into a living antenna for something—or someone—who was still alive.
"I think," I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs, "that I'm not the only thing you've been tracking."
Just then, the red pulse in my vision turned a violent, screaming gold, and a voice—distorted, dying, but unmistakable—echoed directly into my consciousness.