Chapter 5 · Blood Trial

"Get your hands off me!"

I didn't just scream it; I threw my entire weight backward, trying to slam Kael into the reinforced glass of the med-bay. He didn't budge. It was like hitting a concrete wall wrapped in a three-thousand-dollar suit.

His grip on my wrist tightened, fingers digging into the skin right where the serum had been injected. The coldness of his palm contrasted with the white-hot fire rushing through my veins.

"Stop fighting," Kael said, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "You're leaking genetic markers all over my floor. If you don't stabilize, you're going to liquefy from the inside out. Is that the plan?"

"Why is it linked?" I spat, my voice cracking. I twisted, trying to bring my knee up into his gut, but he stepped into my space, erasing the gap between us. I could smell him—expensive sandalwood and something metallic, like a sterilized blade. "The serum. I can feel it. Why the hell is it reacting to *you*?"

Kael didn't answer. Instead, he shoved me back onto the diagnostic table. The cold metal bit into my thighs. Before I could scramble away, he leaned over me, pinning my shoulders down. He wasn't touching me with lust, but with a terrifying kind of ownership. He was checking the damage, his eyes scanning my face with a clinical intensity that made my skin crawl.

"It's a synchronization lock," he murmured, his face inches from mine. I could see the gold flecks in his irises, the predatory stillness of a man who had never been told 'no' in his entire life. "The protocol requires a catalyst. In this case, my DNA is the anchor. You don't just work for me, Vesper. You're biologically tethered to me. Try to run, and your nervous system will shut down in ten seconds."

I let out a jagged laugh, staring up at him. "So I'm not a contractor. I'm a fucking dog on a leash."

"A very expensive dog," Kael corrected. He released my shoulders but didn't move away. He stayed right there, looming over me, his shadow swallowing me whole. "And dogs that bite their owners usually get put down. Be smart. Clean yourself up."

He stepped back, the sudden absence of his heat leaving me shivering. I sat up, my muscles twitching with a strength that didn't feel like mine. I looked down at my hands. The veins were glowing a faint, iridescent violet beneath the skin.

"I want answers," I said, standing up. My legs felt heavy, like I was walking through deep water. "Who designed this? Who told them to link me to a corporate brat like you?"

Kael turned his back to me, walking toward a holographic display. "The 'who' isn't your concern. Your concern is the blood on your boots and the fact that you're currently the most wanted woman in the Neon Slums. Do you think your old agency is just going to let a gene-mod asset walk away with their proprietary codes?"

"I'm not an asset," I snapped. I marched toward him, the violet glow in my veins pulsing with my anger. "I'm the one who did their dirty work for five years. I earned my freedom."

"Freedom is a fairy tale for people who don't have a kill-switch in their spine," Kael said without looking back. "You have a contract now. My contract. And since you're so fond of 'earning' things, let's start with a trial. Prove you're still the best killer in the city, or I'll find a way to extract the serum and leave you as a husk in a dumpster."

I lunged. I didn't think; I just reacted. My hand shot out, aiming for the throat, my fingers curved like talons. I expected him to dodge. I expected him to be slow.

Kael moved like a blur. He caught my wrist mid-air, his grip like a vice. He didn't just stop me—he twisted, using my own momentum to flip me. In a heartbeat, I was the one pinned against the wall, his forearm pressed firmly against my windpipe. Not enough to choke me out, but enough to remind me exactly who held the power.

"Rule one," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. "Never touch me unless I tell you to. Rule two: I don't do threats. I do results."

I glared at him, my chest heaving. My heart was hammering against my ribs, but not just from the fight. There was a weird, electric tension humming between us, a magnetic pull that felt like it was coming from the serum itself. It was disgusting. It was intoxicating.

"Get. Off," I hissed.

He lingered for a second too long, his eyes dropping to my lips before sliding back up to meet my gaze. Then, he stepped away with a smirk that made me want to kill him and kiss him at the same time.

"There's a cleanup crew in the hall," Kael said, gesturing to the door. "Go. Wash the filth off. Then come back to my office. I have a gift for you."

"A gift?" I spat, rubbing my wrist. "What, a gold-plated collar?"

"Something better," he replied. "Something that might actually give you a reason to stop trying to murder me every five minutes."

I spent the next hour in the showers, scrubbing the grime and dried blood from my skin. The water was steaming, but I couldn't get rid of the feeling of his hands on me. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw those gold flecks in his eyes. I hated him. I hated that he owned the very air in my lungs.

When I finally walked back into his office, I was dressed in a tactical suit that actually fit, my hair damp and clinging to my neck. Kael was sitting behind a desk made of a single slab of obsidian, a small, shimmering silver chip resting on the surface.

"The data you recovered from the hit," Kael said, nodding toward the chip. "My technicians couldn't crack the first layer of encryption. It's locked with a biometric sequence. A very specific one."

I walked forward, my boots clicking on the polished floor. "And let me guess. It only opens for me?"

"Not just you," Kael said, his voice turning cold. "The chip requires two signatures. Yours. And mine. It's a dual-key lock, Vesper. Which means whatever is on this chip was designed to be seen by both of us."

I reached out and picked up the chip. The moment my skin touched the metal, a shock of electricity surged up my arm, and a holographic window snapped open in the air.

It wasn't a file. It wasn't a list of targets. It was a single, encrypted audio log with a timestamp from ten years ago.

I pressed play. A voice filled the room—calm, clinical, and hauntingly familiar. It was the voice of the man who had shaped my DNA, the man I thought had died a decade ago.

"Project Chimera: Phase One," the voice said. "The bond between the two subjects is stable. The heir and the assassin. They are two halves of the same broken whole. To ensure loyalty, I have embedded the override in the core of their shared creator's—"

Kael's hand slammed down on the desk, cutting the audio off. The sudden silence was louder than the scream. He was staring at me, his composure finally cracking, a look of genuine shock—and maybe fear—crossing his face.

"Who is the creator?" I whispered, the chip still humming in my palm.

Kael didn't answer. He just looked at the chip, and then at me, as if seeing me for the first time.

"The voice," I said, my heart stopping. "Kael, that was—"