The next morning, the sky over Eryndor Tower looked scrubbed clean—too blue, too calm. The kind of day that pretended nothing had ever gone wrong. Inside, the air said otherwise. People spoke softer, walked faster. The red flash of the previous day's alarm still lived in everyone's nerves.
Adrian had already been at his desk for two hours, sleeves rolled, jacket off, the city spread beneath him like a battlefield map. Division W's core report glowed on his screen: system overload, origin unknown. He'd read the same paragraph eight times and still couldn't see it. His mind kept slipping back to the way the machine had responded—to her.
When Mei Lin arrived, the room shifted again. She moved quieter than usual, but not meek. She looked around, catching the stares, then squared her shoulders. Her eyes met his through the glass wall.
He opened the door before she could knock. "Inside."
She stepped in, arms crossed. "If this is about yesterday, I'm still alive. You're welcome."
"Cute," he said. "Sit."
She didn't. "You're not exactly earning points for manners."
He almost smiled—almost. "We've got a problem."
"Only one?"
He turned the screen so she could see. Blue-white diagrams, pulsing lines of code. "Division W's security grid was accessed remotely at 02:47 a.m. Whoever did it wiped their trail—except for one signature pattern. Same frequency as the energy that reacted to you."
Mei Lin frowned. "So whoever's behind this knows about… whatever that thing was."
"Exactly." He folded his arms, watching her. "You said the energy felt like it was searching. Maybe it found us."
"Us?" she repeated. "That's generous. It could just want you."
He leaned forward. "You felt it too."
Her voice dropped. "I felt something. It's like standing next to a storm and realizing you're part of the thunder."
That hit too close. His pulse stumbled. For a second the air thickened—heat without touch.
He forced himself to break eye contact, clicking the screen dark. "Division W's files show an older prototype, abandoned years ago. Project Lupus."
She raised an eyebrow. "Wolf. Subtle."
"It was supposed to study genetic resilience. Military funding, human enhancement—the usual moral gray zone."
"Let me guess. It went wrong."
He nodded once. "Every test subject dead. Files sealed."
"Except now something's alive."
"Maybe," he said. "Or maybe someone decided to wake it up."
Silence stretched. Outside, the office hummed with small noises—keyboards, phones, the steady pulse of an empire pretending stability.
Mei Lin finally said, "You think I'm connected to this."
"I think you fit a pattern," he admitted. "The energy signature, your reaction to it—"
"My village isn't even on a map," she cut in. "No labs, no secret projects. Just rice fields and bad Wi-Fi."
"Maybe that's why they hid it there."
She blinked, anger and fear crossing her face in the same breath. "You think I was—what? Built in a lab? You think that's why I can heal people?"
"I think," he said quietly, "you deserve to know the truth."
The room felt smaller suddenly, the city outside fading into blur.
"Then help me find it," she said.
He nodded. "We start with Division W's archive. It's off-network. Physical copies only. Deep storage."
"So basically a secret basement of secrets."
"Exactly."
---
They descended twelve floors below ground, where the tower's polish gave way to concrete and hum of generators. The security locks recognized Adrian's print instantly; the final door hissed open to rows of metallic cabinets.
Mei Lin's footsteps echoed. "You really keep your skeletons organized."
He handed her a pair of gloves. "Don't touch anything barehanded. Some of the compounds used here are unstable."
"Comforting."
They split up, scanning file codes. It took her five minutes to find a thin folder marked Project Lupus – Phase 3. She held it up. "This looks ancient."
Adrian joined her, flipping through yellowed pages. Test reports, subject data, blood panels. One name was blacked out again and again.
Then she froze. "This symbol—on the corner."
A small sigil, barely visible: a spiral of light within a wolf's eye. She'd seen it before—carved into a stone near her childhood home.
She touched it. A faint hum pulsed through her glove.
Adrian's voice sharpened. "You felt that?"
"Yes."
He reached out without thinking, fingers brushing hers through the fabric. The pulse surged. Both of them flinched.
The lights flickered overhead.
He whispered, "It's keyed to us."
Her throat tightened. "Why us?"
Before he could answer, the far end of the archive doors slammed open. A gust of cold air swept through, carrying the scent of ozone and something metallic.
A security officer stumbled in. "Sir—someone breached the outer perimeter. They're heading down."
Adrian's tone dropped into command. "Seal this level. No one gets in."
The guard nodded, bolting back out. The door clanged shut, locks spinning.
Mei Lin exhaled. "So much for subtle."
"Stay close," he said.
"I wasn't planning a stroll."
The hum from the folder deepened again, almost rhythmic. She could feel it syncing with her pulse.
Adrian watched her, every instinct screaming that she was at the center of something much larger than either of them. He hated not knowing what it was. He hated that the thought of losing her scared him more than the breach upstairs.
"Adrian," she said softly. "It's responding to emotion. When you get tense, it gets louder."
He gave a humorless laugh. "Then it's about to explode."
"Try breathing?"
He arched an eyebrow. "You giving orders now?"
"Someone has to."
She stepped closer, close enough that he could smell the faint trace of rain on her skin. The hum steadied, softer now.
"There," she whispered. "It listens."
He didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until that moment. The energy between them wasn't just tension anymore—it was communication, a language neither of them spoke but both understood.
Then the overhead lights cut out entirely.
Emergency red filled the space.
A voice came through the intercom—distorted, unfamiliar. "Step away from the file, Mr. Li. The girl comes with us."
Mei Lin stiffened. "They know my name."
Adrian stepped in front of her, stance ready. "You're not taking anyone."
Static crackled. Then the voice laughed—cold, knowing. "You can't fight what's already inside you."
The intercom died.
For a long second they didn't move.
"Inside you," Mei Lin repeated quietly. "What did they mean?"
He looked at her, the truth finally breaking the surface. "Project Lupus wasn't just about enhancement. They used blood from… an earlier generation. My family's company funded it."
Her stomach dropped. "You mean you—"
"I didn't know. I was a child. But whatever they made—they used the Li genetic line to stabilize it."
She stared at him, realization dawning. "That's why the energy reacts to us. It's part of you… and somehow, part of me."
He nodded once, grim. "Which means someone's trying to reunite the pieces."
The hum in the room grew again, matching their breathing. Mei Lin pressed a hand to her chest. "It's pulling harder now. Like it wants out."
"Then we keep it contained."
"How?"
"By not letting it own us," he said.
She met his gaze. "You're assuming we still have a choice."
They held each other's eyes. Red light flickered over them, shadows shifting like restless wolves.
Finally he said, quieter, "If this thing ties us together, we use it before it uses us."
She nodded. "A partnership, then."
"An uneasy one."
Her lips twitched. "Those are the best kind."
The main power surged back to life, white light flooding the archive. The hum faded to a whisper. Somewhere above them, security sirens wailed, then died out again.
Adrian closed the folder, locking it under his arm. "We move this to my private vault. No one else touches it."
"Not even Vivian?" she teased lightly.
He shot her a look. "Especially not Vivian."
As they left the archive, the last flicker of red faded from the lights—but not from their eyes. Each step back toward the elevator felt heavier, charged.
In the mirrored walls of the lift, their reflections stood closer than they should've.
He spoke without turning. "If this link between us gets stronger, I'll need you to tell me."
"Why? So you can run tests?"
"So I can stop you before it burns you alive."
She looked at him, expression unreadable. "And what if it burns you?"
He didn't answer.
When the elevator opened onto the main floor, the world seemed normal again—keyboards clicking, phones ringing, routine reasserting itself.
But the normality was an illusion. Every light, every hum, every heartbeat in that tower felt wired to something ancient and waiting.
Mei Lin glanced back at him as she walked to her desk. "You really think we can control it?"
"I think," he said, eyes fixed on the skyline, "we don't have a choice."
She smiled faintly. "Then let's not waste it."
He almost smiled back. Almost.
Outside, the sky darkened as clouds rolled in—a storm brewing with purpose.
Somewhere in the bowels of Eryndor Tower, the dormant cores flickered awake, sensing the same frequency that now lived in the two of them.
The hum rose, quiet but steady.
And far away, someone watched the readings on a screen, smiling to themselves. "Found you."
---
End of Chapter 7.