The Academy night shift was never loud—
but tonight, the halls outside the medbay felt wrongly quiet.
Sterile.
Heavy.
Like the calm before an execution.
The medbay doors hissed shut again after Aris left, sealing us inside the ruin we'd made.
None of us spoke for a long moment.
Horace's ragged breathing filled the silence.
Rowan's soft, exhausted sniffles trembled in the background.
Lucian wiped sweat and dried blood from his forehead with the back of his sleeve.
Chandler sat on the floor with Rowan still curled into him, one hand rubbing circles on Rowan's back.
I stood beside Horace's bed, fingers shaking as I hovered over his cheek—wanting to touch him again, but terrified of triggering another collapse.
Lucian finally broke the silence.
"We don't have long."
My stomach tightened.
"How long?"
Lucian checked the cracked medbay clock.
"Twenty minutes. Thirty at most. When the transport team arrives, there's no stalling them."
Chandler looked up sharply.
"You're talking like that's a good thing."
"It's not," Lucian said bluntly.
"But I'd prefer we prepare instead of getting dragged out of here like criminals."
He turned to me.
And something in his face—usually tight, focused, always calculating—finally cracked.
"Elleanore," he said quietly,
"You have to understand what Prime containment is."
The words punched the air out of my lungs.
"What… what do they do in containment?"
Lucian hesitated.
And that alone terrified me.
He sat heavily on the nearest stool.
Then spoke softly.
Like he was talking to someone he didn't want to hurt.
"They don't torture Primes," he began.
"They're not stupid. They know pain spikes our scent levels. They know forcing you into panic could level a building."
"But…?" I whispered.
Lucian met my eyes.
"But they isolate you."
My throat tightened.
"For how long?"
"Until they understand your resonance pattern. That can take days… weeks… sometimes months."
My breath hitched.
"And I'll be alone for all of that?"
He didn't lie.
"Yes."
Rowan let out a soft, terrified sound.
Chandler immediately tightened his hold around him.
"No," Chandler muttered. "No way. They can't do that."
"They can," Lucian said tiredly.
"And they will."
My hand curled into the sheets of Horace's bed.
"But I didn't do anything wrong."
"You awakened without an escort," Lucian said gently.
"It's enough."
Horace stirred.
Lucian and I froze.
His eyelashes fluttered.
His fingers twitched weakly against the blanket.
He whispered—voice thin, cracked—
"Elle…?"
The sound of my name on his lips hit me harder than anything.
I leaned over him immediately.
"I'm here," I whispered.
"I'm right here."
His hand lifted halfway—then dropped.
I caught it before it fell.
His eyes opened—barely.
A sliver of blue, unfocused, confused.
"Elleanore… don't… go…"
My chest broke open.
"I'm not going anywhere," I whispered, even though it was a lie.
"I promise."
Lucian swallowed hard.
"Elleanore—don't make promises you don't know if you can keep."
Horace blinked slowly, struggling to breathe.
"What… happened…?"
I brushed a tear off his cheek with my thumb.
"You protected me," I said softly.
"And I protected you."
"You… won…?"
His voice faded in and out like a broken radio.
"The Prototype is gone."
Horace's jaw clenched weakly.
"Good…"
Lucian cleared his throat.
"Horace. Listen to me. You need to stay calm."
"Why…?" Horace slurred. "What… what's wrong…?"
Lucian hesitated.
Then said it straight:
"They're taking Elleanore into Prime containment."
Horace's eyes opened wider.
Just barely—
but enough.
His breathing quickened.
Too fast.
"W–what?" he rasped.
"No… no—she can't—"
"Horace—stop—your heart—!" Lucian grabbed a stabilizer patch.
Horace pushed weakly against my hand.
"Elleanore—don't go—"
Everything inside me burned.
"Horace—listen—listen to me. I'll come back. I swear—"
"You can't—you can't promise—"
His voice broke.
Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.
"Don't let… them… have you…"
I squeezed his hand harder.
"I'm not theirs," I whispered fiercely.
"I'm yours."
His breath trembled.
His lips parted—
a tiny, broken sound leaving them.
Lucian looked away.
Chandler pressed a kiss to Rowan's hair.
Rowan sniffled, wiping his eyes with trembling fingers.
Horace's eyes fluttered again.
"No…" he whispered.
"No—Elle—please—don't—go alone…"
"I won't," I whispered.
"Not in my head. Not in my heart."
Horace forced his fingers to curl around mine.
Barely.
"Promise…"
His voice splintered.
"Promise you'll… come back…"
My throat tightened so hard I thought I would choke.
"I promise."
Lucian touched my shoulder.
"Elleanore. You don't have to—"
"I'm making it," I whispered.
"For him."
Horace's breathing steadied a little.
His eyes drifted closed again.
He whispered one last thing—barely sound at all.
"My mate…"
The words left him and sent a shock through the room.
Lucian froze.
Chandler looked up sharply.
Rowan stopped crying for a moment, eyes widening.
My heart stuttered.
He said it like he wasn't used to the word—
like it scared him—
like it meant something he didn't understand but needed.
I brushed his cheek softly.
"Rest," I whispered.
"You did enough. I've got it now."
Horace's grip loosened.
He drifted into unconsciousness again.
THE CRACK IN ME
When he was asleep—
when his breathing steadied into that fragile rhythm—
something inside me cracked open.
Not like the awakening.
Not like the transformation.
Something softer.
Something terrifying.
A realization I had no time to analyze:
If they took me far from him—
if he woke alone, confused, weak, panicked—
he might not survive another spike.
Lucian saw the panic in my eyes.
"Elleanore—breathe," he said softly.
"I know it feels wrong. I know it feels cruel. But containment is temporary. You just need to hold it together long enough for the Council to assess you."
"How long?" I whispered.
Lucian didn't soften it.
"As long as they want."
My hands shook.
Rowan's voice drifted softly from the floor.
"Please don't leave…"
I turned toward him.
He was clutching Chandler like a frightened child, eyes still puffy from crying.
His voice trembled.
"You're the only reason I—I didn't faint. If you go—Chandler and I—what if—what if something else comes—what if someone else—"
Chandler pulled him closer.
"We'll be okay," Chandler murmured, but his voice cracked slightly.
"Will you?" I whispered.
Chandler stiffened.
Rowan whispered into his chest:
"We… won't be fine."
Chandler hugged him tighter.
Lucian let out a long breath.
"This is what it means to awaken," he said quietly.
"You didn't ask for it. You didn't want it. But everything changes now."
I looked at Horace.
His hand.
His stillness.
His fragile breaths.
Then at Rowan, crying softly.
At Chandler, desperately trying to hold himself together for both of them.
At Lucian, bloodied and exhausted and terrified of losing all of us.
And for the first time—
I felt afraid.
Truly afraid.
Not of death.
Not of the Prototype.
But of being taken away from them.
Of leaving them behind.
And of what the Academy planned to do with me once I had no witnesses left.
Lucian moved closer.
"Elleanore," he said quietly,
"the transport team is coming. But you're not powerless. Not anymore."
I swallowed.
"What do we do?"
Lucian leaned in.
"I'll tell you the only thing the Council doesn't expect from a Prime."
My breath caught.
"What's that?"
Lucian's voice barely reached a whisper.
"Resistance."
The Last Line Before They Take Her
I felt them before I heard them.
A shift in the hallway air pressure.
Steps—steady, armored, synchronized.
A scent—sterile, metallic, chemical.
Not students.
Not nurses.
Containment operatives.
Lucian stiffened, blood draining from his face.
"They're here."
Chandler tightened his hold on Rowan, who immediately clung harder, fingers digging into his shirt.
Rowan's voice shook.
"No—no—Elleanore—please—don't—don't let them take you—"
Chandler whispered into his hair:
"I know, sweetheart. I know. But she won't be hurt. We won't let that happen."
Rowan's breath hitched.
He wasn't convinced.
Neither was I.
The medbay doors hissed open.
Four operatives stepped inside.
Black suits.
Silver containment gloves.
No faces visible beneath mirrored helmets.
Behind them—
stepping with the authority of someone who had already decided our future—
Councilwoman Aris.
Her gaze swept the room like she was counting casualties.
The shattered equipment.
The melted wall.
The Prototype's corpse still sparking weakly.
Lucian's bloodied shirt.
Rowan shaking in Chandler's arms.
Horace unconscious.
And finally—
me.
Her voice held no warmth.
"Elleanore Fonze. Prime subject. You will come with us."
I didn't move.
Lucian stepped slightly in front of me—
a subtle, protective shift.
Aris's eyes flicked to him.
"Assistant Lucian Veras. Step aside."
He didn't.
"Councilwoman, her scent hasn't stabilized yet. Moving her could—"
"She will stabilize in containment," Aris said coolly.
"That is the point."
Chandler stood slowly, lifting Rowan with him.
Rowan hid his face against Chandler's collarbone, trembling.
Chandler's voice was low.
"You're not dragging her out of here like an animal."
"Chandler," I whispered,
"don't—please don't put yourself in danger—"
Rowan clutched him tighter.
Aris barely acknowledged their existence.
"The Prime subject must be transported alone."
"No," Chandler said.
Aris blinked once.
Then signaled to the operatives.
Two of them stepped forward.
Lucian snapped.
"STOP—!!"
He threw out an arm, blocking their path.
Aris gave him a long, cold stare.
"Assistant Veras. You are two seconds from obstructing a Council directive."
Lucian's jaw clenched hard.
"Elleanore is still unstable."
"Exactly why she must be removed from the general population."
I spoke before Lucian could.
"I'll go."
The room froze.
Rowan made a small, broken sound in Chandler's arms.
Chandler's breathing hitched.
Lucian turned sharply toward me.
"Elleanore—"
I lifted a hand.
"Lucian. I said I'll go."
Aris nodded once.
"Finally."
She gestured to the operatives.
"Begin extraction."
They moved toward me.
And that—
was when Horace woke up.
HORACE PANICS
A small, sharp gasp left him—
barely more than a breath,
but it sounded like a scream in the silence.
His fingers twitched.
His eyes shot open.
"Elle—?"
I turned immediately.
"Horace—hey—hey—easy, easy—"
He looked around wildly—
eyes confused
pupils blown
instinct spiking.
"Elleanore—
what—where—who are—"
His gaze landed on the operatives.
On their suits.
Their mirrored masks.
Their gloves.
His breath broke.
"No—
NO—
don't—don't touch her—don't—"
Lucian tried to hold him down gently.
"Horace—listen—your heart—stop moving—!"
Horace grabbed Lucian's wrist, weak but desperate.
"No—no—NO—she's not going—she's NOT—"
His body shook.
His breathing spiraled.
His pulse monitor screamed.
Chandler cursed under his breath.
"Rowan—cover your ears—don't look—"
Rowan buried his face deeper in Chandler's chest, trembling.
I grabbed Horace's hand, leaning close.
"Horace—look at me.
Just me."
His breath hitched.
"Elleanore—don't let them—
don't let them take you—
don't leave—don't—"
His voice broke entirely.
My chest cracked open.
"I'm not leaving," I whispered.
"I swear. But I have to go for a little while."
His grip tightened—weak, shaking, terrified.
"No…
no, no, no—"
Aris stepped closer.
"We will sedate him if he continues resisting."
My head snapped toward her.
"Touch him and I swear—"
Aris raised one brow.
"You are in no position to threaten."
Horace's breathing grew more desperate.
His eyes burned into mine.
"Elle—
I can't—
not without you—
I can't—please—please don't—"
My heart shattered.
I pressed my forehead to his.
"I will come back."
He shook his head.
"Don't—go—alone—"
"I have to."
My voice cracked.
"But I will come back. I swear on every part of me."
Horace let out a soft, broken sound.
A sound that nearly put me on the floor.
Aris cleared her throat.
"This must happen now."
Lucian stood abruptly.
"No."
Aris's eyes sharpened.
"No?"
Lucian stepped between me and the operatives.
"Elleanore is not being taken without Alpha stabilization present."
Aris frowned.
"What?"
Lucian pointed at Horace—weak, barely conscious Horace.
"He is an Alpha Prime stabilizer. He stays conscious or she goes into collapse."
"That is unverified," Aris said coldly.
"It's the reason she survived ascension," Lucian snapped back.
"She needs a stabilizer."
Aris's expression shifted—
slightly.
Annoyance.
Calculation.
Then—
"Fine," she said.
"He can remain here. Stabilized. Sedated."
Horace panicked.
"No—NO—don't sedate me—don't—!"
His heart monitor spiked dangerously.
Lucian quickly pressed a cool pack to his chest.
"Horace—stop—stop—please—"
I held his hand tight.
"Horace. Listen. Listen to me.
I need you awake.
I need you alive.
So you can't fight this. You'll hurt yourself."
His breathing faltered.
"It's not fair…" he whispered.
"It's not fair that I can't go with you—"
"I know."
My voice broke.
"I know. But you staying alive matters more to me than anything."
He stared at me.
Eyes full of pain.
Fear.
Love.
Then he squeezed my hand weakly.
"Don't let them hurt you."
"I won't."
ROWAN BREAKS
One of the operatives stepped forward again.
Rowan flinched violently.
His breath hitched.
"No—no—Chandler—don't let them—don't let them near her—!"
Chandler hugged him tighter.
"They won't. I promise. I promise, baby."
Rowan shook his head, crying.
"Chandler—she protected us—she saved you—she saved Horace—she saved ALL of us—why are they taking her—why—why—?!"
Chandler looked up at me.
His jaw clenched.
"Because she's strong," he said softly.
"And strong people scare them."
Rowan pressed his forehead into Chandler's chest and sobbed quietly.
My throat tightened.
THE FIRST REAL ACT OF TREASON
Aris stepped toward me.
"Elleanore. Hands forward."
Lucian grabbed my wrist.
"Elleanore—wait."
Aris didn't like that.
"Assistant Veras," she snapped.
"Step away from the Prime."
Lucian ignored her.
He leaned close to me—
so close his whisper didn't reach anyone else.
"Elleanore," he murmured,
"the gloves they put on you will numb your scent. You won't be able to defend yourself or communicate instinctively. You'll be isolated completely."
My blood ran cold.
He slipped something into my palm—small, metallic, cold.
A capsule.
"Hide this," he whispered.
"It's a scent key. It will restore your resonance for five seconds."
"Five—?"
"Five seconds," Lucian whispered urgently.
"One moment. One choice. That's all you'll get."
I stared at him.
"Lucian… this is treason."
He looked at me with a small, grim smile.
"Good."
Before I could say thank you—
he stepped back, expression returning to blank neutrality.
Aris raised her chin.
"Elleanore Fonze.
Submit to containment restraints."
I took one step forward.
Lucian's voice trembled when he said:
"We'll come for you."
Chandler nodded, jaw tight.
Rowan, still trembling in Chandler's arms, whispered:
"Please… don't forget us…"
I met their eyes—
my people,
my family,
my heart—
and said softly:
"I won't."
Then I lifted my hands.
The restraints glowed.