Just a sip

by Strawberrybeans21

Summary:

The taste of the blood was electric, a rush of warmth and vitality that filled your starving body. You kept drinking, the taste overwhelming your tastebuds.

It was so 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬.

Notes:

Hello everyone! I have nothing to say. I just wanted to say thank you. I am a TERRIBLE schedule person so please don’t expect a set time. Sometimes I update every day, sometimes it’ll be 4 months 😅. Please don’t kill meh.

Chapter 1: Prologue.

Notes:

Boo

You awoke to the suffocating darkness of your cell, the air stale and tinged with the metallic scent of blood. The concrete walls loomed around you like the edges of a coffin, cold and unyielding. A single dim light flickered overhead, casting long shadows that seemed to walk on their own. You sat up, your body aching in ways you couldn’t explain, and stared at the heavy steel door that sealed you in.

You couldn’t remember how long you had been there. Days? Weeks? Time had become meaningless. Your last memory before waking in this place was of an argument with your ex—a fight about dinner, of all things. You had stormed out, slamming the door behind you. The city streets had been your refuge, but they had betrayed you. You remembered the van pulling up, the masked figures, the sharp sting of a needle in your neck.

When you first woke up in the cell, you screamed, banged on the door, and begged for answers. No one came. Instead, every so often, the slot at the base of the door would open, and food would slide through—a meager tray of bread and water.

And then the experiments began.

They came in pairs, dressed in white coats, their faces obscured by masks. They strapped you to a gurney and wheeled you into a blindingly bright room filled with humming machines and sharp instruments. Needles pierced your skin, vials of your blood taken and replaced with something cold and burning. Your veins felt like they were filled with fire, your body convulsing as the substance coursed through you.

They spoke in low voices, their words clipped and clinical.

“She’s responding to the serum faster than expected.”

“Heart rate spiking—monitor her vitals closely.”

“This is the perfect host. We’re closer than ever. If this works, we can just get rid of the others.”

Each time they returned you to your cell, you were weaker, your body trembling and drenched in sweat. But something else was happening. You could feel it, a deep, primal shift within you.

The first sign was your appetite—or rather, the lack of it. The bread and water they provided became repulsive. The mere thought of it made you gag. Hunger gnawed at your insides, but it wasn’t a hunger you understood.

The second sign was your senses. The darkness of your cell became less oppressive; you could see the cracks in the walls, the tiny movements of insects skittering across the floor. Your hearing sharpened, the distant hum of machinery now loud and grating.

But the most terrifying change was your reflection—or lack thereof. One day, as you paced the cell, you noticed a small shard of glass near the drain. You picked it up, hoping to glimpse at your face, but the glass showed nothing. Your image was gone, replaced by the blank, empty wall behind.

You dropped the shard, your hands shaking.

When they came for you again, you didn’t fight. You knew it was useless. They strapped you down, injected you with more of the burning liquid, and watched as your body writhed. But this time, something was different. The burning didn’t fade; it intensified, spreading to your limbs, your heart, your mind. You heard their voices, distant and distorted.

“Her vitals are off the charts. What’s happening?”

“She’s stabilizing. Look at the regeneration rate!”

Regeneration?

Your eyes snapped open. Your vision was sharper than ever before, every detail of the room etched into your mind. You could hear the frantic beating of hearts—three of them. The doctors’. You could smell their fear, sharp and intoxicating.

And you were hungry.

Before you knew what you were doing, the straps holding you down snapped like paper. The doctors froze, their eyes wide as you sat up on the gurney, your movements unnaturally fluid.

“Restrain her!” one shouted, reaching for a syringe.

You moved faster than you thought possible. One moment you were on the gurney; the next, you were standing before the doctor, your hand around his throat. He gasped, his eyes bulging, but you barely heard him over the roaring in your ears.

Your teeth ached, your mouth watering. Without thinking, you bit down.

The taste of the blood was electric, a rush of warmth and vitality that filled your starving body. You kept drinking, the taste overwhelming your tastebuds. 

It was so delicious.

The other doctors screamed, running for the door, but it was too late. You were on them in seconds, your strength overwhelming.

When it was over, you stood in the center of the room, blood dripping from your chin, your breath ragged. Your reflection in the polished steel of a cabinet caught your attention. Your soft features were there but your eyes… They were glowing a deep, unnatural crimson.

A monster was staring back at you. 

The alarm blared, jolting you out of your thoughts. Red lights flashed as heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. They were coming for you.

Fear paralyzed you, the steps growing closer and closer. You looked at your reflection once more, your eyes back to their natural color. You looked away just as a syringe was stuck into your neck. Your body began to crumble to the floor as you heard their disoriented voices.

“Holy shit…”

“She killed them all…The experiment…”

“Send her to solitary now! Before she—“

The last part of their sentence was lost as you blacked out.

Chapter 2: Hunger.

Notes:

YAY! I was NOT expecting you all to like it so much!! Thank you so much for the engagement and support! As always, comment your fav part and thank you for reading!!

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

“Half a dog.” 

“I told you not to tell me.”

“Can it, you muppets.” 

Kyle let out a chuckle, listening to the tiredness in Price’s voice. The banter between Ghost and Soap was actively giving his poor captain a migraine. 

He could definitely understand why. They had been on this helicopter ride since dusk and they had still a bit to go before they arrived. Which meant that Ghost and Soap had a million more jokes to tell each other.

Kyle flipped through the mission file on his lap, re-reading what they were heading into.

Mission Brief: Operation Silent Dawn

Objective:

Rescue a young girl, held captivity in a clandestine experimental facility. She has been subjected to inhumane testing, resulting in unknown abilities. Mission is to extract her safely and secure evidence of the facility’s illegal activities.

Mission Overview:

•Target: [REDACTED] (Subject 42)

•Location: High-security experimental facility, coordinates encrypted.

•Intel: The facility is run by an untraceable private organization conducting human experimentation. Security is heavily armed, and surveillance is omnipresent. [REDACTED] has shown signs of destabilizing powers—potential allies, or dangers, during the extraction.

Mission Priorities:

1.Secure [REDACTED]:

•Locate [REDACTED] cell and ensure her safety.

•Assess her mental and physical state upon retrieval.

•Be prepared for potential resistance, as she may not trust rescuers initially.

2.Neutralize Threats:

•Disable the facility’s security systems, including cameras, automated turrets, and containment measures.

•Avoid unnecessary casualties, but neutralize hostile personnel as needed.

3.Collect Evidence:

•Retrieve documentation, digital files, and physical proof of the organization’s illegal experiments.

•Ensure no incriminating data is left behind.

4.Exfiltrate:

•Extract [REDACTED] and the team via the designated evacuation route.

•Deploy countermeasures to prevent pursuit.

Team Composition:

1. Leader: Captain John Price, L.T Simon “Ghost” Riley

 

2. Long range specialist: L.T Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

 

3. Recon Specialist: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

 

4. Exfil: SGT. Nikolai Belinski

Potential Challenges:

•Enhanced Security: Recent intel suggests additional reinforcements have been deployed following a containment breach.

•Unpredictable Powers: [REDACTED] abilities are unknown, unstable, and may pose a threat to both her and the team.

•Limited Intel: The facility’s layout is only partially mapped, requiring on-the-ground adaptation.

Rules of Engagement:

•Maintain stealth for as long as possible to avoid full-scale alerts.

•Use non-lethal methods when feasible, but prioritize team safety.

•Do not engage [REDACTED] directly if she becomes volatile; attempt to de-escalate.

Timeline:

•Phase 1: Initial reconnaissance and infiltration.

•Phase 2: Disable facility security and locate [REDACTED].

•Phase 3: Secure [REDACTED], gather evidence, and initiate extraction.

•Phase 4: Evacuate to safehouse and debrief.

Success Criteria:

•[REDACTED] is safely extracted and stabilized.

•All team members are accounted for with no/minimal casualties.

•Evidence is retrieved to expose the facility’s operations.

Mission Codename: Silent Dawn

Prepare for deployment. The girl’s life—and the truth—depend on us.

 

“Captain, We are about the land.” 

Kyle’s head snapped up at Nik’s words as his captain and team members all made eye contact with each other. Price nodded, a silent acknowledgment of the growing tension of the situation.

“Okay lads. Let’s go get us a win, yeah?”

 

————————————————————

 

 

The cell was silent, save for the steady hum of fluorescent lights overhead. You sat on the cot, knees drawn to your chest, staring at the walls. Your breathing was shallow, trembling—an attempt to suppress the cold that radiated from your core. The aftereffects of the experiment still clung to you like a second skin: the weight of the chemicals they had pumped into your veins, the electric prongs they’d pressed to your temples, and the dissonant voices that now whispered incessantly in your mind.

You didn’t know how long you had been back in your cell. Time was again, a haze in this place, measured only by the shifts in your tormentors’ schedules and the monotony of three disgusting pig blood bags slipped under the door each day.

Your name was stripped from you, though you tried your hardest to keep it in your head. You clung to that shred of identity like a lifeline, but even now it was slipping. During the experiment, the scientists kept calling you “Subject 42.” It sounded clinical, inhuman. Like you were. A monster. 

You heard the door open as you were quickly grabbed and sedated, your limbs going weak as they strapped you to a gurney, the smell of alcohol and garlic burning your nose and throat like never before. You felt the feeling of needles pricking your skin, electrodes pressing to your scalp. “Hold still,” they had said, as if you had a choice. When the machines roared to life, your body convulsed involuntarily, your mind fracturing into a kaleidoscope of pain and colors you couldn’t name. Then there were the voices—soft at first, then loud, screaming, chanting incomprehensible words.

Now, in the quiet of your cell, they were still with you.

One whispered your name, almost tenderly. You whipped your  head toward the sound, but there was nothing there. There never was.

Your hands clenched into fists. The new experiments were doing something to you—changing you. You weren’t sure how much longer you could fight.  Last week, when you had screamed during one of their “tests,” the glass monitor in the observation room had shattered. You hadn’t even realized what you had done until you saw the evilness in the scientists’ eyes.

They’d called you ready, but dangerous.

The locks on your cell door were reinforced now, the walls lined with something you didn’t recognize but could feel—an oppressive hum that dulled your senses and dampened your abilities. You hadn’t even tried to fight it

A meal tray slid under the door, and you startled. You hadn’t heard the footsteps this time. You crawled toward it, the concrete floor cold against your bare skin. The blood was the same as always: disgustingly red and cold.

You picked at the bag, your appetite nonexistent.

But you were so hungry. Hungry for human blood.

“You can’t stay here forever,” a voice whispered again, louder this time.

You froze. “Shut up,” you hissed under your breath.

But the voice didn’t stop.

“They’ll come for you again, you know. They’re not done. They’ll never be done. You’ll die at this rate.”

You slammed your fist against the floor, your vision blurring with sudden tears. “Stop it!”

The lights flickered, and for a moment, the hum in the walls seemed to falter. Your breath hitched. The voice in your head subsided. You had thought it was your imagination until a loud boom shot through your ears, making you cover your ears in pain.

You didn’t know what had caused the sound and apparently nor did your kidnappers. You listened to the alarm that began to blare and the sounds of soldiers rushing down the hall. 

Seconds were feeling like minutes, hours. You shifted into the corner, covering your ears as the gunshots rang out. Your breath was stuttering in your chest, the warm tears falling down your face. If whomever didn’t kill you, your fear definitely would. You heard someone yell, multiple feet rushing down to the hall and directly in front of your cell.

You heard the locks on your cell door disengage. The metallic clinks sent shivers down your spine. You quickly rose from the cot, your body tense, muscles coiled.

The door opened, and two guards began to rush inside, their faces hidden behind black helmets. A third figure followed—a scientist in a pristine white coat.

“Grab her now!,” the scientist yelled. “There’s no time!.”

Your jaw tightened. The fire within you flared, and for the first time, you didn’t try to suppress it. The guards moved toward you, but the air in the room shifted. A low rumble echoed through the cell, and the fluorescent lights flickered again.

The whispers in your mind grew louder, coalescing into a single, commanding voice: “Fight.”

You didn’t hesitate.

The guards lunged, but you grabbed them both by the necks. The air seemed to ripple as you threw them backward, slamming them into the walls, the sickening cracks of their skulls vibrating through your ears. The scientist screamed, scrambling for the door and slamming down a button.

The oppressive hum in the walls grew deafening, but you pushed against it with everything you had. The fire inside you roared to life, consuming your fear, your pain, your doubt.

The walls cracked, and the reinforced locks shattered.

You stepped out of the cell, your heart pounding. The scientist fell back, fear numbing his body as he began to quietly plead. 

“Feed. Drink every drop.” The voice in your head commanded.

You pounced on him, his scream cut silent as you began to drink, the taste making your body shiver with ecstasy. You couldn’t stop, drinking well past the last time. The voices in your mind were now silent. You pulled your teeth out of his neck, just as you heard people round the corner.

2 men. In gear you had never seen before. You felt the fire in you diminishing as fear crawled back up your spine. You stood, your feet readying under you. 

 

They wouldn’t trap you again. You’d be damned. 

 

“Hey now…We aren’t—“ 

 

His sentence was cut short as you bolted down the hall, feet burning in pain as they slammed onto the broken glass around you. You could hear them chasing you, and it only made you move faster. 

 

Almost. Almost there.

 

“Woah there! We cannae have you running away, now can we?” 

 

You felt him scoop you up and toss you over his shoulder, making you thrash around like a cat in water. You watched as the rest began to get closer and for the first time in a while, you let yourself bawl.

 

“Soap, what did you do?!” 

 

“Nothin! The lass just started to cry!” 

 

“She’s traumatized you idiot!” 

 

You were taken into a warm embrace, your face pressed against someone’s chest as they held you there like a small baby. He looked at you and softly smiled.

 

“Hey there. I’m Gaz.” 

 

His hazelnut brown eyes were boring into your now puffy and red rimmed ones, making your heart start to calm down. You didn’t trust them, not for one bit. But it was nice to see someone smiling at you without malice for the first time in god knows how long. You said nothing in response, just softly nodded to show you understood. 

 

“Gaz. Her feet.”

 

You looked at the blood that had dripped into a pool under you and you immediately grimaced at the sight. Your head immediately turned as you heard movement. You gasped softly as a behemoth of a man and a burly man with a bucket hat stepped out of the facility's office and began to approach you.

 

You felt your breathing speed up, fear paralyzing you still as he got closer. He stopped, a comfortable amount of space between you two. He looked at your feet and sighed.

 

“Doesn’t look like there’s any glass stuck inside. Let’s wrap it and get the medic to check on it when we get back.” 

 

The two guys, Soap and Gaz, nodded in conformation. Soap pulled out some gauze and antiseptic, opening the packages.

 

“This will hurt lass, sorry in advance.”

 

Gaz held you carefully as Soap cleaned your feet, making you yelp in pain, grease warm tears feeling your eyes at the sting. You listened to Gaz’s soft words as he tried to calm you down, just as Soap wrapped your feet.

 

“Exfil is here. Everyone ready?”

 

“Always captain.”

 

You gripped Gaz as he carried you out of the facility, looking up only when he softly set you down in a helicopter chair. 

 

You were finally free. 

Chapter 3: Freedom.

Notes:

All the love makes me want to cryyyy!!! Thank you all so so much! I love you all! Comment your favorite part!

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Gaz leaned against the doorframe of the safehouse, staring down the hallway toward your room. It had been three days since they’d pulled you out of that hellish facility, but the images of what they’d found there still haunted him. The sterile walls, the scent of chemicals, and you—eyes wide with terror.

He had seen a lot in his years on the team, but this was different. This was worse.

“She’s still not awake,” Ghost said as he approached, his heavy boots thudding on the hardwood floor as he made his way from the kitchen. He carried a tray with untouched food, shaking his head. “Eat Gaz, you barely touched this.”

“I will,” Gaz replied, though he didn’t sound convinced.

Ghost sighed and set the tray down. “You think we did the right thing, bringing her here? She’s dangerous. You saw what she did back there.”

Gaz turned to him sharply. “She’s a victim. A person who was tortured. Of course she’s dangerous. They made her that way.”

Ghost held up his hands. “I’m just saying. We need to be careful. She doesn’t even trust us.”

“Would you?” Gaz asked.

Ghost didn’t answer.

——————————————————————————

The first thing you noticed was the light. It wasn’t harsh and artificial like in your cell, nor blinding like the interrogation room’s overhead lamps. This light was soft, golden, streaming through a window you couldn’t yet see. You blinked against it, your eyes adjusting to the warmth.

Your body ached. Every muscle felt stretched too far, your mind still buzzing with whispers you couldn’t quite ignore. You tried to sit up, but your head spun, and you collapsed back onto the soft bed.

“Easy,” a voice said, calm and reassuring.

You flinched, instinctively raising your hands in defense. You felt the faintest ripple of energy stir in the air around you, but it dissipated just as quickly.

“It’s okay,” the voice continued. “You’re safe now.”

Safe. The word felt foreign, almost meaningless. You turned your head, finally registering the figure seated beside your bed. It was a woman, her face lined with concern but kind. She wore a tactical jacket, though her weapons were nowhere in sight. Instead, she held medical tools.

“Where… where am I?” You croaked, your voice hoarse.

“A safehouse,” the woman replied. “My name’s Evelyn. I’m with the team that got you out. I’m the medic that they were insistent on you seeing.”

Your memories were foggy, flashes of chaos and light. The sound of gunfire, the crackle of energy, the way the walls had trembled as you fought against the facility’s restraints. You remembered people—strangers—rushing to your aid, shouting things you couldn’t understand. You remembered the glass, the calming voices. 

“Why?” You asked, your voice breaking. “Why did you save me?”

Evelyn hesitated, then leaned closer, her voice soft. “Because what they did to you was wrong. No one deserves that.”

Your throat tightened. You wanted to believe her, but trust wasn’t something you could give freely anymore.

Evelyn didn’t say much more, instead began to look over your cut up feet. She smiled and explained the severity of the damage, explaining how you would heal okay. She cleaned the wounds and took to throwing the old bandages out. 

You watched as she gathered her things, nodding softly to you before walking out. You sighed in sadness and felt your head hit the pillow again.

5 minutes later, you were out cold

———————————————————————————

The night they’d rescued you was a blur of chaos. The team had infiltrated the facility under the cover of darkness, disabling the perimeter alarms and cutting through reinforced doors. Gaz remembered the moment they found you—alone in that hall, blood dripping from your chin.

You had looked so small, eyes filled with fear, your hands trembling. But when they approached, you ran, your fear manifesting as raw, uncontrollable speed. The air had felt filled with energy, and a dive was needed to catch you. It had taken everything Gaz had to calm you down. He’d spoken softly, keeping his hands visible, trying to break through the terror that clouded your eyes.

“We’re here to help you,” He had said over and over until you finally stopped shaking.

Now, as Gaz stood in the safehouse, he wondered if you even believed him.

The next morning, Price was hunched over his laptop in the kitchen, sifting through the data they’d pulled from the facility. Gaz poured himself a cup of coffee and sat across from him.

“Find anything useful?” He asked.

Price nodded grimly. “Plenty. Files on her—Subject 42, they called her. They started experimenting on her when she was 28. Chemical enhancements, neural rewiring, the works. They wanted to turn her into a weapon.”

Gaz’s stomach turned. “And now?”

Price hesitated. “Her powers… they’re off the charts. Whatever they did to her, it worked. But it’s unstable. She’s unstable. If she loses control…”

“She won’t,” Gaz said firmly.

Price raised an eyebrow. “You sound pretty sure of that.”

Gaz took a sip of his coffee, staring into the black liquid. “She’s scared, not dangerous. She just needs someone to believe in her.”

Later that day, Price called a team meeting. You were still in your room, the door closed, but Gaz kept one ear toward the hallway in case you decided to join them.

“We need a plan,” He said, crossing his arms. “We can’t keep her cooped up here forever. If those people come looking for her—and you know they will—we need to be ready.”

“We are ready,” Gaz replied. “That’s why we’re here.”

“She’s a walking time bomb,” Ghost argued. “If she loses control again, she could bring this whole place down. What then?”

“Then we help her,” Gaz shot back. “We teach her to control it. She didn’t ask for any of this. She deserves a chance.”

Soap sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just hope we’re not in over our heads.”

“We’ve been in over our heads before,” Gaz chimed in. “We always find a way out.”

“Yeah,” Price muttered. “Let’s hope we survive this one.”

That evening, Gaz decided to try again. He knocked lightly on your door, waiting for a response. When none came, he opened it slowly.

You were sitting by the window, staring out at the woods. Your shoulders were slumped, your hands resting on your knees.

“Hey,” Gaz said softly, stepping inside. “Mind if I sit?”

You didn’t answer, but you didn’t say no either.

Gaz sat down beside you, the two of you gazing out at the fading light.

“You’ve been through a lot,” He began. “More than anyone should ever have to.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper. “Why did you save me?”

Gaz hesitated. He had asked himself that question a hundred times. “Because no one deserves what they did to you. And because I see something in you—something they tried to take away but couldn’t.”

You turned to look at him, your eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

“You’re (y/n),” Gaz said firmly. “You’re strong, you’re brave, and you’re alive. That’s enough for now.”

You blinked, a tear slipping down your cheek. “What if I hurt someone?”

Gaz reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Then we’ll be here to help you. You’re not alone anymore.”

That night, as the team sat around the table, you appeared in the doorway. You hesitated, your eyes darting nervously between everyone, but Gaz smiled and gestured for you to join.

You sat down, your movements tentative, but you stayed.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And for Gaz, for the team, and maybe even for you, it was enough.

————————————————-

As they talked, the conversation turned to the mission. The team recounted the operation, how they had infiltrated the facility, neutralized the guards, and found you.

“You tore the whole place apart,” one of the men, a burly soldier named Price, said with a grin. “I mean, literally. Walls crumbling, lights flickering. It was like the facility itself was afraid of you.”

You flinched, shame flooding you. “I didn’t mean to. I couldn’t control it.”

Price’s grin faded. “I didn’t mean it like that. What you did—it gave us the chance to get to you. If anything, you saved us.”

You looked up, surprised.

“Your abilities are extraordinary,” Gaz added. “But I know they must feel like a curse right now. That’s why we want to help you.”

“Help me?” You asked, skepticism lacing your voice.

Soap nodded. “You’ve been through hell. What they did to you, it’ll take time to heal from. But you don’t have to do it alone. We can help you learn to control your abilities, to use them on your terms.”

You stared at him, the offer almost too much to comprehend. For so long, you had been nothing more than a tool—a subject, an experiment. Now, these strangers were offering you something you hadn’t dared hope for: freedom.

Chapter 4: Train Me?

Notes:

I LOVE YOU ALL!!!

(Just had to make sure you guys knew!)

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

You sat cross-legged on the cold concrete floor of the central room, your glowing crimson eyes fixed on your trembling hands. You had tried to suppress the hunger that gnawed at you. But it was virtually impossible with all the beating hearts around you. The team had patched you up after the escape, but your wounds had already healed faster than they could re-bandage them.

You had always feared what you had become, but now, seeing the fear in the soldiers’ eyes as they watched you from a distance, it hit harder.

“I’m a monster,” you muttered under your breath, your voice barely audible.

“You’re not,” Gaz said, stepping into the room. He carried a metal thermos, which he handed to you. “Drink. You need your strength.”

You unscrewed the lid, your enhanced senses catching the sharp, metallic scent. Blood. The team had acquired it from a hospital, unwilling to let you feed the way you once had. You hesitated, your stomach churning with hunger and shame, before tipping it back.

Soap crouched down across from you, his brown eyes steady. “You saved us back there. We wouldn’t have made it out without you.”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, your expression bitter. “And now you’re all scared of me.”

Gaz didn’t deny it. “They’re not used to you yet. Neither are you. But that doesn’t make you a monster.”

“It’s not just that,” you said, your voice cracking. “I don’t know what I am. I don’t know how to stop it. What if I hurt someone? What if I hurt you?”

He leaned forward, softly setting a hand on your head. You wanted to instinctively rub your head against his hand, the warmth making you calmer. “That’s why we’re here. To help you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Help me?” You whirled around, your movements too fast, too fluid, making the soldiers flinch. “You dragged me out of there, but you don’t even know what I am. How can you help me when I can’t even control this?”

Your voice cracked as you gestured to yourself—the pale skin, the claws, the fangs that you couldn’t retract until your body chose too. You hated how alien you felt, how monstrous.

The burly man, Price, stepped forward cautiously. “We’re not your enemy. If we didn’t think you were worth saving, we wouldn’t have come for you.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Worth saving? Look at me!” You bared your teeth, your fangs glinting in the dim light. “I’m a weapon. A monster. I don’t even know if I can stop myself if—when—I lose control.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air.

The mountain giant, Ghost as he was called, pushed off the wall and approached you slowly, his expression from what you could tell was calm but firm. “You’re right. We don’t know what you’re capable of. But you do. You’ve survived this long, fought back against them, and you’re still here. That says something.”

“I don’t even know who ‘me’ is anymore,” You muttered, your voice softer.

“Then let’s figure that out together,” Gaz said.

 

——————————————————————-

The bunker’s central briefing room was dimly lit, the hum of old fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over the gathered team. Price stood at the head of the table, his arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the soldiers seated around him.

“She’s dangerous, Captain,” Soap said, leaning forward. His voice was firm but edged with unease. “You’ve seen what she can do. If she ever decides to turn on us…”

“She hasn’t,” Gaz interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And she won’t.”

“She could,” Wolf chimed in. He was younger, nervous, the shadows of their last mission still haunting him. “She ripped through those operatives like paper. If we hadn’t been on her side—”

“She is on our side,” Gaz said sharply, his voice cutting through the room. He looked around at the team, his expression stern. “We brought her out of that hellhole. If we don’t help her, who will? She didn’t ask for this.”

Price sighed, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. “No, she didn’t. But that doesn’t mean we can trust her completely. We’ve all seen the hunger in her eyes. She’s fighting it, sure—but what if one day she loses?”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling over them.

Ghost, who had been quiet until now, leaned back in his chair. “She’s not the only one struggling. Look at us. We’ve never dealt with someone like her before. She’s not a typical asset, and she’s definitely not a typical threat. We don’t even know what she’s fully capable of yet.”

“That’s why we train her,” Gaz said, his voice steady.

“And how do we do that?” Wolf asked. “We’re soldiers, not scientists. We’re trained to fight humans—not whatever she is.”

“We train her the way we’d train anyone else,” Gaz said. “By teaching her discipline, control, and how to channel her abilities for a purpose. We can’t treat her like a monster, or that’s exactly what she’ll become.”

Price nodded slowly. “It’s not just about teaching her how to fight—it’s about teaching her how to stop fighting. She needs to learn restraint.”

“Exactly,” Gaz said. He glanced at Soap . “You saw her with the simulation today. She’s already improving. She held back when she needed to. She protected us. She wants to be better.”

Wolf shifted in his seat. “But what if she can’t control it? What if the hunger’s too strong?”

Price gave him a pointed look. “You ever been scared in combat, kid? Felt like you were gonna snap under pressure?”

Wolf nodded reluctantly.

“It’s the same for her. She’s scared of what she can do, but she’s still trying. That’s more than most people would do.”

“She’s not a soldier,” Wolf argued softly.

“She wasn’t,” Gaz corrected. “But she’s becoming one. And she’s one hell of an asset. We need her as much as she needs us.”

The room fell silent again, the team exchanging uncertain glances. Finally, Price sighed.

“All right,” he said. “But we need a plan. She’s not going to get better on her own.”

Gaz nodded, pulling out a notebook. “Here’s what I’ve been thinking. We focus on three things: strength, speed, and control. Soap, you’ve got hand-to-hand combat experience. You’re working with her on precision strikes—teaching her how to pull punches and fight with finesse instead of brute force.”

Soap smirked. “Got it. She’ll be a nightmare in close quarters.”

“Ghost, you’re on tactical movement. She’s fast, but she needs to learn how to use her speed strategically. It’s not about how quick she can run—it’s about how smart she can move.”

Ghost nodded. “I can work with that.”

“Wolf, you’re her spotter. You’ll shadow her during exercises, keep an eye on her progress, and give real-time feedback.”

Wolf blinked, clearly surprised. “Me? But—”

“You’re observant,” Gaz said firmly. “And she needs to trust someone closer to her level. You’ll learn from her as much as she’ll learn from you.”

Wolf swallowed hard but nodded.

“And me, ‘Captain?’” Price asked, a smirk on his face.

“I’ll be working with her on self-control,” Gaz said. “She needs to understand her limits—physical, emotional, and otherwise. That’s the hardest part, but it’s also the most important. You can work with me on that.” 

Price raised an eyebrow. “You think she’ll listen?”

Gaz gave a faint smile. “She already is.”

As the meeting ended, the team filed out, their unease tempered by a sense of purpose.

“Captain,” Gaz said, pausing at the door.

Price looked up.

“Do you really think she can do this? Control it, I mean?”

Price hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I do. But it’s not just about her. It’s about us, too. If we don’t believe in her, she’ll never believe in herself.”

Gaz nodded, his expression thoughtful, and left the room.

Price stayed behind, his gaze lingering on the plans they had sketched out. He knew it wouldn’t be easy. The team’s trust in you was fragile, and your trust in yourself was even more so. But you had something no experiment, no monster, no weapon could take away.

The will to fight—for yourself, for redemption, and for a chance at freedom

Chapter 5: Training Is Hard, But Rewarding.

Notes:

I HAVE COME UP WITH A SQUAD NAME FOR MY READERS.

WE ARE……THE TEA BUNNIES!

YAY!

I LOVE YOU GUYS.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

The bunker echoed with the sound of effort—grunts, rapid footsteps, and the heavy thud of fists against training mats. For weeks, you and the team had pushed through grueling sessions to harness your abilities. But for every small victory, there seemed to be an equal measure of failure.

“Again,” Price called, his voice firm but calm.

You groaned, your breath ragged as you stumbled to your feet. Your eyes flashed in frustration. You had broken another punching bag, and the shattered remains of a combat dummy lay scattered across the floor.

“I’m trying!” You snapped, glaring at the wreckage.

“We know you are,” Gaz said, stepping forward and tossing you a towel. “But you’ve got to focus. You’re not just a wrecking ball. You’ve got precision; you’ve just got to find it.”

“Easy for you to say,” You muttered, wiping your face. “You don’t have this… thing clawing at your mind every second, telling you to tear everything apart.”

“No, I don’t,” Gaz admitted, his voice softening. “But that’s why we’re here. You’re not alone in this.”

You looked around at the team—Price standing steady, Ghost nodding in agreement, Wolf offering a nervous but encouraging smile, Soap and Gaz smiling brightly at you. They weren’t giving up on you, even when you felt like giving up on yourself.

“Fine,” you muttered. “Let’s go again.”

Over the weeks, the team faced countless setbacks.

During speed training, your enhanced reflexes caused you to overshoot targets or collide with obstacles, leaving walls cracked and equipment broken. Ghost grew frustrated with the trail of destruction, but Gaz reminded him, “She’s learning. Mistakes are part of that.”

Hand-to-hand combat with Soap proved equally challenging. Your strength was overwhelming; you couldn’t always pull your punches, and more than once, Soap ended up bruised and winded.

“That's all you got?” he’d joke, wincing as he got back up. “You hit like a human.”

“You’re not funny,” You would reply, though a faint smile would betray your gratitude.

Then there was the hunger. That was the hardest.

Your bloodlust often flared during training, triggered by stress or exhaustion. More than once, you’d freeze in the middle of a session, your crimson eyes locking on a teammate, your fangs glinting as you struggled to suppress the primal urge.

“It’s okay,” Gaz would say, stepping between you and the others. “You’re in control. Take a breath.”

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. But no matter how many times you failed, the team never stopped encouraging.

“You’re stronger than this,” Wolf said one evening, surprising everyone with his determination. “You’ve already come this far. What’s a little further?”

 

—————————————————————————-

The final week of your training was brutal for everyone. Tensions were high, patience was thin, and exhaustion weighed heavy. But despite the setbacks, no one suggested giving up—not on you, and not on the mission.

“She’s got potential,” Price said, standing at the monitor in the control room. His arms were crossed as he watched you maneuver through a stealth drill. You were fast, too fast sometimes, which made you reckless. “She just doesn’t know how to control it yet.”

Ghost leaned against the console, his brow furrowed. “Potential’s one thing, Captain. Reliability’s another. She’s still blowing past her limits half the time. Last week, she cracked one of Johnny’s ribs in hand-to-hand. What happens if she panics in a real fight?”

“She apologized for that, you know,” Soap said, walking in with a cup of coffee. His grin was lopsided, but there was no bitterness in his tone. “And she’s getting better. Hell, she’s better than any of us were in the beginning. She’s just got more to figure out.”

“More to figure out?” Wolf muttered from the corner. He was cleaning his rifle, though he hadn’t used it since their escape. “She’s like a bomb waiting to go off. One second she’s fine, and the next—”

“She’s fighting it,” Gaz interrupted. His voice was calm but firm, enough to make Wolf sit up straight. “And she’s fighting it for us, for the mission, for herself. You don’t think she knows what she’s capable of? She’s terrified of hurting anyone.”

Soap sipped his coffee. “Yeah, and that’s the difference, isn’t it? She’s trying. That’s more than we can say for half the people we’ve worked with over the years.”

Ghost grunted. “Doesn’t mean it’s easy. I’ve had to reinforce every damn piece of equipment in this place just to keep up with her. You’d think we were training a tank.”

“Better a tank than a ticking time bomb,” Price replied, glancing back at the screen. You had just finished the drill, and you looked frustrated—again. You made it through most of the obstacles, but your last move had been too forceful, sending a dummy flying into the wall.

“She’s too hard on herself,” Gas said, shaking his head.

“So are we,” Price admitted. “But we have to be. She’s not just learning to fight—she’s learning how not to fight. That’s a hell of a lot harder.”

The obstacles weren’t just yours. They were the team’s as well.

Soap took the brunt of the physical training, serving as your sparring partner. He learned quickly to anticipate your movements, knowing that one misstep could send him flying across the room.

“She’s faster than I can keep up with,” he said one day after a particularly rough session, wincing as he held an ice pack to his shoulder. “But she’s pulling her punches now. She didn’t at first.”

Ghost handled the logistics, setting up challenges that pushed your limits without overwhelming you. But even he grew frustrated when your mistakes left equipment shattered or drills incomplete.

“Every time she breaks something, it’s two steps back,” he muttered to Price. “She’s strong, sure, but what good is that if she can’t control it?”

“She’s learning,” Price replied. “And so are we.”

Wolf, the youngest and least experienced of the group, struggled with fear. He couldn’t forget the way you had torn through their enemies during the escape, your eyes glowing with predatory hunger. But he also saw how hard you were trying to rein it in.

“She scares me,” he admitted to Soap one evening. “But… she’s not what I thought she’d be. She’s trying so hard not to hurt anyone. I guess that counts for something.”

Soap clapped him on the back. “Counts for everything. We’re all scared, but fear’s just part of the job.”

 

————————————————————————-

 

The final test came after six long weeks.

The team had designed a comprehensive simulation, combining everything you had trained for: stealth, speed, strength, precision, and self-control. The bunker’s largest room had been transformed into a maze of obstacles, with holographic “enemies” programmed to react unpredictably.

“If you can get through this,” Price said, addressing you and the team, “you’ll prove to yourself that you can handle anything.”

You swallowed hard, nerves twisting in your stomach. “What happens if I fail?”

“You won’t,” Gaz said, slapping you on the back. “But even if you do, we’ll be right here to help you get back up.”

You took a deep breath, nodding. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

The test began with a burst of action.

You darted through the maze, your heightened senses on full alert. The first wave of holographic enemies appeared—faceless operatives armed with batons and tranquilizers. You took them down quickly, moving with precision and restraint.

“Nice work,” Ghost muttered, watching you on the monitors with the rest of the team. “She’s keeping her strength in check.”

The second wave was tougher. Drones buzzed overhead, their beams scanning for you. You used your speed to evade detection, slipping between shadows and dodging traps.

“She’s thinking like a soldier,” Price admitted, grudgingly impressed.

The third wave was the hardest: a simulated hostage scenario. A projection of Willis—designed to mimic his voice and movements—was “trapped” in a cage, surrounded by armed enemies.

You froze for a moment, your eyes flicking between the cage and the guards. The hunger clawed at you, the stress of the situation threatening to overwhelm you. You looked at the camera, knowing the team could see you.

“She’s freezing,” Wolf said nervously.

“Give her a second,” Gaz said.

They watched as your hands clenched into fists, your eyes flicking between the guards and the cage. For a moment, it looked like you might lose control—but then you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“She’s calming herself,” Price said quietly.

When you opened your eyes, you moved with precision. The guards went down one by one, each strike deliberate and controlled. You tore the cage door off without harming the holographic “hostage,” completing the simulation.

The alarm sounded, signaling your success.

For a moment, the team just stared at the screen, processing what they’d seen.

“She did it,” Wolf said, breaking the silence.

Price grinned. “Damn right she did.”

Ghost stood, his expression proud but calm. “Let’s go tell her.”

When they reached the training room, you were standing in the center, breathing hard but victorious.

“You did it!” Gaz said, his voice breaking the tension.

“Not bad,” Ghost said, giving you a rare smile. “I might actually stop worrying about you wrecking my equipment.”

“You’ve come a long way,” Price said, stepping forward. His voice was steady, but there was no hiding the pride in his eyes. “We all knew you could do it.”

You looked at them, your crimson eyes settling back to their natural color, shimmering with emotion. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Soap laughed. “Damn right you couldn’t. Who else would let you toss them around like a ragdoll for six weeks?”

The group burst into laughter, the weight of their struggles finally lifting.

For the first time, they didn’t see you as an experiment, a threat, or a liability. You were one of them now—a fighter, a teammate, and a friend.

“She’s ready,” Gaz said quietly, watching you smile and cheer around the room.

And for the first time, the entire team believed it.

Chapter 6: First Taste.

Notes:

SPICY CHAPTER IS ON ZE WAY!

Ahem.

Now that’s that is out the way, THANK YOU GUYS SOOOOOO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT! I LOVE YOU ALL SMMM.

I’m glad you guys are enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it! I love all of you guys’s support!!

The common room buzzed with quiet discussion as the team gathered around the map table. Supplies were running low again—food, medical equipment, ammunition—and their cache wasn’t going to last another week. 

The worst part, they had run out of blood to give you.

“When the fuck are we going to be allowed to go back with Laswell and Shepard?” Soap asked, even if he knew the answer.

Laswell had told Price on the first night that they weren’t allowed to return until they got you under control. The army lost people all the time, but they couldn’t lose people due to you, She said. 

Ghost traced his finger over a route he’d sketched. “There’s a supply depot here, about thirty clicks out. Shouldn’t take more than a day if we move fast.”

“Yeah, if we don’t hit trouble,” Price muttered, leaning back in his chair. “That area’s crawling with patrols. And we can’t afford to lose focus—not with her in the condition she’s in.”

“She’s fine,” Gaz said, his tone even. He stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

“She’s barely fine,” Wolf piped up, earning a glare from Gaz. The younger soldier hesitated but pressed on. “You weren’t here earlier. She had another flare-up during drills. It’s getting worse, Gaz. The hunger’s messing with her head.”

Gaz didn’t flinch. “She’s learning to handle it.”

Soap shrugged. “Maybe. But Wolf has a point. If we’re all out there and she… loses control—”

“She won’t,” Gaz interrupted, his voice calm but firm.

The room fell silent, the tension thick.

“Look,” Price said, breaking the quiet. “We all want to believe in her. Hell, I do believe in her. But you can’t ignore the risk. Leaving her alone isn’t an option.”

“I’m not ignoring it,” Gaz replied. “That’s why I’m staying.”

The team exchanged glances. Price leaned forward, Soap frowned, Ghost tilted his head, and Wolf looked downright alarmed.

“With her?” Wolf asked, his voice rising slightly. “Alone? Gaz, that’s—”

“Necessary,” Gaz said, cutting him off.

Price leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You sure about this, kid? I mean, she’s come a long way, yeah, but you’ve seen what she’s capable of when the hunger takes over.”

“I have,” Gaz said, meeting Price’s gaze. “And I’ve also seen how hard she’s fighting it. She’s not a liability—she’s part of this team. And it’s my job to make sure she succeeds.”

“It’s not about her effort,” Ghost said. “It’s about biology. The hunger isn't something you can reason with, Gaz. What if you’re wrong?”

Gaz’s jaw tightened. “Then I’ll deal with it. But I won’t abandon her because we’re scared.”

The conviction in his voice was unshakable, but the hesitation in the room was palpable.

“You trust her that much?” Soap asked, leaning back in his chair.

“I do,” Gaz said simply.

Wolf ran a hand through his hair, clearly unsettled. “You’re braver than I am.”

“It’s not about bravery,” Gaz said. “It’s about trust. If we’re asking her to trust us—to follow us, fight with us—then we owe her the same. She needs to know she’s not alone in this.”

Price sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Fine. But if something goes wrong…”

“It won’t,” Gaz said firmly.

Price smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, when you put it like that, guess we don’t have much of a choice, do we?”

Wolf still looked nervous but said nothing.

“Good,” Gaz said, turning back to the map. “You three handle the supply run. Stay sharp, stick to the plan, and get back here as fast as you can. Soap, can you watch the perimeter? 

Soap smiled. “Course I can. Nobody is getting into this house if I have a say about it.”

The rest of the team nodded, though their unease lingered as they dispersed to prepare for the mission.

As the others left the room, Soap lingered, watching Gaz with a thoughtful expression.

“You really think she’s ready to handle this?” he asked quietly, walking over and softly lifting his chin.

Gaz looked up from the table, meeting the Scottish male’s soft gaze. “No. But I am.”

Soap chuckled softly. “Fair enough. Just… don’t get yourself killed proving a point, yeah?”

Gaz gave him a small, tired smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Soap pressed a soft peck to his forehead before heading out, leaving Gaz alone with his thoughts—and the daunting reality of what he’d just volunteered for.

———————————————————————

You had seemed fine at first, practicing some precision drills while Gaz reviewed reports. But as the hours dragged on, you became incredibly restless.

The first sign was your pacing.

Then came the heavy breathing, followed by the soft growl you tried to suppress.

“Hey,” Gaz said, setting down his tablet. He watched you as you leaned against the wall, your claws out and lightly scraping the concrete. “What’s going on?”

You shook your head, refusing to look at him. “It’s nothing. I just… I need a break.”

But he could see the truth in your stiff posture, the way your muscles tensed like a spring wound too tight.

“It’s the hunger, isn’t it?”

Your silence was answer enough.

“Is it?,” He said more firmly, standing and walking toward you.

“Stay back!” You snapped, your voice trembling with both fear and frustration. You turned your face away, your now crimson eyes hidden beneath a curtain of hair.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Gaz said calmly.

“You don’t know that!” You shot back, your claws extending fully now. “I can feel it clawing at me, Gaz. It’s worse when I’m alone, and the others aren’t here, and I can hear—” you stopped, your voice breaking.

Gaz felt a chill crawl up his spine. “You can hear what?”

“Your heartbeat,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “It’s so loud. And the smell—God, the smell. It’s like… it’s calling to me.”

Gaz didn’t flinch, but he felt his pulse quicken. You winced as if the sound of it was torture.

Gaz knew it wasn’t fear causing his heart to race. No, a deep feeling that began to bubble inside his stomach.

Curiosity. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can fight it,” you said, sliding down the wall until you were sitting on the floor, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. “I don’t want to hurt you. Please, just… lock me in the cell. I’ll be fine.”

He crouched down a few feet away, his voice steady but soft. “Starving yourself isn’t the answer. We’ve talked about this.”

“I don’t have another choice!” You yelled, your crimson eyes snapping to his. “Do you think I want this? To look at you and feel like—like I’m some kind of predator? I hate it, Gaz. I hate all of it.”

His jaw tightened as he watched you, the weight of your words sinking in. You were trembling now, your hands gripping your knees so tightly your knuckles had gone pale.

Let her bite you. Give her that taste. 

Gaz cleared his throat, attempting to shove away his thoughts as if you could read them. 

“You do have a choice,” Gaz said after a long moment. “And so do I.”

You frowned, confused.

“I can let you starve,” he continued, his voice calm but firm. “Or I can help you get through. The right way.”

Your eyes widened in horror as you realized what he was implying. “No. No, I can’t. I won’t. I’ll lose control. I’ll—”

“You won’t,” Gaz interrupted, his tone unwavering. “You’ve proven over and over that you can stop yourself. You’re stronger than you think. But you can’t keep denying what you are. The hunger doesn’t go away just because you ignore it. You have to face it.”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “And what if I can’t stop? What if I k-kill you?”

“You won’t,” he said again. He shifted closer, just enough to offer his neck. “I trust you.”

You stared at his neck like a viper ready to strike. The scent of his blood was intoxicating, and the sound of his heartbeat was deafening in your ears. Your fangs ached, your instincts screaming at you to give in.

“No,” you whispered, clenching your teeth. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Gaz said, his voice steady. “I’m letting you.”

You closed your eyes, your body trembling as you warred with yourself. The hunger was overwhelming, a black void threatening to swallow you whole. But beyond it, you could hear Gaz’s voice, steady and sure.

“I trust you,” he repeated. I want you too.

Slowly, you moved onto his lap, reaching around his body to angle yourself with his neck, your claws retracting as your fingers brushed his skin. You brought your lips to his skin, your fangs barely grazing the surface.

“Stop me if I go too far,” you murmured, your voice breaking.

“I will,” he promised.

With a deep breath, you bit down.

The taste of his blood was unlike anything you ever experienced—a flood of warmth and life that seemed to quiet the storm inside you. You tried to drink cautiously, your instincts roaring for more. Once you drank enough to still your thoughts, you  tried to move. You were shocked to find Gaz’s hands holding you in place, a groan leaving his lips. 

You forced yourself to pull away, panting as you moved back and looked up at his face. His face was tinted red with a blush as he stared back at you with parted lips as he breathed softly. “See?” He said, his voice slightly strained. “You’re in control.”

You pulled your arms from around him, your breathing ragged. Your eyes were still glowing crimson, as you stared at him, a new feeling gnawing at your insides.

Desire.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Gaz said, wiping your mouth with the back of his hand. “You did it. You proved you’re stronger than the hunger.”

You continued to look at him, your expression a mix of relief and gratitude. “Thank you,” you said softly.

Gaz gave you a small, gentle smile. “Anytime.”

And for the first time in days, the room felt quiet—not from emptiness, but from peace.

Chapter 7: Forbidden.

 

The bunker was still. The dim lights buzzed faintly, casting long shadows across the concrete walls. Gaz leaned against the table in the common room, the supply logs open before him, though his eyes weren’t reading. His mind was elsewhere—on you.

He hadn’t seen you in hours. After their earlier clash, you had retreated to your room, leaving the silence to settle like a weight in the air. He’d told himself it was better this way. You needed space to regain control, and he needed distance to focus. But distance didn’t help when your presence lingered in every thought.

He shook his head, trying to banish the images that crept into his mind. The flash of crimson in your eyes when your powers flared. The graceful, predatory way you moved in training. The way your voice, low and trembling, had broken when you confessed your hunger.

Gaz clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus on the logs in front of him. She’s your responsibility, he reminded himself. Your team. Your mission.

But that didn’t stop the thoughts from surfacing.

He remembered the way your hands had trembled when you had reached for his neck earlier, the touch hesitant but electric. The warmth of your breath against his skin before you bit down. The memory stirred something primal in him, something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Your presence was everywhere, even when you weren’t  in the room. Every claw mark on the training dummies, every faint trace of your scent, every stray strand of your hair left behind. He couldn’t escape you, and worse, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

It was the hunger he saw in you—the same hunger he felt creeping into his own thoughts.

The door creaked open, and his heart sank into his stomach as if summoned by his thoughts.

You stepped into the room, your bare feet silent on the cold floor. You wore a loose hoodie and leggings, your hair slightly disheveled, as if you’d just woken up. Despite the casual appearance, you carried yourself with that same quiet intensity that always unnerved and drew him.

Your crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, and when they found him, Gaz felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked, your voice soft but clear.

“Something like that,” he replied, his tone neutral as he forced his gaze back to the papers.

You didn’t leave. Instead, you crossed the room and sank into the chair across from him, resting your elbows on the table.

“Me neither,” you said after a moment. “It’s too quiet without the team here.”

Gaz glanced up at you, trying to gauge your mood. You didn’t look restless, as you sometimes did when the hunger was bad. Tonight, you just looked… tired.

“I’ll tell Price to bring back earplugs,” he said dryly, earning a small smile and giggle from you.

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

Silence fell between them, and Gaz’s pen stilled in his hand. He could feel your eyes on him, studying him.

“Gaz,” you said softly, your voice almost hesitant. “Am I making this harder for you?”

He froze.

“What do you mean?”

You leaned back in your chair, your gaze drifting to the papers in front of him. “All of this. The training. The trust you’ve put in me. Sometimes I feel like… like I’m pushing you too far. Like I’m not worth the trouble.”

Your words hit him like a punch to the gut. He set the pen down, meeting your eyes with a seriousness that left no room for doubt.

“Look at me.” he said firmly, making your eyes lock with his. “You’re worth every second of it. And you’re not making this harder for me. If anything, you’re making it easier.”

Your eyes widened slightly, the faint glow in them softening as your eyes returned to their natural color. Oh how he loved that. 

“How?”

Gaz hesitated, the weight of the truth pressing against his chest. He couldn’t tell you—not all of it. He couldn’t tell you how your presence consumed his thoughts, how the memory of your touch lingered, how his pulse raced whenever you were near.

Instead, he settled for something safer.

“Because you remind me why we’re doing this,” he said. “Why we are fighting so hard to give you a chance. You’ve shown more strength and resilience than most people ever would. That’s not a burden—it’s a reason to keep going.”

Your lips parted, as if you wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Gaz cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “You should try to get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be another long day.”

You tilted your head slightly, your gaze lingering on him. “And what about you? When do you rest?”

He smirked faintly, picking up his pen again. “When this is all over.”

You smiled—a small, genuine smile that sent a pang through his chest. “Goodnight, Gaz.”

“Goodnight.”

You stood and walked toward the door, and Gaz forced himself to keep his eyes on the papers in front of him.

When the door clicked shut behind you, he let out a slow breath, his hand tightening around the pen. The forbidden desire coiled in his chest, impossible to ignore.

Stay focused, he told himself. She’s not yours to want.

But no matter how many times he repeated it, the truth was undeniable.

You weren't his to want.

But he wanted you all the same.

————————————————————————————————————

You laid on your cot, staring at the ceiling as the faint hum of the bunker reverberated around you. Sleep felt impossible. Every time you close your eyes, your thoughts drift back to Gaz—his steady presence, the way he spoke to you with unwavering certainty, the way his voice softened whenever you doubted yourself.

And that scent. His scent. Warm, earthy, grounding. It lingered in your mind, in the chaos of your new existence.

You rolled onto your side, clutching the blanket tighter around your shoulders. The quiet of the bunker was unbearable. It magnified your thoughts, your hunger, and the ache you couldn’t explain.

“Stop it,” You whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t push him from your mind.

A soft growl escaped your throat as you sat up, your bare feet meeting the cold floor. You didn’t even know where you were going as you stepped out of your room, your instincts guiding you through the dimly lit hallways.

When you found herself standing outside Gaz’s door, you hesitated. This was insane. Reckless. Stupid. He’d never let you hear the end of it if he woke up and caught you here.

And yet, your hand lifted to the handle, and you turned it silently.

The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the emergency light outside the door. Gaz was sprawled on the small bed, his arm draped over his chest, his face relaxed in sleep.

You stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind you. For a moment, you just stood there, watching him.

He looked different like this—softer, almost vulnerable. The tension he always carried in his shoulders was gone, and the faint furrow in his brow had smoothed.

Your heart ached at the sight of him. He was fighting so hard for you, giving you the strength you didn’t always feel you deserved.

You didn’t mean to step closer, but your feet moved of their own accord. Your hunger whispered at the back of your mind, a constant presence you couldn’t ignore, but this wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about feeding.

It was about him.

Without thinking, you slipped under the blanket, careful not to disturb him. The bed was small, and you had to curl up to fit, your body pressed lightly against his side.

The warmth of him enveloped you, and you let out a soft sigh, your head resting on his chest. you could hear his heartbeat—steady, strong. It grounded you, calming the storm inside.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the hunger quieted.

Gaz stirred slightly, his arm shifting as if on instinct, settling around your shoulders. you froze, your breath catching in your throat.

His voice was low, rough with sleep as you said your name.

You didn’t respond, unsure of what to say.

His hand tightened slightly, his fingers brushing against your back. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” You whispered, your voice trembling.

He was silent for a long moment, and you braced herself for him to tell you to leave. But instead, he let out a soft sigh.

“You can’t keep doing this,” he murmured, though his tone lacked conviction.

“I know,” you said, your voice small. “Just… let me stay. Just for a little while.”

He didn’t answer, but his arm remained around you, holding you close.

You close your eyes, your cheek resting against the warmth of his chest. The sound of his heartbeat lulled you, the steady rhythm soothing the chaos in your mind.

Marcus’s fingers brushed against your shoulder, a small, unconscious movement that sent a shiver through her.

“This isn’t fair,” he muttered under his breath, though it wasn’t clear if he was talking to you or himself.

You didn’t respond. you didn’t trust yourself too.

For now, you just let yourself be still, wrapped in the comfort of him, hoping the night wouldn’t end too soon.

For Gaz however, the night was torturous. 

He tightened his arm around you, his breathing uneven as he stared up at the ceiling. Your warmth pressed against him, your head nestled on his chest, and your soft, even breaths sent a mix of tension and longing coursing through him.

This was wrong. He knew it with every rational thought he could muster. He should tell you to go back to your room, create the distance he’d been fighting to maintain. But he didn’t.

His fingers rested lightly on your back, tracing small, absent patterns through the fabric of your hoodie. He told himself it was just to keep calm, to reassure you that you weren't alone. But the truth was far more dangerous.

Your scent filled the air around him—sweet, with an edge of something darker, something that made his pulse quicken despite his better judgment. He could feel your heartbeat, steady and soft, against his side, and the way your light frame seemed to fit perfectly against his.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry. His body was betraying him, and he hated himself for it.

You shifted slightly, your leg brushing against his, and a soft sigh escaped your lips. The sound sent a jolt through him, and he clenched his jaw, trying to wrest away the heat building in his chest.

He said your name quietly, his voice rough with restraint.

You didn’t move, but your fingers curled slightly against his shirt, holding onto him as if he were the only thing keeping you anchored.

“Hmm?” You murmured, your voice soft and drowsy.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, though his hand didn’t move from your back. “This… this isn’t a good idea.”

You shifted again, your doe eyes opening just enough to meet him in the dim light. “I know,” you whispered. “But I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your words hit him harder than he expected, and the vulnerability in your gaze made his resolve falter.

“I can’t keep you safe if you keep testing me like this,” he said, his voice quieter now.

He felt her body shiver at his words, making his entire body yell  at him to bite back his ever growing desire. 

“I’m not trying to test you,” you said, your tone laced with exhaustion. “I just… I needed to be near someone who doesn’t see me as a monster.”

His chest tightened at your words. “You’re not a monster.”

You let out a soft, bitter laugh. “You’re the only one who believes that.”

Gaz shook his head, his hand brushing up to cradle the back of your neck. “That’s not true. The team believes in you. I believe in you.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. “Sometimes, I think you’re the only thing keeping me from falling apart.”

His heart clenched, and he let out a slow breath. The weight of your words, the trust you placed in him—it was almost too much. He wanted to tell you you were stronger than you knew, that you didn’t need him to hold you together. But part of him didn’t want to let you go.

His free hand clenched into a fist at his side, fighting the instincts that urged him to pull you closer, to bury his face in your hair, to give in to the temptation that burned just beneath the surface.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

You opened your eyes again, your gaze searching his face. “What do you mean?”

Gaz hesitated, his fingers twitching against your neck. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t tell you how you were unraveling him, how the lines he’d drawn in his mind were blurring every time you looked at him like this.

“Please, Gaz. Just tell me. ”

He’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted you. And yet, he’d been holding back for so long, telling himself that he had to protect you, that he was responsible for keeping you safe—not only from the outside world, but from the darkness inside yourself.

But as he gazed down at you, your soft eyes meeting him, all of his carefully constructed barriers began to crumble. You were so close, your lips just inches from his, and he couldn’t stop the way his heart pounded. Your vulnerability, your strength, everything about you was pulling him in, erasing all the rational thoughts he had.

Your eyes, full of pleading, stared back at him, your breathing shallow, and he felt a fire spark within him—something he’d been trying so hard to suppress.

Without thinking, without considering the consequences, he whispered your name.

Your name on his lips was a prayer, a plea, and it echoed in the quiet of the room.

You didn’t move away. Didn’t stop him.

His hand, the one that had been resting so gently against your back, moved to your cheek, cupping it lightly. His thumb brushed across your skin, and he couldn’t ignore the electric jolt that ran through him.

“May I kiss you?” His voice was low, hoarse, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Please… I need you.”

The words hung between them, heavy and filled with longing, a rawness neither of them had acknowledged until now.

Your breath caught, your gaze flickering between his lips and his eyes. For a moment, everything seemed to pause—time stretching out, holding its breath as they both stood on the edge of something they couldn’t take back.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you closed the distance.

Your lips brushed against his, gentle at first, testing, as if you were waiting for him to stop you. But Gaz couldn’t stop himself. He kissed you back, his hand tightening in your hair, pulling you closer. The contact was like fire—like something both forbidden and necessary at the same time.

Your fingers pressed into his chest, your body arching toward him, and Gaz could feel the heat rising between them. His mind screamed at him to pull away, to stop this before it went too far, but he couldn’t hear it. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart, the frantic pulse of his desire.

You pulled back just slightly, your eyes searching for him, your breath shaky.

“You don’t have to do this,” You whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “We don’t have to do this. It’s dangerous.”

Gaz’s chest tightened at the vulnerability in your words, but his hand never left your face. He lifted his thumb to brush your lip, his own breath coming in shallow bursts.

“I can’t help it,” He murmured. “I can’t stop wanting you. I’ve tried, but I can’t.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I can stop myself either.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

For a long moment, Gaz held your gaze, as if trying to gauge whether you were really willing to cross this line with him, or if they were both too far gone to turn back. His heart pounded in his chest, a dangerous thrum of urgency mixed with desire.

Slowly, he leaned in again, this time with more certainty, kissing you deeply. Your hands slid up to his neck, pulling him closer as if you couldn’t get enough of him, and that hunger—both yours and his—ignited fully.

There was no turning back now.

He bit down softly on your lower lip, igniting a gasp from you. He took the opportunity to  slip his tongue inside your mouth. He flickered his tongue through every inch of your mouth, the warmth of your breath sending shivers through his spine. A dance of tongues insured before he pulled back. 

The view that met him made the fire in his ingulf 10 fold. 

The sight of your eyes, fading in between colors as desire stemmed inside you. The way your body shivered with each breath. The way your lips seemed fuller with saliva on them. 

“Gaz…” His name rolled off your tongue, like a symphony.

He kissed down on your neck, peppering the pale skin, his body moving on his own as he ran a hand down the stem of your back, over your hips. He kissed the pulsing vein, electing a whimper from you. He looked up at your absolutely adorable face before he began to suck on the skin, loving the noises you were making. 

“Gaz, Oh my, Kyle~” 

The use of his name, his actual name, caused him to look up at you, his face a wave of emotions before his face exploded into a blush. He looked away, the look on his face downright cute.

You hadn’t even realized you had sat up to look at his face more until he tried to bury his face away. You began to quietly giggle. You thought he looked absolutely precious, so flustered by you calling him his name. 

“Stop…” He softly whined out at you trying to turn his face to meet yours, though he still did. 

“How could I? You look so endearing right now Kyle.” You said, making him cover his face again, causing you to laugh again. 

“You are going to be the death of me.” He said, wrapping you into his arms before plopping down on the bed with you. 

 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, looking as you yawned softly. “Okay love, let’s get you some sleep alright?” He said softly, making you nod. 

“Goodnight Gaz.”

“Goodnight love.” 

 

Chapter 8: Morning After Teasing

Notes:

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!! I HOPE EVERYONE ENJOYED THEIR PLATE!!

Gaz stirred, the edges of sleep fading as awareness slowly crept in. His bed felt warmer than usual, a strange softness pressed against his side. He pulled this warmth against him, hearing a soft little squeak. Blinking his eyes open, he glanced down—and froze.

You were there, curled into him, your face peaceful as you slept.

His breath caught, and for a moment, his mind struggled to catch up. Your arm was draped over his chest, your hair spilling across his shoulder, your breath soft and even against his neck. He studied you closer, a soft curse falling out of his mouth as he saw the small red hickey that was a stark contrast from your pale skin. 

He didn’t move, afraid that any shift might wake you—or worse, draw attention from anyone else who might be up.

“Fuck.” he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible.

His mind raced. How the fuck did they get here?  How did he allow himself to cross this line? As the night's events crossed in his mind, he tried not to swear more. He didn’t regret it, not one bit. Though, he did regret not sending you back to your room to avoid drawing attention should anyone come knock on his—

“Hey, Gaz, you up?” It was Soap.

Gaz’s heart leapt into his throat.

Before he could respond, the door creaked open slightly.

“Oh, sorry to barge in,” Soap started, but his words trailed off as his eyes landed on the scene before him.

His gaze widened, and his lips parted in surprise. Behind him, Wolf peeked in, his expression quickly mirroring Soap’s.

“What the…?” He muttered, his eyes darting between Gaz and you.

The sound was enough to stir you. You blinked awake, stretching slightly before realizing where you were—and who was watching.

Your face turned crimson, and you bolted upright. “I-I—this isn’t what it looks like!”

Gaz sat up quickly, running a hand through his hair, his own face flushing. “It’s not—” He stopped, realizing there was no way to explain this that didn’t sound incriminating.

“Not what it looks like?” Soap said, crossing his arms, a teasing smirk forming. “You mean the two of you aren’t cuddled up in bed together? Because it definitely looks like that.”

Wolf snorted, clearly enjoying the rare opportunity at hand. “Christ Gaz. No wonder you wanted to be alone with her.”

“It’s not like that,” Gaz said firmly, though his voice cracked slightly, betraying his nerves. “She—”

“I couldn’t sleep,” You blurted, your voice defensive. “I just… needed someone, okay? It wasn’t anything weird.”

Soap raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Right. Just two grown adults ‘needing company’ in the middle of the night. Totally normal.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can we not make this a thing?”

Wolf held up his hands, grinning. “Hey, no judgment here. Just… maybe lock the door next time?”

“Wolf,” Gaz said warningly, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

Soap shook his head, a bemused smile on his face. “Alright, we’ll leave you two lovebirds alone—for now. But you might want to clear this up before word gets around. You know how Captain would feel.”

With that, Wolf and Soap disappeared back into the hallway, leaving Gaz and you in tense silence.

Gaz sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his fingers lingering on the healing mark. “Well, that’s going to be fun to explain.”

You glanced at him, your cheeks still flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

He looked at you, his expression softening. “You didn’t. Though…We definitely need to cover that.” He said, pointing at the hickey on your neck. 

You managed a small smile, though your embarrassment was still clear. “Deal.”

For a moment, you both sat there, the unspoken feelings hanging between you both. But beneath it, there was something else—something undeniable.

Gaz cleared his throat, standing and heading toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get a bandaid to cover that and get some breakfast before they decide to interrogate us again.”

You followed, a strange warmth settling in your chest despite the embarrassment. Whatever this was between them, it wasn’t simple. But somehow, it felt worth it

Chapter 9: Speaking To The Devil.

The team gathered in the hall, talking and chatting about the recent success of the materials gathered. They watched as Price walked into the room, his face immediately making the air heavy with unspoken tension. As he quietly spoke to the team, the room went quiet, their focus shifting between their food and occasional stolen glances at you. You sat at the far end of the table, your hands resting in your lap, untouched food cooling in front of you. 

Maybe it was so you would feel normal. Maybe that was why they sat down the plate of food in front of you and a cup with a bendy straw, the blood in it mediocre at best. 

Gaz watched you, his brow furrowed. You looked nervous, your usual sharpness dulled by whatever was plaguing your mind. Your crimson eyes flicked up briefly, meeting him, but you quickly looked away.

“Alright, let’s get moving,” Price said, breaking the silence as he stood and collected his tray. “We’ve got work to do.”

One by one, the team filtered out, leaving Gaz and you alone. Gaz didn’t move, his gaze fixed on you. You moved seats, resting in front of him, your fingers idly tracing patterns on the table.

“Hey,” he said gently, leaning forward.

You glanced at him, your expression guarded. “What?”

“Come with me for a minute,” he said, standing and gesturing toward the smaller lounge area down the hall.

Your eyebrows knitted together, but you rose to follow him, your steps slow and reluctant.

You entered the lounge, its worn couches and low lighting giving it an air of forced comfort. Gaz motioned for you to sit, and you complied, sinking into the corner of one couch with your arms crossed defensively.

“What’s this about?” You asked, your tone wary.

Gaz sat across from you, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He ran a hand through his hair, searching for the right words.

“I think you have noticed we have been keeping someone restrained in the other room,” he began carefully.

Your jaw tightened. “Yeah.”

Gaz sighed. “We need to use them. To get information on the others—on the facility, on what they’re planning. They know more than they’re letting on.”

Your eyes narrowed. “And what does that have to do with me?”

“Everything,” Gaz said, his voice soft but steady. “We need you to control your bloodlust in front of them.”

The words hung in the air like a challenge.

Your lips parted, but you didn’t speak immediately. Your gaze darted to the floor, your fingers gripping the edge of the couch. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” Gaz said, leaning closer. “I know it’s asking a lot. More than we should. But they are baiting you—waiting for a chance to exploit your instincts. We can’t let him win.”

Your head snapped up, crimson eyes flashing. “Him?” You asked, immediately losing your cool. “Who the hell is in that room?” 

“A scientist. From your facility.” Gaz said, his voice calm despite the edge in yours. “I know you don’t want to see them. I know.” He says, looking you in your eyes. “But fighting with no information is harder than any of us can imagine. If we don’t do this—if we don’t prove to ourselves, and to him, that you’re stronger than whatever they made you into—then they win.”

Your glare softened slightly, but your shoulders remained tense. “What if I can’t? What if I can’t win?” You whispered.

“You can,” Gaz said firmly. “You’ve already come so far. You’ve resisted before—against worse odds. This is just another step.”

“It’s not that simple,” You said, your voice cracking. “They aren’t just any scientists, Gaz. They are the ones who—-”

You cut yourself off, looking away.

Gaz’s chest tightened at the vulnerability in your voice. He stood and moved to sit beside you, his presence steady and grounding.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know what they did to you. And I hate them for it. But that’s exactly why you need to do this. Not for us. Not even for the mission. For you.”

You turned to him, your eyes shimmering with unspoken pain.

“I’m not strong enough,” you said.

“Yes, you are,” Gaz replied, his voice unwavering. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. And we’ll be right there with you. You’re not doing this alone.”

For a long moment, they sat in silence. Then you exhaled shakily, nodding once.

“Okay,” you said softly. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all we need,” Gaz said, offering you a small, reassuring smile. 

You looked away, your jaw tightening as you steeled yourself. You weren't sure you believed him, but if the team believed in you, maybe—just maybe—you could believe in yourself.

 

————————————————————————

 

The team stood in a tight circle, the tension in the air almost palpable. Your eyes darted between their faces, your stomach churning. You knew what was coming, and no amount of preparation could truly steel you for the task ahead.

Gaz stood to your right, his presence grounding but filled with silent concern. Soap and Wolf flanked the doorway, their usual easy banter replaced with grim determination. Price stood at the table and Ghost was inside of the interrogation room. On the table before them lay a file—your file—detailing every gruesome experiment and trial you had endured at the hands of the scientists.

Soap began, his voice uncharacteristically serious, “We have to know you can control it. Out there, in the real world, you’ll face people who want to exploit you, hurt you. People who may deserve your anger.”

His gaze flickered to Gaz for support, but his jaw was tight, his arms crossed.

“We’re not saying this is fair,” Wolf added, his voice softer. “But if we’re going to expose that facility and rescue the others, we need to trust that you won’t lose control when it matters most.”

“I get it,” You said, your voice low but steady. “What’s the plan?”

Soap hesitated before nodding toward the adjoining room. “We brought in one of them. He’s locked up and restrained. You’re not allowed to hurt him, no matter what he says or does. All you have to do is stand in front of him and prove you’re stronger than the bloodlust.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. The thought of facing one of them—one of the people who had strapped you to a table, injected you with chemicals, and turned you into this—made your blood boil. But you swallowed hard, your fear and anger swirling together.

“I’ll do it,” You said finally.

Gaz stepped closer, his voice low but firm. “You don’t have to do this. We can figure out another way. I know I was pressuring you and everything—”

You cut him off, looking up at him, your eyes meeting his warm, brown ones. “I do have to do this. For me. For the others who didn’t make it out.”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment before you nodded, stepping aside to let you pass.

The room was cold, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow over the single chair in the center. The scientist sat there, his wrists and ankles bound to the metal frame, his white lab coat stained and crumpled.

You recognized him immediately. Dr. Harding.

He had been one of the overseers, the man who coldly dictated her fate without so much as a flicker of emotion. Your throat tightened as memories flooded back—his voice echoing through the sterile room, his indifferent gaze as you begged for mercy.

Now, he was the one trapped.

Harding lifted his head as the door opened, his eyes narrowing when he saw you. A flicker of fear crossed his face before it was replaced with something sharper.

“Well, well,” he sneered, his voice cutting through the silence. “Look at you. The little experiment that survived. How does it feel, knowing you’re just a weapon waiting to be unleashed?”

Your jaw tightened, but you didn’t respond. You stepped forward, keeping your distance, your fists trembling at your sides.

“Ah, I see,” Harding continued, his tone mocking. “They’re testing you, aren’t they? Seeing if you can play nice with the humans. But we both know what you really are. A monster. A predator.”

Your breathing quickened, the scent of his blood reaching your heightened senses. It was intoxicating, and you hated how your body responded, her fangs aching to descend.

Behind the glass wall, the team watched silently. Gaz stood at the forefront, his hands gripping the edge of the console, his knuckles white.

“Come on,” Soap muttered under his breath. “You’ve got this.”

Inside the room, Harding smirked. “You can feel it, can’t you? That hunger. It doesn’t matter how much they train you—you’ll always want to feed. You’ll always be what we made you.”

Your vision blurred, your instincts warring with your willpower. You took a deep breath, focusing on the team’s voices in your mind. You’re not a monster. You’re more than what they did to you.

“Say something!” Harding snapped, his voice rising. “Admit it! You’re nothing without us. Without me.”

He took a deep breath, realizing his anger did nothing to your feelings. Instead, he smirked. “You’ve grown into quite the spectacle,” Harding sneered, his voice calm despite his restraints. “Tell me, do they really believe they’ve tamed you? That you’re anything more than a predator with a leash?”

You clenched your fists at your sides, your nails digging into your palms. “You don’t get to talk about me like that. Not anymore.”

Harding chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, but you are the leash. You’ve allowed these people to cage you, to parade you around like some trained dog. And for what? Approval? Affection?” His voice sharpened. “Do you honestly think they’ll ever see you as one of them?”

Behind the glass, Wolf’s jaw tightened as he watched. “Come on. Don’t let him get to you,” he muttered under his breath.

“Watch her hands,” Soap said, his voice low with concern. “She’s getting too close.”

Price crossed his arms. “I don’t blame her. If I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t just stand there.”

“She has to stand there,” Gaz snapped. “She has to prove she can handle this, or they’ll never trust her in the field.”

Inside the room, you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus. As he shifted more, he rubbed his skin raw, his blood filled the air, its scent intoxicating.

Harding tilted his head, studying you. “Ah, but maybe it’s not about them. Maybe it’s about him.”

Your chest tightened. “What are you talking about?”

“You think I didn’t notice the way you look at him? Your precious Elias?” Harding leaned forward as far as his restraints allowed, his smile wicked. “Oh yes, I remember him. Experiment 26B. One of our earliest failures. Weak. Useless. Barely survived the first phase of the program. And yet, here you are, clinging to him like he’s your salvation. All because he thought of you as a sister.”

Your breath hitched. “Don’t you dare talk about him.”

Behind the glass, Gaz stiffened. “What the hell is he doing?”

“He’s trying to provoke her,” Soap said, his eyes narrowing.

“And it’s working,” Wolf muttered.

Inside the room, Harding continued, his voice taunting. “Did he ever tell you what we did to him? The pain we put him through? How he begged us to stop? No, I suppose not. He wouldn’t want you to see him for what he really is—just another broken experiment, just like you.”

“Shut up,” You hissed, your voice trembling.

“And now you think you can protect him? That you’re strong enough to keep him safe?” Harding laughed, the sound cold and cruel. “You’re nothing. You couldn’t save yourself, and you won’t save him.”

Your vision blurred, your fangs aching as the bloodlust surged within you. The memories of the facility crashed over you: the screams, the pain, the helplessness.

The team’s voices echoed in your mind again. “You’re stronger than what they did to you.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Gaz said aloud, his voice urgent even though you couldn’t hear him. “He’s lying.”

But at that moment, Harding’s smirk was the only thing you could see. The only thing you could feel was the overwhelming hunger, the rage bubbling to the surface.

“I said, shut up!” You screamed, lunging forward.

“No!” Ghost shouted, rushing towards you.

You froze, your hand inches from Harding’s throat.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your claws extended, your fangs bared. Harding’s smirk faltered for the first time, a flicker of fear crossing his face.

Ghost softly called your name, his voice steady now. “This isn’t you. You’re not what he says you are. Look at me.”

Your eyes darted to his face. The warmth in his gaze—the quiet strength—cut through the haze in your mind.

“You’re more than this,” Ghost said, his voice soft but firm. “You’ve already won. You don’t need to prove anything to him.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you stepped back, your claws retracting. You turned away from Harding, your shoulders trembling.

Behind the glass, Soap exhaled in relief. “She did it.”

Wolf let out a low whistle. “Barely.”

Ghost repeated your name gently, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You turned to him, your eyes filled with anguish. “I almost lost control,” you whispered.

“But you didn’t,” he said, his voice steady. “You stopped yourself. That’s what matters.”

Your gaze dropped to the floor. “What if I can’t do it next time?”

“You will,” Ghost said firmly. “Because you’re not alone in this. We’ll face it together.”

You nodded slowly, the tension in your body easing as you leaned into him.

From his chair, Harding sneered. “Touching. Truly.”

Ghost’s glare snapped to him, his usual calm replaced with cold fury. “You’re lucky. If it was up to me, we would’ve burned you till you gave us answers.”

Harding’s smirk faltered again as Ghost led you out of the room, leaving the scientist alone with his fear.

Outside, the team was waiting, their faces a mix of relief and pride.

“You did good, kid,” Price said, clapping you on the back. “Better than I would’ve.”

Wolf nodded. “Yeah. And don’t worry about Harding. He’s all talk.”

“I’m more surprised the giant was actually friendly.” Soap said, gaining an eye roll from Ghost. 

You managed a small smile, your heart still racing. “Thanks, guys.”

But it was the quiet reassurance that truly grounded you. For the first time in a long time, you believed you could do this.

And you wouldn’t have to do it alone.

Chapter 10: Escape.

The night was still, the safehouse enveloped in a thick veil of silence. Dr. Harding sat in his room, his hands trembling slightly as he stared at the restraints that bound his wrists and ankles. He had been biding his time for days, waiting for the moment when the team guarding him would let their guard down. Tonight was his chance.

The restraints were secure but not unbreakable. Harding had spent the last several nights using the sharp edge of a hidden piece of metal—pried loose from his cot—to weaken the straps. Each night, he worked while listening to the muffled voices of the team in the common room, careful not to make a sound. Now, after hours of painstaking effort, he felt the final fibers give way under the pressure of his struggles.

With his wrists freed, he quickly moved to unbind his ankles, glancing at the door every few seconds. The team was always cautious, but even they needed rest. He had overheard you and Ghost talking earlier about how exhausted they all were. 

Exhaustion bred carelessness.

Harding crept toward the door, opening it just a crack. The hallway beyond was dark, lit only by the dim glow of a security lamp at the far end. He stepped into the corridor, barefoot and silent, and began making his way toward the exit. He had memorized the guard rotations, the patrols, and the quirks of his captors. If he could make it to the edge of the safehouse’s perimeter undetected, he’d have a chance.

The facility where he’d worked for years was no longer an option—he knew that much. Without his credentials or equipment, returning there would be suicide. The facility’s automated security systems would see him as an intruder, and his own colleagues would likely kill him on sight for losing you.

But Harding wasn’t without options. There were people out there who owed him favors, people who wouldn’t ask questions if he came calling. He just needed to find a way to contact them.

As he slipped out of the safehouse, the cold night air hit him like a slap. He paused, taking a moment to orient himself in the darkness. The safehouse was isolated, surrounded by dense forest, but Harding knew the area well. A few miles east, there was a small abandoned radio tower. With some luck, its old equipment might still function, just enough to get a message out.

He moved quickly but carefully, keeping to the shadows. His heart pounded in his chest, the weight of his situation pressing down on him. He knew he was being hunted—by the team that had captured him, by you, and possibly by others who wanted him silenced for what he knew. He immediately looked for mud. 

He cursed to heavens for your senses as he covered himself in the disgusting smell and ran. He had to hide his trail.

By the time he reached the tower, his muscles ached, and his breath came in shallow gasps. The structure loomed over him, rusted and decrepit, but still standing. He slipped inside, his movements deliberate as he searched for the control room.

The equipment was ancient, covered in dust and cobwebs, but it was intact. Harding’s hands moved with practiced efficiency, powering up the console and testing the radio. Static filled the air, and for a moment, he feared the system was too degraded to work. But then, a faint signal crackled through.

Harding leaned in, his voice low and steady. “This is Dr. Harding. If anyone hears these messages, I know where she is. And how to get to her.” 

There was no response, just the hiss of static. He knew that would be the case. It would take time before someone heard his messages. Though it would keep repeating on the line until someone responded. Harding’s pulse quickened. He couldn’t afford for this to fail. To lose. 

Then, he grabbed the radio and climbed down, leaving the tower and hiding. He knew he would need to hide his scent from you. How he would need to keep himself away. As he saw a small abandoned cottage, relief washed over him, though he kept his emotions in check. He would be able to wash and cleanse his scent away. Especially from you. 

Harding sat back, in the creaky maragohny chair, exhaling slowly. It had been twenty minutes. All he had to do was stay hidden until a response came through. But as he leaned back against the wall, a faint sound reached his ears—a rustling from the trees outside.

He froze, his mind racing. Had he been followed?

He peeked outside the dust covered window, letting out a sigh as he saw the deer skitter by. 

All he needed to do. All he would have to do is survive.

Chapter 11: Anger.

The safehouse was in chaos. Morning light streamed through the windows, but its warmth did nothing to dispel the icy anger spreading through the team. Price stood at the center of the common room, his face grim, his jaw set as he looked around at the others.

“Someone explain to me,” he said, voice low but razor-sharp, “how in the bloody hell Harding managed to get out.”

Soap leaned against the wall, his arms crossed tightly, frustration etched across his face. “We’ve been keeping eyes on him round the clock. How he slipped out is beyond me. But when I get my hands on him…” His voice trailed off, the implied threat hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

Gaz was pacing back and forth, one hand gripping the back of his neck. “We underestimated him. Again. Damn it, we should’ve known he’d been planning something.” He stopped mid-step, turning to Ghost. “Weren’t you on watch last night?”

Ghost’s eyes narrowed, his body still except for his fingers tapping lightly on his arm. “I was,” he replied curtly. “He was secure when I checked. Either he’s bloody Houdini, or someone missed something earlier in the day.”

You sat in a corner of the room, your hands clasped tightly in your lap. You hadn’t spoken since the discovery, but your  eyes glowed faintly, betraying the storm of emotions swirling inside you. Guilt. Rage. Betrayal. Harding had been under your nose all this time, and now he was loose.

You should’ve fucking bled him dry when you had the chance.

“You all need to calm down,” Price said, his voice cutting through the rising tension. “Blame’s not going to get us anywhere. Harding’s slippery, and we knew that going in. What matters now is finding him before he does any real damage.”

Soap scoffed, shoving off the wall. “And what about what he might’ve already done? What if he’s made contact with someone? What if—”

“Enough!” Price barked, silencing him. He rubbed his temple, taking a steadying breath before continuing. “We need intel.” He turned to you, his tone softer but still firm. “Did you notice anything unusual? Anything at all?”

You looked up, guilt flashing across your face. “I—no. I didn’t.” Your voice was quiet, almost ashamed. “I was in my room… coloring. I didn’t hear anything until this morning.”

Soap let out a frustrated groan, muttering under his breath as he ran a hand through his hair. “So we’re back to square one.” His anger however, didn’t stop him from making sure to let you know it wasn’t your fault. 

“No,” Ghost said, his voice calm and measured. “Not square one. We know he’s desperate, and desperate men make mistakes. He’s got no resources, no weapons, no backup. Wherever he’s going, he’ll need to make contact with someone.”

Gaz nodded, catching onto Ghost’s line of thought. “If we can figure out who he might be reaching out to, we can cut him off. But it’s a race now. He’s slippery, but he’s not invincible.”

Price nodded, his expression hardening. “Agreed. We’ll get a search grid set up. Ghost, Soap, I want you combing through any leads we have on Harding’s past contacts. Gaz, you’re with me—Laswell needs to know what’s happened.”

“And me?” Your voice cut through the room, drawing all eyes to you.

“You stay here,” Price said firmly. “You’re too valuable to risk, and if Harding’s on the run, there’s a chance he’s still after you. We can’t have you out in the open.”

Your hands balled into fists, your now crimson eyes flashing dangerously. “I’m not some helpless liability, Price. I can help.”

“You can help by staying put,” Price snapped. “This isn’t up for debate. We’ll handle Harding.”

You opened your mouth to argue but stopped when you saw the finality in his expression. You sank back into your chair, anger simmering beneath the surface.

As the team dispersed to their respective tasks, the tension lingered in the air. Soap muttered under his breath as he left, Ghost’s movements were sharper than usual, and Gaz’s frustration was written all over his face.

Price lingered in the room, watching you for a moment before sighing. “We’ll get him,” he said quietly, more to himself than to you.

But as he walked out, you sat alone, your nails digging into your palms as anger bubbled within you. He had escaped, and worse, he had humiliated you and the team.

You vowed silently that the next time you saw him, you wouldn’t hesitate. Not this time.

Chapter 12: Flashbacks.

Notes:

My back aches

 

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

 

The Task Force 141 briefing room was dimly lit, the glow of a projector casting shadows on the walls. Captain John Price leaned against the table, a cigar perched between his fingers, its smoke curling lazily toward the ceiling. Across from him, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick sat with his arms folded, his brow furrowed as he read over the dossier in front of him.

At the back of the room, Simon “Ghost” Riley stood with his arms crossed, his skull-patterned balaclava obscuring his expression as always. Johnny “Soap” MacTavish paced near the projector, his boots thudding softly against the floor as he muttered under his breath.

“Bloody hell,” Soap said, stopping mid-stride to glare at the screen. “This doesn’t make a lick of sense. We’re supposed to babysit her? A bloody experiment?”

Gaz shook his head, looking up at Price. “Why us, Captain? What’s Shepherd playing at? This doesn’t feel like our kind of mission.”

Price took a long drag on his cigar, exhaling slowly before speaking. “Because we’re the best, lads. And Shepherd knows it. If this goes sideways—and it bloody well might—we’re the ones who’ll keep it from blowing up in everyone’s faces.”

Ghost’s voice cut through the room, low and gravelly. “We’re not being told everything.”

Price nodded grimly. “Aye. Shepherd’s keeping his cards close to his chest, as usual. But we’ve got orders, and we’ll follow them. For now.”

Soap threw his hands up in frustration. “Follow them? With all due respect, Captain, this stinks to high heaven. Look at this!” He jabbed a finger at the image of Lila on the screen. Her crimson eyes glowed faintly, even in the still photograph, a chilling reminder of her otherworldly nature. “This isn’t a person we’re dealing with—it’s a bloody vampire!”

Gaz frowned. “She’s still a person, Johnny. From what the file says, she didn’t choose this. She was made into… whatever she is.”

“Doesn’t change the fact she could tear our throats out if she loses control,” Soap countered. “I’ve read the reports. She’s dangerous.”

“She’s also their key to taking down that facility,” Price said firmly, silencing the room. “Like it or not, lads, we’re her handlers now. Our job is to make sure she stays on task, doesn’t lose control, and doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. Shepherd’s orders.”

Ghost tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed on Price. “And you trust Shepherd?”

Price’s jaw tightened. “I trust him to have his own agenda. But until we’ve got proof he’s setting us up, we play along. Eyes open, heads on a swivel. We do what we do best.”

Soap grumbled but fell silent, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

Gaz leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “What’s the plan, then? How do we approach her?”

Price stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray. “Carefully. She’s not just some experiment gone wrong. She’s been through hell, and from the looks of it, she’s still trying to hold onto her humanity. We treat her like one of our own—until she gives us a reason not to.”

Soap let out a dry laugh. “Treat her like one of our own? Easy for you to say, Cap. She’s not going to rip your head off if she gets peckish.”

Price shot him a warning look. “Enough, Johnny. We’re soldiers. We adapt. And we don’t leave anyone behind. Not even her.”

Ghost spoke up again, his voice like a cold wind. “What about Shepherd’s angle? If this is a trap, we need to be ready to spring it.”

Price nodded, his expression grim. “We will be. Trust me, lads—if Shepherd’s playing us, he’ll regret it. But for now, we focus on the mission. We’ve got a girl to keep alive, a facility to bring down, and a hell of a mess to clean up.”

The room fell silent as the weight of the task ahead settled over them. Soap sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But if she so much as looks at me funny, I’m not taking chances.”

Gaz smirked faintly. “You’ll be fine, Johnny. Just don’t make her angry.”

Soap shot him a glare but said nothing more.

Price straightened, looking at each of them in turn. “Get your gear. We’re wheels up in an hour. Let’s get to work.”

As the team filed out, Ghost lingered for a moment, his gaze lingering on Lila’s image.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath. “This one’s gonna get messy.”

And with that, he turned and followed the others, the shadows of doubt trailing close behind.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Task Force 141 team stepped into the secure briefing room, their presence a sharp contrast to the cold, clinical atmosphere of the facility. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting a harsh glow on the sterile walls. You stood at the far end of the room, your crimson eyes flickering toward the door as they entered.

Your presence was striking—tall, with an unnatural grace and an edge of restrained power that made you feel like a coiled spring ready to snap. Though your demeanor was quiet, almost subdued, there was a tension in the way your hands gripped the back of the chair in front of you.

Price led the way, his expression neutral but assessing as he sized you up. Behind him, Soap and Ghost flanked the doorway, their movements careful, deliberate. Last was Gaz, who hesitated for only a fraction of a second before stepping inside.

Your gaze immediately locked onto him.

Gaz felt it like a weight pressing on his chest. Your crimson eyes weren’t just looking at him—they were looking through him, peeling away every layer of armor he carried. There was something unnerving about it, but at the same time, something…curious. It wasn’t hunger or malice in your gaze, but something deeper, almost searching.  

Price cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Hello,” he said, his voice calm but commanding. “I’m Captain Price. This is my team. You’ve already been briefed about us, I’m sure.”

Your gaze flickered briefly to Price, then back to Gaz. Your lips parted slightly, as though you wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Soap raised an eyebrow, glancing between them. “Well, this is cozy,” he muttered under his breath.

Ghost shot him a look, silencing any further comments.

Gaz forced himself to meet your gaze, his expression steady despite the unease creeping up his spine. “(Y/n), right?” he asked, his voice even.

You nodded slowly, your grip on the chair tightening before you released it and straightened. “Yes,” you said, your voice soft but clear. “And you’re…Gaz.”

Gaz blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected you to know his name, let alone address him so directly. “That’s right,” he said cautiously. “You’ve done your homework.”

Your lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “They told me about you. About all of you.” Your gaze lingered on him for a moment longer before you turned your attention back to the group. “You’re here to… keep me in line, I suppose?”

Price stepped forward, his tone firm but not unkind. “We’re here to make sure you’ve got the support you need to finish this mission—and to make sure things don’t go sideways along the way.”

Your jaw tightened, and your gaze dropped to the floor. “Support,” you murmured, the word tasting bitter on your tongue.

Gaz found himself stepping forward before he could stop himself. “Hey,” he said gently. “We’re not here to make this harder on you. We’re just here to help. That’s all.”

You looked up at him, your crimson eyes locking onto his once more. For a moment, the tension in your shoulders eased, and your expression softened. “Help,” you repeated, your voice quieter this time.

Soap let out a low whistle, breaking the moment. “Well, it looks like Gaz already made a friend.”

“Shut it, Soap,” Gaz said, though his tone lacked the usual bite.

Price stepped in, cutting off any further banter. “We’ve got work to do. You're part of this team now, whether you like it or not. If we’re going to pull this off, we need to trust each other. That goes both ways.”

Your gaze swept over the team, lingering briefly on Ghost’s mask and Soap’s wary stance before settling back on Gaz. “I’ll try,” you said quietly.

“Good enough,” Price replied, nodding. “Let’s get moving.”

As the team filed out of the room, You hesitated for a moment before following, your steps light and almost hesitant.

Gaz fell into step beside you, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “You’ll get used to us,” he said with a faint smile. “We’re not so bad once you get to know us.”

You tilted your head, studying him with that same searching gaze. “You’re different,” you said softly.

Gaz blinked. “Different how?”

Your lips parted as though you wanted to explain, but you shook your head instead. “Never mind.”

He frowned but didn’t press you, sensing it was better to let you speak on your own terms.

Behind them, Soap exchanged a look with Ghost, his expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. “I’m telling you, mate,” he muttered under his breath. “Kyle’s got his work cut out for him.”

Ghost didn’t reply, but the slight tilt of his head suggested he agreed.

Chapter 13: Stargazing. ☆

Why do I have to be the one to stay!” Soap complained, watching as Price rolled his eyes. 

“You don’t pay attention in these briefings.”

“They’re borin’! That doesn’t mean I wanna stay here! She scares me!”

“So what. You have your orders, follow them.”

Soap huffed, remembering the earlier conversation with his captain. He wasn’t upset at the choice really. He just really didn’t want to stay with you. No judgement, but who would want to stay with a bloodlusting vampire? 

———————————————————————-

The facility’s common room was quieter than usual, with the rest of Task Force 141 occupied in a briefing with Laswell. The absence of Price, Gaz, and Ghost left an uneasy stillness in the air, broken only by the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Soap  leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the empty space as if expecting trouble.

You sat nearby, perched on the edge of a small couch, your eyes staring out the reinforced window into the night. The moonlight bathed the room in a silvery glow, softening its stark, sterile edges.

Soap huffed quietly, shaking his head. He’d never been comfortable in silence, and being alone with you only made it worse. Despite your attempts to blend in with the team, you still unnerved him. It wasn’t just your bloodlust or your enhanced abilities—it was the quiet intensity about you, the way your emotions seemed to simmer just beneath the surface.

“Soap,” You said softly, your voice breaking through his thoughts.

He turned his head, caught off guard by the tentative note in your voice. “Aye? Somethin’ on your mind, lass?”

You glanced at him, and for the first time since he’d met you, there was no tension in your gaze—just a quiet, vulnerable happiness. Your lips were curled into a faint smile as you gestured toward the window. “The stars,” you said simply.

Soap blinked, his arms uncrossing as he followed your gaze. The stars were faint through the reinforced glass, but they were there, scattered like silver dust across the night sky. He frowned slightly, unsure where you were going with this.

“What about ’em?” He asked, his tone still gruff.

You turned to look at him fully, your eyes brighter in the moonlight. “When I was… back there,” you began, your voice hesitant, “I couldn’t see them. The cell had no windows. Just walls and darkness.”

Soap shifted uncomfortably, the weight of your words settling over him. He hadn’t thought much about what your life must have been like before they’d found you, but the way you said it—the quiet pain in your voice—made it impossible to ignore.

“I used to dream about them,” You continued, your smile growing a little brighter. “Even when everything felt hopeless, I imagined I could see the stars. It gave me something to hold onto.”

Soap’s hard demeanor faltered as he looked at you. You weren't just the experiment he’d read about in the dossier. You weren't the unpredictable threat he’d been so wary of. At this moment, you were just a girl—scarred, yes, but still clinging to hope.

“They’re somethin’ else, aren’t they?” he said, his voice softer now. “Stars. Make ya feel small but in a good way, y’know?”

You nodded, your gaze drifting back to the window. “They make me feel… free. Like there’s more out there than just this. More than what they made me.”

Soap’s throat tightened, and he wasn’t sure why. He cleared it awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, you’ve got a better view now, don’t ya? Plenty o’ stars to go around.”

You turned to him again, your smile widening just enough to catch him off guard. “Thank you,” you said quietly.

He frowned, confused. “For what?”

“For not treating me like… like something to be afraid of,” you said. “I know I’m different, and I know I make people uncomfortable. But you’re here. You’re listening. That means more than you know.”

Soap shifted on his feet, his usual bravado deserting him. “Ach, don’t read too much into it, lass,” he muttered, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness. “I’m just doin’ my job.”

Your expression didn’t falter, and for a moment, the silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable.

“You should look at them more often,” you said, your voice lighter now. “The stars, I mean. They’re… calming. Your eyes also look nice in them.”

Soap chuckled softly, finally letting himself relax. “Maybe I will. If I’m not too busy keepin’ you outta trouble.”

You laughed softly, the sound genuine and unguarded. It was a small moment, but it was enough to chip away at the walls Soap had built around himself.

As the minutes passed, they stood side by side, gazing at the stars. For the first time, Soap didn’t feel uneasy in your presence. And for the first time, you felt truly seen.

Neither of them said it out loud, but in that quiet moment, an unspoken understanding began to form—a tentative bond that neither of them had expected but both knew they needed.

————————————————————————-

Soap didn’t know how it happened. One moment, he was leaning against the window, half-listening to you talk about the stars; the next, you had shifted the conversation to yourself.

He wasn’t sure if you were doing it on purpose—testing him to see how far you could go before he got uncomfortable. Or maybe you just needed someone to talk to, someone to hear your story without judgment. Whatever the case, Soap found himself sitting on the edge of the couch next to you, his arms resting on his knees, quietly listening.

“I wasn’t always… this,” you began, your voice soft and hesitant. Your eyes flickered away from the stars, turning inward as though you were sifting through memories. “I had a life before the experiments. It feels like it was someone else’s life now, but… it was mine.”

Soap didn’t speak, didn’t interrupt. He could hear the rawness in your voice, the way the words seemed to catch in your throat. He wasn’t good at this kind of thing—listening without teasing, being serious—but something about your vulnerability kept him rooted in place.

“I grew up in a small town,” you continued, your voice distant. “Not much to do there. Just fields and trees and the same people day after day. It was… simple. Quiet.” You smiled faintly. “I hated it back then. Thought it was boring. But now… I’d give anything to go back.”

Soap’s throat tightened, and he shifted slightly, unsure what to say. He didn’t need to, though. You kept going, the words spilling out as if you couldn’t stop them.

“My dad was a mechanic,” you said. “Used to let me help him in the garage. I didn’t know a thing about cars, but he’d always let me hold the tools, pretending I was doing something important.” Your smile grew a little wider, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “He said I’d take over the shop someday. Said I was smarter than him, that I’d make it better than he ever could.”

Soap glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You weren't looking at him—your gaze was distant, your hands fidgeting in your lap.

“And your mum?” he asked softly, surprising even himself with the question.

Your smile faltered, and for a moment, he regretted asking.

“She died when I was little,” you said quietly. “I don’t remember her much. Just… little things. Her laugh, the way she smelled like vanilla. Dad said she was the kindest person he’d ever met.” You paused, your voice dropping to a whisper. “I wish I’d gotten to know her better.”

Soap swallowed hard, his chest tightening at the weight of your words. He wasn’t good at this—comforting people, saying the right thing—but he felt like he needed to say something.

“Sounds like your dad did a good job,” he said gently. “Raisin’ you on his own like that. Bet he was proud of you.”

You nodded, your gaze dropping to your hands. “He was. But… I didn’t get to tell him how much I appreciated him. Not before they took me.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air.

Soap shifted again, his knee bumping against yours. “That wasn’t your fault,” he said firmly. “What happened to you—that was on them. Not you.”

You looked up at him, eyes shimmering with unspoken emotion. For a moment, you seemed like you were going to argue, but then you let out a soft sigh and nodded.

“Thanks,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded back, unsure what else to say.

You leaned back against the couch, your gaze returning to the stars. “I used to dream about getting out of that town,” you said after a moment. “But I never imagined it would be like this. I wanted adventure, not… this.”

Soap chuckled softly, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “Be careful what you wish for, aye?”

You smiled faintly, your eyelids beginning to droop. “Yeah. Guess so.”

Your voice grew softer, your words slowing as exhaustion began to take over. “Thanks for listening, Soap. It… it means a lot.”

He glanced down at you, realizing that you were leaning against him now, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. He stiffened for a moment, unsure what to do, but then he relaxed, letting you stay.

“Anytime, lass,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the lights.

Within minutes, You were asleep, your breathing steady and peaceful. Soap stayed where he was, staring out at the stars and wondering how they’d come to this—how he’d gone from wary soldier to reluctant confidant.

As he sat there, your weight against his shoulder, he realized something he wouldn’t admit to anyone else: he didn’t mind you being there. Not one bit.

Chapter 14: Sleep Pals.

The quiet murmur of conversation followed the team as they returned from their briefing. Captain Price led the group, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as always. Ghost trailed behind him, his mask as unreadable as ever, while Gaz walked beside him, hands shoved into his pockets.

They entered the common room, their voices dying down almost immediately as they took in the scene before them.

Near the large window, Soap sat slumped on the couch, his head tilted to the side as he slept. Beside him, you rested against his shoulder, your smaller frame tucked comfortably into his side. Your eyes were closed, your face peaceful for the first time in what felt like days. The silver light from the stars bathed the pair, making the moment look almost… serene.

Gaz’s mouth twitched into a grin, his eyebrows raising as he glanced between the two. “Would you look at that?” he whispered, the teasing tone in his voice unmistakable. “The big tough Scot swore up and down he wouldn’t get close to her. ‘She’s trouble,’ he said. ‘Keep your distance,’ he said.”

Price smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway. “Well, I’ll be damned. Guess she’s got more of an effect on him than he’d like to admit.”

Ghost remained silent, though his gaze lingered on Soap and you for a moment longer than necessary.

Gaz stepped forward, his grin widening. “You know what this means, yeah?” he whispered over his shoulder. “We’re never gonna let him live this down.”

Price chuckled softly. “Not in a million years.”

Moving carefully, Gaz crouched beside you, his expression softening slightly as he studied your sleeping face. You looked so young, so vulnerable—nothing like the deadly force they’d been briefed about. He wanted to hold you and keep  you safe.

The entire team did. 

“Right, then,” he murmured, sliding one arm under your legs and the other around your back. “Let’s get you to bed, love. Don’t want you wakin’ up with a crick in your neck.”

With surprising ease, he lifted you into his arms, cradling you close as you stirred slightly but didn’t wake.

Price turned to Ghost, jerking his chin toward Soap. “Think you can manage him?”

Ghost didn’t answer, but he stepped forward, his broad frame looming over the sleeping Scotsman. With a quiet sigh, he bent down and hooked one arm under Soap’s knees and the other around his back.

Soap groaned softly as he was lifted, his head lolling against Ghost’s shoulder. “What… what’s happenin’?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

“You fell asleep, mate,” Ghost said simply, his voice low but not unkind.

Soap blinked blearily, his brain struggling to catch up. He looked at the empty couch, immediately saying your name. 

“She’s fine,” Gaz called over his shoulder, already heading down the hall with you. “I’ve got her.”

Soap seemed to relax at that, his head dropping back against Ghost’s shoulder. “Right… cheers, mate.”

Ghost carried him with surprising ease, his movements steady and deliberate as he followed Gaz down the hallway.

Once they reached your room, Gaz nudged the door open with his foot and stepped inside, laying you gently on the small bed. He pulled the blanket up to your chin, his hand lingering for just a moment as he adjusted it.

“Sleep tight,” he murmured, his tone softer than usual as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“What are we going to do with her? Got our heads in a spin doesn’t she?” 

He turned to find Ghost watching him from the doorway, Soap still cradled in his arms like an oversized child.

Gaz let out a small chuckle. “Yeah, she does.” He nodded towards Soap. “You’ve got the patience of a saint, mate. If I were you, I’d have dropped him by now.”

Ghost didn’t reply, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he turned and carried Soap to his own room.

As the two men settled their charges and regrouped in the common area, Price was already there, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall.

“Well?” he asked, his tone light but knowing. “What do we make of that?”

Gaz shrugged, his grin still lingering. “I’d say it’s a sign. Not every day you see Soap letting someone get close, let alone fall asleep on him.”

Ghost nodded, his gaze distant. “She’s good for him. And maybe… he’s good for her.”

Price’s expression grew thoughtful. “Let’s hope so. They’re both gonna need it before this mission’s through.”

The three men fell silent, the weight of their shared responsibility settling over them. But despite the uncertainty of what lay ahead, there was a quiet understanding between them—an unspoken agreement to protect not just Lila, but each other.

And maybe, just maybe, they’d make it through this together.

Chapter 15: Another Taste.

The air in the room was thick with tension. The team had been rotating through shifts, taking turns to watch over you as they worked to help you control the uncontrollable. It was a delicate balance—keeping you calm, keeping you grounded, all while still guarding against the fear of your hunger.

Now, it was Ghost’s turn.

He had watched the others interact with you over the past few days—Price with his firm but compassionate approach, Soap with his unspoken understanding, and Gaz, bright and loving despite the constant presence of danger. But now, it was his turn to face the one thing none of them had truly anticipated: You during the worst of your bloodlust.

The room was dim, the only light coming from a small lamp in the corner. You sat on the edge of the bed, your body stiff, your breathing shallow as you stared at the floor, your hands gripping the fabric of your pants tightly. Ghost stood by the door, his arms crossed, watching you. He had seen the signs—your pupils were blown wide, your scent changed, and there was an energy in the room that shifted as if the very air around them thickened.

He could feel the tension between them, the unsaid words hanging in the silence. Ghost knew the danger of what was happening, but he also understood that you were fighting with everything you had to stay in control.

“Hey,” Ghost said quietly, his voice low but steady, careful not to agitate you further. “How are you holding up?”

You didn’t answer immediately, and when you did, your voice was strained, barely above a whisper. “I’m not… fine.” Your head dropped, eyes closing for a moment, your teeth gritted together. “I need something… something I can’t have.”

Ghost’s gaze hardened, but he kept his tone calm, even. “You’ve been through worse. You can control this.”

You looked up at him sharply, eyes now glowing an almost unnatural shade of red, your breathing shallow. The hunger was strong—he could see it in the way you clenched your fists, the slight tremor in your hands. He could smell it, too—blood, primal and raw, as if it were calling to you, coaxing you into submission.

“You don’t get it,” Your voice cracked, barely audible. “You don’t understand what it feels like…”

“I do,” Ghost said, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “I know what it’s like to fight a battle you can’t win, to have something inside of you that you can’t control. But you’re stronger than this. You’ve proven that.”

Your eyes flickered with doubt, but there was a subtle shift in your posture—slightly less rigid, just enough to show that, despite your inner turmoil, you were trying to listen, trying to fight back. Ghost took a slow, measured step forward, his movements careful, cautious.

“Take a breath,” he said gently. “Focus. You can’t let it take you. Not now.”

But as he approached, your breath hitched, and your gaze zeroed in on him, narrowing. Ghost’s heart pounded in his chest, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He knew what was happening—the hunger was so close to the surface, and you were on the edge. His presence, his scent—everything about him was now too tempting.

“I—” You stopped yourself mid-sentence, your pupils flickering with dark hunger. your body tensed like a spring wound too tight. “I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Ghost didn’t move. “You won’t hurt me.”

But inside, his instincts were screaming at him to back away, to protect himself. To pull out the knife that he kept on the holster on his thigh. He wasn’t naive—he knew how close you were to losing control, and he knew that if you attacked, he would have no way of stopping you.

And then, it happened.

Your breath came faster, more ragged, and the shift in your eyes was unmistakable—your pupils constricted until they were nothing but thin slits, your gaze locked on him with an intensity that made his pulse race. Your fangs emerged, sharp and gleaming, as you took a slow, deliberate step forward.

It was like a switch had flipped. Ghost could hear your heart pounding faster, could feel the dangerous energy building in the room as you pushed yourself closer to the edge. you looked at him as if he was the only thing in the room—and, in that moment, he might as well have been.

Your name was said, his voice stern but carrying a hint of desperation now. “Don’t do this. You don’t have to give in. Control it.”

Your chest rose and fell with each breath, your body tense as if fighting your own nature. You reached out, almost instinctively, your fingers brushing against his arm, your touch hot and trembling. Ghost remained perfectly still, knowing that even the smallest movement could trigger you.

“Please…” Your voice cracked as you looked up at him, your eyes a mixture of pleading and hunger. “I can’t stop it, Ghost. It’s too much.”

Ghost’s heart ached as he watched you—he saw the torment, the desperate battle you were waging against yourself. But he couldn’t give in to his own fear. He couldn’t show weakness. You needed someone strong right now, someone who could ground you.

“You’re not alone in this,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos inside him. “I’m right here. You can fight this. You’ve fought worse.”

For a long, agonizing moment, nothing changed. Then, something in you seemed to shift. your breathing slowed, and your trembling hands clenched into fists at your sides. Slowly, carefully, you took a step back, your gaze still locked on him, but there was a spark of something in your eyes—determination, perhaps, or maybe just enough of a sliver of hope to hold on to.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the words barely audible as you sank to your knees, your body trembling with the effort of staying in control. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Ghost stood there for a moment, his breath slow and measured as he watched you. His own heart was still pounding in his chest, but he knew that this was a small victory. You hadn’t given in. Not yet. 

The room was silent again, but this time, the tension felt heavier. Ghost walked and sat before you, his posture stoic but steady. The weight of the moment pressed down on both of them—on you, the creature battling against your bloodlust, and on him, the man who had volunteered to face your darker side head-on. The quiet was thick with the unsaid, the understanding that you were teetering on the edge of something primal, something dangerous.

You had fought so hard to control it, to suppress the hunger that gnawed at you from within, but it was becoming unbearable. The gnawing ache inside you had only grown worse, consuming your thoughts, your body, until all you could focus on was the blood you needed. The blood that was just a breath away from your lips.

Your gaze flicked to Ghost, watching him closely, your pupils flaring as you caught sight of the vein pulsing gently beneath his skin. He had offered it to you—his neck, his trust, laid bare in front of you. And like before, you felt the pull, the surge of desire that swept through you, but this time, it was different. This time, you knew what you needed.

And yet, the same hesitation still lingered.

Ghost didn’t flinch. He didn’t withdraw. His gaze never wavered, unwavering, patient. He was offering you what you needed. He was letting you make the choice, giving you the space to control yourself.

“You can take it,” he said quietly, the words soft but firm. “I trust you.”

The air in the room felt electric now, thick with the charge of their shared understanding. Your breath quickened as you focused on his neck, your body trembling as the hunger reached its peak. The need for blood burned through your, sharp and consuming. you weren't sure how much longer you could hold it back.

You reached out slowly, the motion almost mechanical, your fingertips grazing the skin of his throat. The pulse beneath your fingers was like a steady drumbeat, each thump of his heartbeat only making you more aware of what you craved.

And then, with no more hesitation, You slipped into his lap and leaned forward.

Your breath hitches as you sink your fangs into his skin, the sensation of the blood rushing into your mouth immediate and overwhelming. It was nothing like with Gaz. While his blood was sweet, warm, and had a feeling that carried you through, Ghost’s blood was hot, pulsating, and strong. Like a cup of the strongest coffee. It was more than anything you had ever experienced—the taste, the  heat, the flood of life coursing into your as your body quivered in response.

There was no pain, only a sharp, almost overwhelming sense of ecstasy as the blood filled you, rushing through your veins, igniting something deep within you. Desire wrapped around you like a wave, its intensity both comforting and intoxicating. The hunger that had clawed at you was suddenly sated, replaced by a wave of satisfaction that spread through your body, leaving a warmth in its wake.

You could feel Ghost’s pulse, could feel the heat of his skin beneath your lips as you drank. Your senses sharpen even further, each drop of blood giving your clarity, heightening everything around you. The world felt brighter, sharper, as if the act itself was both an escape and a return to something you had lost long ago.

For a moment, everything else faded—the team, the facility, even your own inner conflict. There was only the blood, only the feeling of him beneath you, his heartbeat in sync with yours. His hands on your waist.

Ghost’s breath was shallow, but his grip on you remained firm. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He simply allowed you to take what you needed, holding you close enough to give your control, but far enough to ensure that it wouldn’t consume you entirely. Though he knew he wanted it too.

You could feel him, his breath against you, his presence surrounding you, but you were lost in the moment. The feeling of connection was overwhelming, your body responding in ways you didn’t fully understand, swept away by the intense pull of him.

And then, as the initial rush began to subside, you  pulled back, your fangs retracting slowly. your body was still trembling, the remnants of the ecstasy still flowing through your. You met Ghost’s gaze, your eyes wide, your chest heaving as you took in deep, steadying breaths.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The room felt thick with the weight of what had just happened. Your mind was still hazy, the sharpness of your hunger slowly receding, leaving only a sense of need in its place.

You needed him.

But the guilt soon followed. The shame of what you had just done—the act of taking something from him, something so intimate, so personal. you pulled away, your gaze dropping to the floor as you wiped your mouth, the remnants of the blood still fresh on your lips.

“I—I’m sorry,” You whispered, your voice strained with a mix of guilt and satisfaction. “I couldn’t stop myself.”

Ghost didn’t move, didn’t flinch. He simply watched you, his expression unreadable. “You didn’t need to be,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “You were in control.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the calmness in his tone. His eyes, as always, held that quiet intensity, but there was no judgment in them. No fear.

“You trust me?” You asked, your voice trembling slightly, still not fully understanding the depth of what you had just done, or what it meant for them.

“I trust you,” he replied simply, his gaze unwavering. “And you proved it. You took what you needed and stopped when you had enough. That’s control.”

You swallowed hard, your head spinning as the weight of his words sank in. The hunger, the thirst, had taken you to the edge—but you hadn’t fallen. you hadn’t let it consume you. You had stopped, on your own.

And for the first time, you felt like you had a chance—like maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to live with what you were, to control the monster inside of you, without losing yourself in the process.

For now, it was enough.

“Thank you,” you whispered, meeting his eyes once again, your voice soft but filled with gratitude. “For trusting me.”

Ghost nodded, his face still unreadable but his eyes softening ever so slightly. “You’re learning. And that’s all we can ask for.”

You leaned back, your breath steadying as you finally allowed yourself to relax. The hunger was no longer clawing at you. The world, for now, felt quieter, calmer. You had fought the darkness within you and won.

And Ghost had helped you find your way through it.

Chapter 16: Stargazing With The Captain. 🝮

Notes:

WHY DOES AO3 HATE MEEEEEE 😭 NO ONES READING ANYMOREEEEE

The last few hours had been a rare calm. The team, gathered together in the kitchen, had shared laughter and cookies, bonding over the simplicity of the moment. But as the evening drew on, the weight of their mission and their responsibilities returned, tugging at the edges of their thoughts. They knew that tomorrow would be filled with more challenges, more dangers. For tonight, however, they could breathe.

One by one, the team retired to their respective rooms. Ghost, ever the quiet observer, disappeared into his corner of the building, Soap followed soon after, his grinning demeanor settling into something more reserved as he prepared for sleep. Gaz, who had already snuck a few extra cookies, wandered off to his quarters, leaving only Price standing by the door.

You lingered in the common room for a moment, your thoughts tangled as you looked out the window at the night sky, your mind drifting between past and present. It had been a long time since you had allowed yourself a moment to truly feel—and tonight, you could almost forget the monster inside you. The night sky, star-filled and quiet, beckoned you like an old friend. It was the one place where you could let your thoughts wander freely.

As you stood there, gazing out the window, you heard the familiar sound of the door creaking open. You turned, your gaze falling on Price as he stepped out into the cool night air. His usual serious demeanor softened only slightly, a faint trace of exhaustion shadowing his features. He was headed outside, likely for a smoke—something he did to clear his head after a long day.

You hesitated for only a moment. You had been trying to  keep to yourself these past few nights, not wanting to trouble anyone or drag anyone into your world. But tonight felt different. You didn’t want to be alone, not with the unease still sitting heavily in your chest. The stars had always been a comfort to you—something that grounded you, reminded you that there was still beauty in the world, even amidst the chaos. And for once, you didn’t want to face it alone.

“Can…Can I go out there with you?” You asked, your voice soft but steady, betraying the vulnerability you felt. “I want…I want to watch the stars.”

Price paused, his hand resting on the doorframe as he turned to face you. There was a brief moment of hesitation before he nodded, his expression softening in a way you hadn’t seen often from him.

“Of course,” he replied, his voice gruff but kind. “It’s not much, but it’s a good view.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest at his response. You followed him outside, the cool air immediately brushing against your skin as they stepped into the open space. The night sky above them was a velvet tapestry, speckled with stars that seemed to stretch endlessly. The stars, once so distant, now felt like something you could almost reach out and touch.

Price lit his cigar, the glow from the tip briefly illuminating his face before the smoke curled into the air. He leaned back against the building, giving you space but still close enough that they could speak easily.

You sat a few feet away, gazing up at the sky, your mind quiet for the first time in a long while. There was something soothing about the vastness of the universe—something that made you feel small, but not insignificant. Just as what Soap said. It reminded you that the world was so much bigger than your struggles, your powers, and the chaos you found yourself in.

“Do you ever wonder about all of this?” You asked softly, your voice carrying in the stillness of the night. “About the stars… about what’s out there? I mean, all the stories we’ve heard… the ones that make us believe we’re the only ones, the only ones who matter.” You paused, taking a deep breath. “But maybe there’s more. Maybe we’re just a small part of something bigger.”

Price didn’t speak at first, letting the question linger in the air. He took a long drag from his cigar, his eyes following the trail of smoke as it drifted upward. For a brief moment, he seemed lost in thought, the weight of his experiences pressing against him.

“I used to think about it a lot,” he finally said, his voice low and thoughtful. “When I was younger. The stars, the things we don’t know. The universe is so damn big, there’s bound to be something out there. But you know what? In the end, it doesn’t really matter. It’s what we do with the time we have, with the people we care about. That’s what matters.”

You turned your head slightly to look at him, your gaze soft as you processed his words. You didn’t say anything at first, but something in your chest settled. Price was right. The stars were beautiful, but they weren’t going to change the fact that you were here, in this moment, with the people you had come to trust. You had a choice in how you would move forward—and maybe that was enough.

A long silence passed between them, both of them standing under the stars, lost in their own thoughts. The crackle of the cigar and the soft sound of the night breeze were the only sounds that filled the quiet space.

You found yourself feeling at peace, a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time. You had expected it to be awkward, uncertain, but there was something comforting in just being here with Price. In the company of someone who had seen too much, who had carried burdens of his own—and yet, in this moment, they were just two people, standing in the stillness of the night.

“Thanks for letting me join you,” You said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s nice. To just… breathe.”

Price flicked his cigar to the ground and stomped it out, his eyes still on the sky. “Anytime. Sometimes, a little peace is all we need.”

You smiled, your heart a little lighter than before. You didn’t need all the answers. You didn’t need to understand everything. All you needed was this moment—this brief, simple moment where you could just be you. Under the stars, surrounded by silence, and the comfort of someone who didn’t judge you, but simply accepted you.

And for tonight, that was enough.

“Woah!” You said, immediately standing to your feet, spinning around to Price “Did you see it? The shooting star?” You said, the smile growing on your face just as bright as a star itself. 

“I did.” He said, just as another flew by. You smiled widely, before closing your eyes. “Make a wish!” You said. 

Price stared at you as you clasped your hands, your smile making your entire face light up. He watched you bounce unconsciously from foot to foot, your joy practically radiating off you. 

I wish to save you. To keep you happy and safe for as long as I can.

Chapter 17: The Mission To Get Him Back.

Deep within the hidden facility, the air was stale, the hum of fluorescent lights casting an unrelenting glare on the grim faces of the scientists seated around the oval table. Documents littered the surface, some marked with red ink, others creased from the anxious hands that had held them. The tension in the room was palpable, their focus honed on the absence of one of their own—Dr. Harding.

At the head of the table, Dr. Morgan, a sharp-featured woman with steel-gray hair, tapped a pen against the edge of a folder. Her eyes scanned the group before landing on Dr. Keller, Harding’s closest colleague.

“We’ve lost control of Harding,” Morgan said coldly, her voice echoing in the sterile room. “Kidnapped by the very creature he created, and still, we have no reliable intel on their location.”

Keller adjusted his glasses, his fingers trembling slightly. “It’s not just Harding,” he said. “It’s the failure. She was always unpredictable, but now she’s a rogue variable—one we can’t afford to ignore.”

Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “And what do you propose, Keller? That we sit on our hands while she runs loose and Harding spills every secret we have?”

“No,” a voice interrupted from the far side of the table. Dr. Evans, a younger, ambitious member of the team, leaned forward, his expression grim. “We use Elias.”

The room fell silent, the weight of the name hanging heavily in the air.

“You can’t be serious,” Keller said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Evans smirked, his confidence unshaken. “Why not? He’s stable, powerful, and most importantly—he’s bonded to her. He’ll lead us straight to them.”

“He’s dangerous,” Keller argued. “We barely managed to contain him the last time he was triggered. And you think letting him loose is the solution?”

Morgan raised a hand, silencing the brewing argument. “Explain,” she said, her sharp eyes on Evans.

Evans straightened in his seat. “Elias was designed to complement her abilities, to be her equal—or her superior. The connection they share is no accident; it’s part of their programming. If anyone can track her down, it’s him. And if we give him the right… incentive, he’ll do it willingly.”

“Incentive?” Keller scoffed. “You mean manipulation.”

“Call it what you want,” Evans shot back. “The fact is, Elias still has a soft spot for her. He doesn’t know what she’s become—what she’s capable of now. We can use that to our advantage.”

Morgan steepled her fingers, her gaze distant as she considered the proposition. “Elias is volatile,” she said finally. “But Evans is right. He’s our best shot at finding Harding and regaining control of the situation.”

Keller’s hands curled into fists. “And what happens when he finds out we’re using him? Or worse, what if he turns on us like she did?”

Morgan’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Then we’ll deal with him. But for now, we need results. Evans, you’ll oversee his conditioning. Make sure he knows exactly what’s at stake if he doesn’t cooperate.”

Evans’s smirk widened. “Understood.”

As the meeting adjourned, the group dispersed, their expressions a mixture of determination and unease.

In the lower levels of the facility, behind a series of reinforced steel doors, Elias sat in his dimly lit cell. His pale eyes stared unblinking at the far wall, his posture unnervingly still. The collar around his neck hummed faintly, a constant reminder of his captivity.

When the door slid open, Elias didn’t flinch. His gaze shifted only slightly as Dr. Evans entered, flanked by two armed guards.

“Elias,” Evans said smoothly, his voice laced with false warmth. “It’s been a while.”

Elias said nothing, his expression unreadable.

Evans stepped closer, his confidence unwavering. “I have a proposition for you,” he said. “One that involves an old friend of yours.”

At that, Elias’s eyes sharpened, his focus locking onto Evans.

“Lila,” Evans continued, his smirk widening. “She’s out there, Elias. Alone. Lost. But you can help her. You can bring her back where she belongs.”

Elias tilted his head slightly, his voice a low growl. “And what makes you think I’d help you?”

Evans’s smirk didn’t falter. “Because she needs you. And because if you don’t, she’ll be destroyed—by her own creation, or by forces beyond her control. Do you really want to let that happen?”

Elias’s jaw tightened, his pale eyes glowing faintly.

Evans leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Find her, Elias. Save her. And in return, we’ll give you what you’ve always wanted: freedom.”

For a long moment, Elias didn’t respond. Then, slowly, he rose to his feet, his towering presence sending a shiver down Evans’s spine.

He said your name softly, though his voice carried a dangerous edge. “I’ll bring her back. But don’t think for a second that I trust you.”

Evans’s smirk faltered, just for a moment.

“Trust,” Elias continued, stepping closer, his pale eyes locking onto Evans’s. “Isn’t something I give lightly.”

Evans swallowed, forcing a smile. “Noted.”

As Elias was led out of the cell, Evans couldn’t shake the feeling that they were playing with fire. But as far as he was concerned, it was a risk worth taking.

You wouldn’t see him coming. And when you did, it might already be too late.

Chapter 18: Elias.

Notes:

I love you all man. I’m sorry that this book isn’t as great as some of the others and I’m sorry that I don’t update as well as I should or type as much as I should. Life has been a pain so I’m just trying to go one day at a time. Thank you for all the massive support and love.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Elias sat in the dim confines of his new quarters, the hum of machinery and the faint vibrations of the facility surrounding him like a cruel symphony. His pale eyes were distant, unfocused, as memories began to rise to the surface, unbidden and relentless.

The image of you—fragile, trembling, wide-eyed—surfaced first.

He remembered the day they first brought you in. The sharp smell of antiseptic, the harsh glare of fluorescent lights, the dull echo of boots against the cold, sterile floor. You had been so small, so fragile-looking, though even then there was something about you that drew his attention.

Elias leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes as the memory played out.

~~~~~~~~

They had dragged you past his cell, her wrists bound, your face streaked with tears. Your eyes darted around the hallway, desperate for any sign of escape, but the scientists on either side of you offered no chance for it.

You had been terrified.

He could hear your heart racing, the erratic rhythm pounding in his ears even as you tried to keep your breathing steady. Fear rolled off you in waves, tinged with the salty scent of your tears.

They threw you into the cell next to his, the heavy door slamming shut with a metallic clang. He could still hear your soft sobs through the wall that separated them, muffled but unmistakable.

For hours, he listened.

At first, he ignored it, trying to block it out. He told himself it didn’t matter. That you were just another experiment, like him. Another tool for them to break and reshape. But the sound of your sadness—so raw, so human—gnawed at him in a way he couldn’t explain.

Eventually, your sobs grew quiet, replaced by an eerie stillness that unnerved him even more.

~~~~~~~~~~

Elias opened his eyes, staring at the faint cracks in the concrete ceiling above him. His hands clenched into fists as the memory continued to unfold.

The next morning, he saw you through the tiny window in your cell door. You were curled up in the corner, your knees drawn to your chest, your face hidden behind a curtain of messy hair.

The scientists ignored you as they walked by, their voices clipped and clinical as they discussed  your “potential.” You didn’t look up, your trembling form pressed against the wall as though you could disappear into it.

He felt something then.

It wasn’t pity—not exactly. It was more of a recognition. He knew what it felt like to be dragged into this hell, to be stripped of everything that made you feel human. He’d been there once. And now, here you were, a mirror of his own torment.

But you didn’t have the quiet defiance he’d built up over time. Not yet. You were all fear and anguish, and it twisted something deep inside him.

That night, when the facility grew silent, he’d acted on impulse.

Elias smirked faintly at the memory, his hand unconsciously brushing against his pocket as though he could still feel the faint texture of the sticky notes he used to keep tucked away.

He had written the first note with a pencil stub he’d stolen during one of their “sessions.”

Are you okay?

It was a simple question, but even then, he didn’t expect you to respond.

He’d slipped the note through the tiny gap beneath the wall that separated their cells and waited. For hours, there was nothing.

But then, just as he was about to give up, he heard the faint scrape of paper being pushed back.

No.

The single word made his chest tighten. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to spark something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Connection.

The next night, he tried again.

What’s your name?

The response came quicker this time.

From that night on, the notes became their lifeline. He learned more about you with each message. You told him about your life before the lab—the things you missed, the things you feared you'd never see again. In return, he told you what little he could about himself, carefully avoiding the details that might scare you.

When the scientists grew harsher, when their experiments became more invasive, you started slipping him notes that were nothing but questions.

Will it ever stop hurting?

Will we ever get out?

He didn’t have the answers she wanted. But he wrote back anyway.

It will hurt less when you stop letting them win.

I’m working on a plan.

The plan was a lie. He didn’t know how to get out. He didn’t know if they’d ever escape. But you needed hope, and if he could give you that—just a sliver of it—then maybe he wasn’t as broken as he thought.

Elias sighed, the memory pulling him back into the present. He ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening as he thought about what had come after.

He had kept you sane. For a time, he had been your anchor. But then they’d torn them apart, throwing him into solitary after one of his “episodes.”

By the time he’d seen you again, you weren't the same girl who had scribbled desperate questions onto sticky notes. You had changed—hardened.

And now?

Now, you were out there, free in ways he had only dreamed of, while he was still a prisoner. But if Evans was telling the truth—if you were in danger—then he wouldn’t hesitate.

Because no matter how far you’d come, or how far apart they were, he still felt that connection.

And he wasn’t about to let you go without a fight.

Chapter 19: Trust And Betrayal. 🝊

Notes:

ITS
ABOUT
TO
GO
DOWN.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

General Shepherd sat behind his massive desk, his fingers steepled together as he stared at the screen before him. The glow from the monitor illuminated his sharp features, casting shadows that only emphasized the calculating coldness in his eyes. The door to his office opened quietly, and Laswell entered, her footsteps deliberate and measured. She had been briefed on the latest developments, and from the look on her face, she knew what was coming.

Shepherd didn’t bother greeting her. Instead, he leaned forward, his voice low and controlled as he spoke.

“We need her back,” he said, his tone icy and resolute. “She’s become a liability—She was meant to be a tool for them, not a loose cannon running wild. Do you understand that, Laswell?”

Laswell nodded, her expression unchanged, though a flicker of concern glimmered in her eyes. “I understand. But you’re aware that she’s not just any experiment. She’s unique. The team’s been handling her—slowly.”

“Exactly,” Shepherd replied, his voice hardening. “And that’s exactly why we need to act now. She’s becoming unpredictable, and her bond with that group—the soldiers—only complicates things further. If they’re not careful, they’ll form attachments to her, make decisions based on emotions, not duty. That’s the last thing we need in a mission like this. If they hesitate, we all pay the price.”

Laswell clenched her jaw, but she didn’t argue. She knew Shepherd’s way of thinking, and she had seen firsthand the cold logic that drove him. Still, she had her doubts. “We’ve already seen what happens when you try to force control. You want me to help you contain her so we can learn about the facility, what they want to do against the US, but do you understand what that means? You can’t just treat this like any other mission, Shepherd. She’s not a weapon you can just point and shoot. She’s a person—her mind, her emotions—they’re all part of the package. Push too hard, and you risk losing everything.”

Shepherd’s eyes flashed with impatience. “I don’t care about her emotions, Laswell. I care about results. We’ve invested far too much into this little runaway experiment. If the team’s too weak to handle her, we’ll bring in someone else. We’ve trained them, we’ve given them everything they need. But this? This is bigger than them.”

Laswell took a deep breath, trying to steady her frustration. “You’re playing with fire. And if you make the wrong move, we’ll end up with a bigger problem than the one we’re trying to solve. She’s not just a weapon—she’s an unpredictable force. You can’t control that kind of power. We hurt her, we lose any information about the enemy.” 

Shepherd’s lips twisted into a tight smile. “Watch me.”

He leaned back in his chair, his hands now resting flat on the desk. “I want you to put pressure on the team. Remind them of the stakes. They’ll know what’s at risk if they don’t bring her back under control. And if they can’t do it, we’ll find someone who can.”

Laswell shook her head slowly. “You’re underestimating her, Shepherd. She’s already proven she won’t be controlled that easily. You want results, fine, but don’t pretend this will be an easy fix. The longer you keep pushing her, the more dangerous it becomes.”

Shepherd’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing. “Dangerous for whom?”

“For everyone,” she replied quietly, her voice steady despite the tension between them. “Including you.”

There was a long pause, a thick silence that hung in the air between them. Shepherd’s gaze never left her face as if testing her resolve, weighing whether she truly understood the consequences of defying him. When he finally spoke, it was in the tone of a man who had already made up his mind, who knew his path and would stop at nothing to follow it.

“I’m not interested in half-measures, Laswell. I want her controlled. I want her under control before she becomes too much of a threat. If the team can’t get it done, I’ll find someone who can. And if that means taking more drastic actions, so be it. But this will not be a failure.”

Laswell met his gaze evenly, though her insides churned with unease. She knew how far he would go, and she feared what that might mean for you. She had seen your vulnerability, the flickers of humanity in you—especially when you were around the soldiers. But Shepherd wasn’t interested in that. To him, you were just another asset, another piece of the puzzle to be manipulated, controlled, and ultimately disposed of when it no longer served its purpose.

“I’ll make sure the team gets the message,” Laswell said after a long moment, her voice quieter than before. She couldn’t stop him. But she would be ready to deal with the aftermath when it came. “But I’m warning you, Shepherd. If you push her too far, she won’t be the only one who’s out of control.”

The general’s gaze softened only slightly, but there was a cold edge to his words as he replied, “I’ll take my chances.”

As she turned to leave, Shepherd’s voice stopped her. “And Laswell?”

She paused, looking over her shoulder.

“Make sure the team understands the stakes. This isn’t just about her anymore. The entire mission is at risk.”

With that, she exited the room, leaving Shepherd alone in the dim light of his office. His mind was already turning, plans forming like dark clouds gathering on the horizon. He wasn’t going to let this situation slip through his fingers. You would be under control—one way or another.

—————————————————————-

Shepherd lingered in the conference room after Laswell’s departure, his mind running through contingencies as he stared at the satellite images. The door creaked open behind him, and without looking, he knew who it was.

“Graves,” Shepherd said coolly, folding his arms. “I was wondering how long you’d wait before slinking in.”

Commander Phillip Graves stepped into the room, his boots clicking against the floor. His Shadow Company patch gleamed under the cold light, but his expression was far from confident.

“General,” Graves began, his voice tight with forced composure. “I wasn’t slinking anywhere. I came to discuss—”

Shepherd turned on him with a glare that could cut steel. “Oh, I know exactly what you’re here to discuss. You’re here to explain how one of your units lost a key asset to the facility.”

Graves clenched his jaw, standing at attention. “Sir, with all due respect, the operation wasn’t compromised because of my men. The situation was unstable from the start. We didn’t have proper intel on what you were intending to do with the Task Force, and by the time we realized the threat—”

“It’s your slip-up, Graves,” Shepherd interrupted, his voice razor-sharp. “You let your Shadow Company lose the intel about the girl and the facility. Your failure, your oversight.”

Graves flinched but kept his posture straight. “We weren’t given the full scope of the asset’s… condition. If I’d known what I was dealing with—”

“She’s not in a condition, Graves. She’s a walking weapon. And you let her fall into enemy hands.”

Graves bristled, his frustration evident. “With all due respect, General, you’re not being exactly cooperative. You sent your task force to get her so you could cover your ass. You knew that the team was unpredictable—”

“And whose job was it to ensure she didn’t slip through the cracks?” Shepherd’s voice rose, his patience fraying. “This operation was about containment, and now we’re dealing with a PR nightmare waiting to explode. You’ve put us all in a corner.”

Graves stepped forward, his voice lowering to a growl. “I’m not the one who decided to start this program of creating bioweapons. If you had used the proper resources—”

“I used my fucking resources needed,” Shepherd snapped, his eyes narrowing. “What I didn’t have was control. And now, thanks to your blunder, we’ve got the CIA, and Congress breathing down our necks. They’re questioning if this is a national threat! Oh and let’s not forget, the fucking threat wandering around with a chip on her shoulder.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension thick as smoke. Graves broke the silence first, his tone measured but firm.

“Shepherd, with all due respect, this isn’t just my problem anymore. The girl’s gone rogue, sure, but she’s not the only loose thread. You heard Laswell—Elias is out there. And if you think he’s going to sit quietly while we deal with her, you’re dead wrong.”

Shepherd sighed heavily, his frustration simmering into a cold determination. “Elias is another problem entirely. But he’s not my immediate concern. My concern is that you—and your Shadow Company—fix this mess before it spirals any further.”

Graves nodded stiffly, his face unreadable. “Understood, sir. But I’m going to need full operational freedom if you want this done right. That includes handling Elias and the threat.”

Shepherd’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll have what you need, Graves. But understand this—there’s no room for error this time. If you fail again, you won’t just lose your command. You’ll lose everything.”

Graves didn’t flinch. “I won’t fail, General.”

“See that you don’t,” Shepherd said, dismissing him with a wave.

As Graves turned to leave, Shepherd’s voice stopped him at the door.

“And Graves?”

“Yes, sir?”

“If you get a clean shot at them, you take it. I don’t care what Laswell says. I won’t let this program come back to haunt me.”

Graves hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. “Understood.”

The door closed behind him, leaving Shepherd alone with his thoughts.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze falling on the satellite feed once more.

“This is your mess now, Graves,” he muttered to himself. “But if you can’t clean it up… I will.”

Chapter 20: Arrival.

Notes:

Ooooooga boooooooga

 

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

The air in the facility felt heavier the moment Graves stepped off the elevator. He moved with a precision that was unnerving, each step purposeful, each glance deliberate. His suit, dark and impeccably tailored, stood in stark contrast to the cold, sterile surroundings. He was a man who commanded attention, whose very presence caused the temperature in the room to shift. The scientists who happened to be in his path shrank back instinctively, their faces a mix of unease and fear. No one spoke to him. No one dared.

Graves’ reputation preceded him, and in a place like this, where control was paramount, his was the kind of power that left no room for mistakes. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the hallways with an almost predatory focus, the fluorescent lights above flickering slightly as he passed beneath them. The whispers of nervous scientists fell silent as he drew closer, his footsteps echoing in the silence like the ticking of an unseen clock.

He didn’t look at anyone, didn’t stop to acknowledge their fear. There was only one person who mattered right now.

Elias.

The young scientist had been trying to keep his head down, trying to maintain his role within the operation. But even he knew that when Graves walked into a room, nothing remained hidden for long.

“Where is Elias?” Graves’ voice cut through the murmur of the facility like a blade, quiet but laced with an undeniable command.

A scientist, trembling, hurried to point down the hall. “In the control room, sir. Just down the corridor.”

Graves’ gaze never faltered as he turned toward the direction indicated. The scientist, already sweating under the pressure of Graves’ presence, quickly retreated into the safety of another room, leaving Graves to continue his march alone.

As he approached the control room, Elias was already aware of his arrival. The young man stood by the window, watching the various monitors that tracked your movements and progress. He didn’t turn around when the door opened; he knew what was coming.

Graves stepped inside, his boots thudding heavily against the floor. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, Elias finally turned to face him, his features betraying no emotion except the bubbling anger.

“Ah, I was wondering when the boot licker would arrive. What can I do for you?” Elias’ voice was steady, but his eyes were guarded, a flicker of wariness creeping into them.

Graves didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “I want that threat back,” he said, his voice low but unmistakable in its threat. “And I want her under control. Now.”

Elias frowned, his fingers tightening slightly on the edge of the console. “You think I haven’t been trying? She’s more than just a subject now. She’s… different.”

Graves’ lip curled into a near imperceptible sneer. “I don’t care how ‘different’ she is. She’s a liability. The mission is at risk, and that means everyone here is at risk.” He stepped closer, his gaze locked onto Elias’. “If you can’t bring her in, I will.”

Elias’ jaw tightened, his rage evident, but he maintained his composure. “You think you can control her? You think you can just drag her back into this facility like she’s some kind of experiment again? You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

Graves narrowed his eyes, his voice cold. “I know exactly what I’m dealing with. And if you can’t do it, I will find someone who can. Don’t test me, Elias. Get her back—one way or another. If you fail, there will be consequences.”

Elias took a step back, his eyes flickering to the monitors. The images of you, still far from the facility, hovered on the screen, an unspoken reminder of the power you now wielded—and the danger you represented. He had tried so hard to help you, to understand you, but now it seemed like everything was slipping through his fingers.

“You don’t understand her,” Elias said quietly, though his voice held several more accusations. He had simply learned too much over the months to still think that the answers were black and white. “You can’t control what you don’t understand. You can’t just… force her back.”

Graves’ expression hardened. “I don’t need to understand her. I just need results.”

There was a long, tense silence before Elias finally spoke again, his voice colder than before. “If you take her back by force, it will be worse. She won’t come willingly. You’ll have made an enemy, Graves, and you won’t be able to control her at all. Not like that.”

Graves’ eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, sleek device that hummed quietly in his hand. It was the activator to the collar around Elias’s neck. “You’ll make it work. You have no choice.”

Elias glared at him, but a bitter realization settled in his gut. He had no power here—not anymore. Graves had his orders, and that meant there was only one way this was going to end.

“I’ll get her back,” Elias said, his voice tight with resignation.

Graves didn’t smile. He simply nodded, satisfied. “Make sure you do.” He turned on his heel and walked toward the door. “Failure is not an option, Elias.”

As Graves’ footsteps faded into the distance, Elias remained rooted to the spot, staring at the monitors, the weight of the decision pressing heavily on his chest. He knew what he had to do. But he also knew that what was about to unfold could break everything—him, you, and the fragile thread that held them all together.

And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Chapter 21: Undercover assistance.

Notes:

Are we ready? For the DRAMA!

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

The room was dimly lit, the faint hum of the overhead lights adding a subtle backdrop to the tense atmosphere. General Shepherd sat at the head of a sleek, darkened conference table, his posture rigid, his gaze intense. Across from him, Laswell stood by the window, her arms crossed over her chest, staring out at the sprawling cityscape below. She had just arrived from another briefing, her mind still racing with the implications of the latest developments involving you.

Shepherd’s voice cut through the silence like a knife. “She’s getting out of hand, Laswell. We need her back under control before this entire operation goes off the rails.”

Laswell turned slowly, her face set in its usual neutral expression, though the undertone of her voice betrayed a hint of skepticism. “I understand the urgency, Shepherd, but there’s more at play here than you’re letting on. She’s not like any other experiment we’ve worked with. The longer we wait, the harder it will be to rein her in. You’re not the only one concerned about what might happen if she’s pushed too far.”

Shepherd’s jaw clenched slightly, his sharp gaze never leaving her as he continued. “That’s exactly why we need to act now. Her bloodlust, her power—it’s spiraling out of control. The team isn’t enough. We need someone who can force her hand. Someone who won’t hesitate. If the soldiers fail—if they grow too close to her—then the entire mission is compromised.”

Laswell narrowed her eyes, a flicker of uncertainty passing through her. “And you think that’s going to work? You’re talking about treating her like a weapon again, Shepherd. You think the team doesn’t see that? You think she doesn’t feel that?”

Shepherd’s lips tightened into a thin line. “I’m not concerned with what she feels. I’m concerned with the results. This program has been going on for far too long for us to let one rogue experiment destroy it all. She was always meant to be a tool—just like every other subject before her. We gave them the ability to control her. If they fail, we will.”

The words landed between them, cold and calculated. Laswell’s brow furrowed as she looked at him, her thoughts racing. She had always known Shepherd was ruthless, but this—this was something else. There was a deeper, more sinister undertone to his words, an implication that she wasn’t ready to accept.

“Listen,” Laswell began, her voice more forceful now, “you can’t just expect us to force her back under your thumb. The team’s already been through hell, trying to keep her grounded. She’s not just a tool. She’s… she’s more than that now. If you push her too hard, there’s no telling what will happen. You saw the kind of damage she can cause when her bloodlust is triggered. We could be playing with fire here.”

Shepherd’s eyes flickered for just a moment, a brief flicker of something beneath the surface, but it was gone before Laswell could identify it. He didn’t respond immediately, choosing instead to let the silence stretch between them.

“You’re overthinking this,” Shepherd finally said, his voice cool and controlled. “The team will get the message. They’re soldiers. They’ll do what they’re told. If she becomes a threat, we’ll neutralize her. It’s that simple.”

Laswell’s heart skipped a beat, the weight of his words pressing down on her. She opened her mouth to argue, but something stopped her. Something in the way Shepherd’s voice had hardened, in the icy resolve in his eyes, made her pause. There was more to this than he was letting on.

She had always trusted Shepherd’s judgment, but the more she learned about this experiment, the more she realized that her trust was misplaced. There were things about this entire program she didn’t know. There were things that hadn’t been revealed to her yet.

Shepherd stood, his movements deliberate, his voice smooth as he spoke again. “Get her under control, Laswell. If the team fails, I’ll handle it myself.”

There was no room for negotiation in his words, no doubt in his voice. He was the one calling the shots. But Laswell still wasn’t entirely convinced. She had to know more. She had to find out who, or what, was pulling the strings behind the scenes.

Before she could respond, Shepherd turned, walking toward the door, his tone dismissive. “The clock is ticking. Don’t waste any more time.”

Laswell stood there for a moment, her mind racing. She had trusted Shepherd for years, but now something felt off. She didn’t know what it was, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something crucial. Something important.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Laswell’s gaze drifted back to the cityscape, the weight of her thoughts heavy in her chest. She had seen the dangers of this experiment firsthand, but now, as she tried to piece everything together, she realized that the situation was far more complicated than she had ever imagined.

Shepherd wasn’t just some general following orders. He was the architect of this entire operation. And if she wasn’t careful, she could end up a pawn in a much larger game than she could even begin to comprehend.

——————————————————————

Laswell paced around the dimly lit office, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her as she stared out the window. Shepherd’s last words echoed in her mind, cold and calculated. She had always known that the General played things close to the chest, but this—this was different. Something didn’t sit right. Shepherd wasn’t just a cog in the machine; he was the one turning the gears. And now, the more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn’t know the full extent of his involvement in the experiment program, or just how far he was willing to go.

She needed help. She needed answers, and there was only one group she could think of who might be able to provide them.

With a sense of resolve, she picked up the phone and dialed a number that she knew all too well. The line clicked, and a voice came through, low and steady.

“Laswell,” the voice greeted, calm and authoritative. “What’s the situation?”

“Rodolfo, I need you to put me in touch with Alejandro,” she replied without hesitation. She knew the Los Vaqueros team was a force to be reckoned with—sharp, tactical, and capable of handling high-stakes operations in environments most would balk at. But what Laswell needed from them now was different. She needed to understand what was really happening behind the scenes.

“Hold on,” Rodolfo said, his tone serious. There was a pause, then a slight click before Alejandro’s familiar voice came through.

“Laswell. You’ve got my ear. What’s going on?” Alejandro asked. His voice was a mixture of concern and curiosity, though it was clear he trusted her enough to listen.

“I need your help, Alejandro,” Laswell said, her voice low. “It’s about the facility situation, and I can’t handle it alone. We’re being pushed into a corner, and I need eyes and ears on the ground that I can trust.”

Alejandro was silent for a beat. Laswell could hear him muttering something in Spanish to Rodolfo in the background, before he came back on the line.

“I’m listening,” Alejandro said, his tone sharp as ever.

“She’s more than just a subject in this experiment,” Laswell began, her mind racing. “She’s been… evolving, and not in the way we expected. The team that’s assigned to her—they’ve bonded with her. Romantically. But that’s not the real issue. The real issue is Shepherd. He’s playing a game, and I’m not sure what his endgame is.”

“Isn’t Shepherd one of the guys pulling the strings?” Alejandro asked, his voice more skeptical now.

“Yes,” Laswell confirmed, her eyes narrowing in frustration. “But there’s something more. He’s orchestrating this entire operation to bring down the facility, but he’s far more invested in it than anyone realized. I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Alejandro. Something’s not right.”

Rodolfo’s voice interrupted briefly. “We’ll take the job, but if things go south, we’re not here to babysit. You know our priorities.”

“I know,” Laswell said, a hint of gratitude in her voice. “But I’m not asking for backup in the traditional sense. I need you to look into the origins of this experiment, find out who’s pulling Shepherd’s strings. There’s more to this, and we need to understand it before things get out of hand.”

Alejandro sighed on the other end of the line, his tone turning more serious. “Alright, we’ll start digging. But be careful, Laswell. We’ve been following some of Shepherd’s past operations, and we know he’s not just a soldier—he’s a tactician. You’re going up against a man who has everything planned out.”

“I’m aware,” she replied. “I’m counting on you to get the intel we need. No one else can be trusted at this point.”

“Understood,” Alejandro said. “We’ll move quickly. But be prepared—this might get messy. We’ll stay in touch.”

“Thank you, Alejandro. I’ll keep you updated on anything else that comes up,” Laswell said, the urgency in her voice clear.

Before she could hang up, Alejandro spoke one last time, his voice grave. “Stay safe. And remember—sometimes, knowing too much can be just as dangerous as knowing nothing at all.”

Laswell’s heart skipped a beat at his words. There was a truth in them that she hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. She had already crossed a line by reaching out to Los Vaqueros, but the deeper she dug into this, the more she realized how little she knew about what was truly going on. Shepherd had been playing a long game—and if she wasn’t careful, she might find herself at the center of it.

She ended the call and leaned back against the wall, her mind swirling with the implications of what she had just set in motion. Shepherd was a dangerous man, and if the Los Vaqueros team uncovered what she feared, the mission—no, the entire operation—could crumble under the weight of the truth.

But there was no turning back now. She would see this through, no matter where it led.

Meanwhile, in a secure location far from Laswell’s office, Alejandro and Rodolfo gathered their team. The air was thick with tension as the two men briefed their comrades about the new task. Their objective was clear: infiltrate, gather intel, and ensure that whatever Shepherd was hiding, it wouldn’t remain buried for long.

As they moved into action, Laswell’s warning echoed in their minds—this mission could reveal more than they ever expected, and in this world, that kind of knowledge often came with a steep price.

With the stakes higher than ever, the Los Vaqueros team set off into the unknown, ready to confront whatever lay ahead. The quiet hum of their aircraft filled the silence, carrying them closer to the truth.

Chapter 22: New Faces.

Notes:

Honestly I want to thank you all so much for the overwhelming support! I love you all!

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

You were alone in the kitchen, focused on the delicate process of making eclairs. The kitchen had become your sanctuary of sorts over the past few days, a place where you could create something that felt normal, something that wasn’t tainted by the bloodlust that constantly threatened to overtake you. Baking had become your escape, a small piece of your humanity that you clung to when the weight of everything else seemed too much.

The rich scent of vanilla and chocolate filled the room as you carefully piped the cream into the choux pastry, your movements steady and practiced. For a brief moment, you felt at peace, like you had found a little corner of your world that you could control.

But as you placed the last eclair on the cooling rack, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching, the heavy boots echoing in the hallway. You froze for a moment, unsure who it could be. The team wasn’t due back from their briefing for a while, and you had grown accustomed to being alone when they were in meetings.

The door creaked open, and two unfamiliar faces stepped into the room. Both men were dressed in tactical gear, their expressions serious but not unkind. One was tall, with sharp features and a commanding presence; the other was shorter but just as formidable, his eyes intense as he scanned the room. Your gaze immediately went to them, your heart rate quickening slightly at the sight of strangers. Your bloodlust began to rise as you wondered if you would have to fight these men. 

The taller one, his features rugged and weathered, gave you a small but welcoming nod. “You must be the one everyone's talking about,” he said, his voice smooth with a hint of an accent you couldn’t quite place. “I’m Alejandro. This is Rodolfo.”

Rodolfo, the shorter of the two, smiled warmly at you, though there was a quiet intensity in his eyes. “Pleasure to meet you,” he said, his tone a bit more casual than Alejandro’s, though still respectful.

You weren't sure what to make of them yet. You had grown used to the team you knew, their familiar faces and routines. But these men, part of a team you hadn’t yet encountered, were different. You couldn’t help but feel a small wave of unease rise in your chest. The circumstances of their meeting were far from ordinary.

But, they were here for a reason, and your role in this strange new world was to trust the people around you—at least for now.

“I’m… making eclairs,” You said, your voice a little shaky as you tried to cover up the fear you felt. “Would you like one?” You gestured to the tray of freshly filled eclairs sitting on the counter, their chocolate glaze still glistening.

Alejandro gave you a small smile, his eyes softening for a moment. “Eclairs? You’re a woman of good taste,” he said. “We’d be happy to try one.”

Rodolfo chuckled, stepping forward to take one from the tray. “Didn’t expect this on my first day,” he said, eyeing the eclair as if it were some sort of rare treasure. “But I’m not complaining.”

You, feeling a little more at ease as they dug into the pastries, took a cautious step closer to them. “I, uh, don’t really get to bake much anymore. But, when I can, I like to make something simple. I don’t know if it’ll be good, but…” You trailed off, self-conscious for a second, not used to this much attention on something you created from people other than the team.

“You’re being too modest,” Alejandro said, his voice carrying a certain warmth. “It’s not easy to make something like this. I can tell you’re not just cooking to pass the time. You’re good at this.”

You felt the slightest blush creep up your neck, but you didn’t mind. There was something refreshing about their straightforwardness. It was a stark contrast to the warmth you were so used to feeling with the others, who often treated you like a person who must be protected at all times than a woman capable of pulling her own weight.

Rodolfo took another bite, savoring it before looking up at you. “Honestly, if the task force ever gets tired of your baking, I’m sure the rest of us would be happy to take these off your hands,” he said, his grin wide but genuine.

You laughed softly, feeling the tension in your shoulders release just a little. “I think I’ll stick with baking for now. It’s nice to make something that’s… just for me, you know? Even if you guys do end up eating it all.”

Alejandro studied you for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. “I understand that,” he said slowly. “Everyone here has their own way of coping with things. Some of us have our missions, our duties… but we all need moments of normalcy. Something that keeps us grounded.”

Rodolfo, finishing off the last of his eclair, gave a mock salute. “I’ll drink to that. You’re already making this place feel a little more human.”

You smiled again, feeling a small sense of connection with them. Despite their professional exterior, there was a humanity to them that reminded you of the simpler times. The times before everything had become complicated, before you had become a weapon.

“I’m glad you like them,” you said quietly, your voice softer than before. “It’s just… nice to be able to share something.”

Alejandro nodded. “We appreciate it. We all have our roles here, but don’t forget that you’re part of this team too.” His voice was steady, a reminder that they didn’t see you as just another experiment, another tool. You were, for better or worse, part of the group now.

Rodolfo stood up from the table, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Well, I think we’ll leave you to do your baking. But just know, if you’re ever in the mood to make something else, we’re always around. We’re a hungry bunch.”

Your smile widened as you watched them leave the kitchen, the faintest sense of belonging settling in your chest. You hadn’t expected your quiet evening of baking to turn into a conversation, but it had been a welcome surprise.

And for the first time in a long while, You felt like you were in a place where you belonged—not just as an experiment or a weapon, but as yourself.

You glanced out the window, the stars twinkling softly in the night sky, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

Chapter 23: The Hunt Begins.

The night had settled over the facility like a heavy cloak, the quiet broken only by the occasional rustle of wind outside. Inside, the team had returned to their routine, going over intel, reviewing strategies, and preparing for what they didn’t yet know was coming. But Alejandro, sitting at his desk, couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

His phone buzzed on the desk, the screen lighting up with a message from Rodolfo.

“We found something.”

Alejandro’s pulse quickened. He quickly tapped the message, reading it in a swift motion. The words were brief but the weight of them hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Elias is gone. He escaped. He’s on the hunt for her.”

He read the message again, his thoughts racing. Elias. The experiment. The one who had been so close to you before the escape—someone who knew you well enough to track you down if he needed to. If he was coming after you,  that meant more trouble than Alejandro could have imagined.

Alejandro stood up, pacing the small space. His heart was pounding in his chest, the sharp realization dawning on him. Elias had always been dangerous, but now with the power that the experiments had given him, it would be worse. You wouldn’t just be in danger of being captured. Elias would stop at nothing to get to you, and the team wouldn’t be enough to stop him if he was truly intent on completing whatever mission he had for you.

He quickly dialed Rodolfo’s number, the tone ringing once before his partner picked up.

“Talk to me,” Alejandro said urgently.

“We’ve confirmed it,” Rodolfo’s voice was grim. “He’s gone. The security systems were tampered with, and the cameras show him making his way out. We tracked him to the outskirts, but we lost him in the woods. He’s hunting her, Alejandro.”

A cold chill ran down Alejandro’s spine as he processed the news. “We need to secure her. Now.”

Rodolfo hesitated. “We’re on our way, but if he’s already out there, we might not be fast enough.”

“I’ll call Price. We need to move before he does,” Alejandro replied, his mind already shifting into mission mode.

He hung up and quickly dialed Price, his fingers tight around the phone. The urgency in his voice was unmistakable when Price picked up.

“Price, we have a problem. Elias has escaped. He’s coming for her.”

There was a long pause before Price responded. “Damn it. Alright, we’ll move on it. We’ve got a location on him?”

“Not yet,” Alejandro said, his mind working quickly. “But we’re going to need to move fast. Elias is dangerous, and we can’t let him get close to her. She’s been through too much. She can’t fall into his or their hands again.”

“We’ll help you find him.” Price said firmly. “We’ll start mobilizing the team.”

Alejandro disconnected the call, his mind already working through the plan. Elias would be hard to track, but they had to try. He couldn’t afford to let you fall back into the hands of the people who knew exactly how to hurt.

Meanwhile, at the safehouse, you were sitting in the common room, staring out the window at the twinkling stars. You had tried to ignore the knot in your stomach all day. There was something in the air that didn’t feel right—something that made you feel on edge.

A light knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to see Ghost standing there, his expression unreadable as always, though there was a sign of concern in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, his deep voice soft but steady.

You nodded, but the feeling of unease hadn’t left you. “I think something’s coming. I don’t know why, but I feel like it’s all going to change.”

Ghost didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him as he moved to stand by your side.

“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it. You’re not alone,” he said, his tone firm, but with an underlying compassion that made your heart twist. You didn’t know why, but hearing him say that felt like the only thing grounding you.

But even as the words settled into your chest, you felt a presence—something darker, something far too familiar. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as a shiver ran through you. It was him.

Elias.

You didn’t need to hear his voice or see his face to know he was close. The blood in your veins hummed in a way that only he could trigger, the connection between you stronger than you had realized. Elias was coming, and he wouldn’t stop until he had you.

Your body tensed, your fingers clenching into fists as your breath quickened. “He’s here. Elias… he’s coming for me.”

Ghost’s eyes sharpened as he immediately moved closer, his instincts kicking in. “Where? Where is he now?”

“I don’t know,” You whispered, fear creeping into your voice. “But I can feel him. He’s close. Too close.”

————————————————-

The mood in the safehouse was electric, a charged mix of fear and fury that seemed to vibrate in the air. The team had just received the news: Elias had escaped. The experiment who knew you best, the one who shared you tormented past in the facility, was now hunting you.

Price stood at the head of the table, his face a mask of controlled fury. He slammed a fist onto the hard surface, the sharp sound making everyone in the room flinch. “How the hell did this happen? I thought we had eyes everywhere!”

Gaz leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table. “Elias is slippery—more than we gave him credit for. He’s one of them, isn’t he? Same enhancements, same instincts. If anyone could pull this off, it’d be him.”

Ghost’s voice cut through the room like a knife, calm and deadly. “Doesn’t change the fact we let him get ahead of us. We’ve put her in a bloody firing line.” His fists were clenched at his sides, his knuckles white under his gloves.

Soap, who had been pacing like a caged animal, stopped in his tracks and spun to face Price. “We can’t let her out of our sight—not for a second. If he gets to her, that’s it. She’s the key to all this. Without her—”

“Without her, we’ve got nothing,” Price finished grimly. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily. “We need a plan. Now. We can’t afford to lose her.”

Across the room, you sat quietly in a chair, your crimson eyes fixed on the floor. You could feel their fear, their anger, and it was suffocating. You knew you were the reason for it, and the weight of that realization pressed heavily on your chest.

“It’s not your fault,” Gaz said suddenly, his voice softer now as he looked at you. “You didn’t ask for this.”

“I didn’t ask to be hunted either,” You said, your voice quiet but steady. You looked up, meeting his gaze. “But it’s happening. You all don’t have to pretend it’s not my problem too.”

Price stepped forward, his tone softening but still firm. “You’re not a problem. You’re the reason we’re still standing. You’re the reason Harding and Elias are running scared. Don’t lose sight of that.”

Soap let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Doesn’t mean we’re not scared, though. For you, for us. This isn’t just another mission—this is personal now.”

Ghost, still standing in the shadows, finally spoke up. “We need to focus. If Elias is coming, we’ll be ready. We’re not losing anyone—not her, not any of us.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of his words settling over them.

Price finally straightened, his commanding presence drawing everyone’s attention. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Gaz, you’re on recon. Figure out how far Elias could’ve gotten and what his next move might be. Soap, you’re on perimeter duty. I want the safehouse locked down tight. Ghost, you’re with me—we’re doubling up on intel with Laswell.”

“What about me?” You asked, your voice quiet but determined.

Price looked at you, his expression unreadable. “You stay here. With Soap on the perimeter, you’ll have backup close. We can’t risk you out there. Not now.”

You opened your mouth to argue but stopped when you saw the look in Price’s eyes. He wasn’t just your commander; he was a man desperate to protect his team and more specifically, you.

As the team moved to carry out their orders, the tension in the air didn’t dissipate. It only shifted, morphing into a steely resolve. They couldn’t afford to lose you—not to Elias, not to Harding, not to anyone.

You were more than their mission. You were their star, their hope, their proof that they could stand against the shadows of their enemies. And they would protect you, no matter the cost.

Chapter 24: Calm Before The Storm.

Notes:

Next chapter, you guys will hate me.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

The team sat in the dimly lit common room, their faces drawn with frustration and fatigue. The hunt for Elias had yielded no results, and the weight of failure hung heavy in the air. Gaz paced near the window, Soap sat hunched over the table, and Ghost leaned silently against the wall. Price, ever the steady presence, stood at the center, his expression a mix of anger and concern.

“Where the hell is he?” Soap growled, slamming a fist onto the table. “We can’t let him get close to her.”

Gaz stopped pacing, his voice tight. “We don’t even know how close he is. For all we know, he could be right outside, waiting.”

“Enough,” Price said sharply, cutting through the tension. “We’ll find him. But right now, she needs us to be focused, not tearing ourselves apart.”

The room fell silent, the unspoken truth thick between them. Ghost was the first to break it, his deep voice quiet but resolute. “This isn’t just about protecting her anymore.”

Soap looked up, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Ghost’s dark eyes scanned the room, pausing on each of them. “We’re not just guarding her because it’s our job. Because it’s the right thing to do. We’re doing it because we care. More than we should.”

Gaz let out a slow breath, his arms crossing over his chest. “You’re not wrong. She’s… God, she’s wormed her way into our heads. Into our hearts.”

Soap’s lips twisted into a small, almost reluctant smile. “The way she lights up when she bakes. Or when she talks about the stars. It’s impossible not to care.”

Price’s voice was steady, but there was a weight to it. “She’s become more than just someone we’re protecting. She’s part of us now. And yeah, maybe it’s more than care.”

“We love her,” Ghost said simply, the words falling heavy in the room.

The admission hung in the air, and one by one, the team nodded, the truth settling over them. They had fallen for you — this fragile, fierce, and utterly enchanting little vampire who had become their world.

Unbeknownst to them, you had been listening from the top of the stairs. Your eyes widened as their words washed over you, each one more shocking than the last. Your heart pounded in your chest, and your cheeks burned as you processed what you were hearing.

They love me? The thought was almost too much to bear.

The warmth in your chest was overwhelming, a mix of joy and disbelief. You stepped forward, your movements hesitant, and before you could stop yourself, you appeared in the doorway.

The team froze when they saw you, their eyes locking on yours. Your expression was unreadable, but tears shimmered in your eyes, and your lips parted as if to speak.

Price began, his voice soft as he said your name.

But before he could finish, you let out a small, gasping sob and bolted back up the stairs. The team jumped to their feet, calling after you, but the sound of your door slamming shut silenced them.

“Damn it,” Gaz muttered, running a hand through his hair. “We scared her off.”

Soap exhaled heavily, shaking his head. “She heard us. Every word.”

Price frowned, his gaze fixed on the stairs. “We’ll give her time. But we need to let her know it’s okay. That she doesn’t need to run.”

Behind her locked door, you slid to the floor, your knees pulled to your chest. Tears streamed down your cheeks, and you buried your face in your hands. But despite the tears, a small, shy smile tugged at your lips.

They love me, you thought, the words a warm, soothing balm to your self-doubt.

And deep within your chest, the truth burned bright and undeniable.

I love them too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The safehouse was unusually quiet. You stayed holed up in your room, your baking the only proof of life you offered. Every night, without fail, the team would return from their frantic searches for Elias to find a new pastry left on the counter—a small act of care that was as heartbreaking as it was touching. Tonight, however, they were determined to break through the silence and make things right.

Price leaned over the counter, arms crossed. “We owe her something special.”

“She deserves a bloody break is what she deserves,” Soap muttered, licking a bit of chocolate off his thumb before dropping another glob into a mixing bowl.

Gaz chuckled from across the room. “Special, right? So why does it look like you’re trying to murder the dough?”

Soap glared at him, brandishing a whisk coated in a sticky mess. “Oi, this dough will taste amazing if you stop yapping and lend a hand.”

“Maybe if you didn’t put half the chocolate in your mouth first,” Ghost chimed in dryly, flicking a stray bit of flour off his sleeve. He had wisely stayed out of the fray, preferring to observe the culinary chaos.

“Enough,” Price interrupted, holding up a hand. “We’re making her cookies. Focus.”

“I don’t even think she likes cookies,” Gaz said, pushing past the others to grab a bowl of sliced strawberries. He moved with purpose, his voice softening. “But I remember her saying once that strawberry shortcake was her favorite. Thought I’d give it a go.”

The team went quiet for a moment, exchanging glances as they realized how much thought Gaz had put into the gesture. Soap grumbled something about showing off but begrudgingly returned to his chocolate-coated chaos.

By the time you emerged from your room, lured by the sounds of muffled shouting and the smell of something vaguely sweet, the kitchen was a disaster zone. Soap had chocolate smeared on his nose, Ghost’s mask was dusted with flour, and Price was glaring at a burnt tray of cookies with the intensity of a battlefield strategist.

You clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle, but it bubbled over, your quiet laughter filling the room. The sound stopped the team in their tracks.

“Glad to see someone’s amused,” Soap grumbled, but his lips twitched with a small smile.

Price stepped forward, brushing his hands on his apron. “Come on, lass. We’ve got something to show you.”

You followed him outside, your curiosity piqued. Soap walked ahead, his usual swagger replaced by an eagerness to guide you into the yard. The cool night air greeted you, and when you looked up, you gasped.

The sky was alive with streaks of light, meteors dancing across the inky expanse. Your eyes shimmered as they reflected the brilliant display.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the quiet rustling of the wind.

Gaz appeared beside you, holding out a plate with a small, perfectly crafted strawberry shortcake. “Thought you could use some cheering up.”

You took the plate gingerly, your hands trembling slightly. “You… made this for me?”

“Technically, I made it,” Gaz said, shooting a pointed look at Soap. “They were busy turning the kitchen into a war zone.”

You laughed again, your cheeks flushed with warmth. Price placed a gentle hand on your head, giving you a soft pat. “You’ve done plenty for us. Tonight, it’s our turn to take care of you.”

You nodded, your chest tight with emotions you couldn’t quite name. “A-about what you all said earlier—”

Ghost cut you off, his voice steady and calm. “You don’t need to answer right now. We just want you to relax tonight.”

You swallowed hard, nodding as you sat on the grass. The team settled around you, quiet but present, their gazes occasionally drifting from the sky to you. For the first time in weeks, you felt a sense of peace, the heaviness in your chest lifting just a little.

I wish things could stay like this forever.

Chapter 25: The Fight For Your Life.

Elias stalked through the dense forest, his every step deliberate, his every move calculated. In his hand, a secure communicator buzzed faintly with the voices of the scientists from the facility, their cold, clinical tones a sharp contrast to the raw energy simmering within him.

“Elias,” Graves spoke, his voice clipped and precise, “you’re less than a mile out from the target. Ensure maximum disruption. We need them disorganized when our team arrives.”

“I know the plan,” Elias replied curtly, his tone betraying his impatience. “Keep your extraction team ready. Once I have her attention, you’ll have your window.”

“Good,” Graves said. “Remember, the girl is the priority. The Task Force is expendable.”

Elias’s jaw tightened. He didn’t care about the team, but their presence complicated things. This wasn’t just about bringing you back to the facility—it was about outmaneuvering the elite soldiers protecting you.

The safehouse came into view as he broke through the treeline, its silhouette barely visible in the moonlight. He halted, inhaling deeply, his enhanced senses picking up the faintest hints of gun oil, freshly baked cookies, and…you. Your scent was unmistakable, a haunting blend of familiarity and power that made his chest tighten.

Gripping the communicator tighter, he spoke again. “I’m at the edge of their perimeter. Starting the distraction now.”

Grave’s voice crackled through. “Understood. Keep them occupied for at least ten minutes. That’s all we need.”

Elias didn’t respond. He simply cut the connection and pocketed the device before stepping into the clearing.

 

—————————————————————

 

The quiet night at the safehouse was shattered by the sound of breaking wood and splintering glass. Alarms blared as Elias tore through the perimeter with unrelenting force, his enhanced strength leaving destruction in his wake. The team scrambled, weapons drawn, shouting commands to each other as they moved into defensive positions.

“He’s inside!” Soap shouted from the hallway, his rifle aimed down the dark corridor.

“Hold the line!” Price barked, his voice steady despite the chaos. “Don’t let him through!”

But Elias wasn’t here to be subtle. His attacks were precise, calculated, and devastating. With a single strike, he sent a door flying off its hinges, his presence like a shadow creeping closer to its goal.

You heard the commotion from your room and bolted upright. Your heart pounded as you threw open the door, crimson eyes glowing in the dim light. You knew who it was before you  saw him—Elias.

You stepped into the open air, barefoot and trembling, but not with fear. With anger. With defiance.

Elias stood in the clearing outside the safehouse, his broad figure silhouetted against the moonlight. His eyes locked onto yours immediately, a strange mix of urgency and determination flashing across his face.

He said your name, his voice calm despite the chaos. “Come with me. Now.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, and you square your shoulders, refusing to back down. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Elias.”

“You don’t understand,” he insisted, taking a step forward. “They’ll come for you. The facility won’t stop until they have you back. I can protect you. We can escape, just like we always talked about.”

You shook your head, taking a step closer yourself. “I’m not running. Not from them, and not with you.”

Elias’s face darkened, frustration evident in his features. “You think these people care about you? You’re just a weapon to them. A tool.”

“And what about you?” You snapped, your voice shaking with fury. “You’re the one who’s been hunting me! You’re the one who’s put me in danger!”

He sighed, his tone softening. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I want to keep you safe. But if you won’t come willingly…”

He moved faster than you could react, closing the distance between them in a blink. You barely had time to dodge as his hand shot out, grazing your arm.

The fight began.

You lashed out with all the strength you had, your fists colliding with him in a flurry of blows. You fought with desperation, with anger, with everything you had learned since escaping the facility. But Elias was stronger. Faster. More experienced.

He blocked your attacks effortlessly, countering with strikes that sent you stumbling back. The team was trying to intervene, their shouts echoing in the night, but Elias kept you isolated, his movements calculated to keep them at bay.

“You’re not strong enough,” he said, his voice almost gentle as he caught your wrist mid-strike. “Not yet.”

You snarled, twisting out of his grip and launching another attack, but it was futile. He swept your legs out from under you, pinning you to the ground with ease.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, looking down at you with something like regret in his eyes.

“You already have,” You spat, your crimson eyes blazing with defiance.

Elias hesitated for a fraction of a second—just long enough for a low hum to fill the air.

The sound of rotor blades.

Your eyes widened in realization, and you looked past him to see a helicopter descending from the night sky, its spotlight sweeping over the safehouse.

“It was never about winning,” Elias said quietly, standing and stepping back as the facility’s extraction team descended. “It was about finding you.”

“No!” You screamed, struggling to your feet, but you were too late.

The extraction team moved with precision, subduing the Task Force despite their furious resistance. Price and Soap were locked in a brutal fight with two operatives, while Gaz and Ghost fired round after round to hold their ground.

You tried to run, to fight, to do anything, but a sharp pain in your neck stopped you. Your vision blurred as you felt yourself being pulled back.

“Elias,” You murmured, your voice fading as the tranquilizer took hold.

He caught you before you hit the ground, cradling you gently as the extraction team secured the area.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice heavy with guilt.

And then they were gone, leaving the safehouse in ruins and the team battered and enraged in the aftermath.

 

 

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐟 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏.

 

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞?

Notes:

Thank you everyone so much for this journey of part 1! I’m grateful for every read, kudos, comment, and support. I can’t wait to get up and writing for part 2! (After a long nap lol)

I love you all!!

- Lottie ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Chapter 26: Anger and Denial.

Notes:

We’re back baby

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

The safehouse was silent, but it wasn’t the kind of quiet that brought peace. It was heavy—thick with anger, frustration, and guilt. The metallic smell of blood lingered in the air as the team tended to their wounds. Each bandage wrapped around a cut or scrape felt like a personal failure, a stark reminder of how they had lost you.

Price sat at the head of the table, his expression carved from stone as he dabbed at a gash on his arm. His jaw clenched so tightly that it looked like it might snap. Every now and then, he would glance toward the door as if expecting you to walk through it, your shy smile lighting up the room. But you wouldn’t. Not this time.

Soap paced back and forth, his frustration barely contained. “We were right there. Right bloody there!” His voice cracked, and he slammed his fist against the wall. He let out a small hiss of pain, pulling his hand back. “How the hell did we let this happen?” 

Gaz leaned against the counter, his head bowed, fists clenched at his sides. “We didn’t ‘let’ anything happen, mate. Elias and those bastards…They planned this. They were ready for us.”

“But we weren’t ready for them,” Soap snapped, his voice raw. He stepped closer to Gaz, his eyes clouded with tears.  “We’re supposed to protect her, Gaz. That was our job, and we failed.”

Ghost sat silently in the corner, his mask discarded for the first time in hours. His face, usually unreadable, was tight with barely concealed rage. He methodically cleaned the blade of his knife, the repetitive motion the only thing keeping him from exploding. “Pointing fingers won’t bring her back,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “What matters now is figuring out how to get her back.”

Price slammed the medkit closed on the table, silencing the room. “He’s right. Elias doesn’t want her hurt—at least, not yet. That gives us a window, however small. We’ll find her.”

Gaz looked up, his breathing heavy. “And when we do?”

“Then we end this,” Price said coldly, his gaze like steel.

Soap finally spoke, the tears rolling down his face. He quickly dabbed at his eyes, Gaz softly pulling him into a hug. “She’s probably blaming herself right now, thinking she’s a burden or some nonsense. We need to remind her she’s not.”

“She knows,” Gaz muttered, his voice softening slightly. “She has to know.”

Ghost’s grip on his knife tightened. “We’ll make sure of it.”

The silence returned, but this time it wasn’t empty. It was filled with resolve. They might have lost tonight, but they weren’t giving up. They couldn’t. You weren’t their mission anymore—You were their star. And they’d walk through hell to bring you home.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meeting room was tense, the air thick with frustration and unspoken anger. Price sat at the head of the table, his sharp eyes locked on Shepherd, who leaned back in his chair with a look of calculated indifference. Beside Price, Laswell was stiff, her arms crossed as she studied Shepherd like he was an explosive waiting to detonate. The rest of Task Force 141—Soap, Ghost, and Gaz—stood nearby, their silence louder than words, while Alejandro and Rodolfo lingered by the door, their expressions grim.

They had come here looking for answers, for help. But what they were getting was something entirely different.

“Shepherd,” Price began, his voice low and steady, though anyone who knew him could hear the restrained fury beneath it. “You’ve been briefed on the situation. She’s been taken. We’re asking for your support to get her back.”

Shepherd exhaled slowly, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table. “And I’ve already told you, Price, this isn’t my fight.”

The room bristled. Soap shifted, his fists clenched at his sides, while Ghost’s gaze turned colder than usual. Gaz muttered a curse under his breath.

“Not your fight?” Laswell repeated, her tone sharp enough to cut. “She’s a high-value asset. She’s critical to our understanding of what the hell is going on with these experiments. You can’t just wash your hands of this.”

Shepherd gave her a flat look. “I’m not washing my hands of anything, Laswell. I’m prioritizing. We’ve got bigger problems to deal with—real threats. This… situation is a distraction.”

“A distraction?” Alejandro’s voice cut through the room, his accent thick with disbelief. “That girl is more than some asset, General. She’s one of us now. We don’t leave our people behind.”

“She’s not one of us. Neither are you,” Shepherd said coldly, his calm demeanor finally cracking. He glared at Alejandro. “She’s an experiment. A liability. And one I’m not risking lives or resources to save.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of Shepherd’s dismissal sinking in.

Price leaned forward, his hands resting on the table as he stared Shepherd down. “You’re not even going to try? After everything she’s done—after everything we’ve done—you’re just going to leave her to rot?”

“She was taken back to the facility for a reason,” Shepherd replied. “She’s where she belongs. If you ask me, you should be grateful. Saves you the trouble of dealing with her. Just take the entire facility down.”

Ghost’s voice was low, dangerous. “You’re playing a dangerous game, General.”

Shepherd met his gaze without flinching. “I’m playing the game we all signed up for. Sometimes that means making tough choices. If you can’t handle that, maybe you’re in the wrong line of work.”

Soap stepped forward, his face red with barely restrained fury. “You’re a fuckin’ coward!” He spat. “You’d rather let her die than admit you’re too scared to deal with what’s happening.”

“She’s a risk!” Shepherd snapped, his voice rising for the first time. “You think I’m scared? I’m protecting the bigger picture, Sergeant. You’re too blinded by sentiment to see it.”

“That’s enough,” Laswell said sharply, stepping between them. She turned to Shepherd, her tone icy. “You’re making a mistake, Shepherd. Mark my words, this will come back to bite you.”

Shepherd stood, his chair scraping against the floor. “This conversation is over. If you want to waste your time chasing ghosts, be my guest. But don’t expect any support from me.”

With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving behind a silence that was deafening.

Price stood slowly, his expression dark. “We don’t need his help,” he said, his voice steady but filled with conviction. “We’ll get her back. On our terms.”

Alejandro nodded, his jaw tight. “Damn right we will.”

Rodolfo placed a hand on Alejandro’s shoulder, his gaze unwavering. “We’re with you. All of us.”

The team exchanged determined glances. Shepherd had made his choice, but so had they. You were their priority. And they weren’t going to let you go without a fight.

 

 

 

Chapter 27: Helplessness.

Notes:

GUYS. OVER 4,000 HITS?! YOU GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING?!

YOU GUYS ARE SO AMAZING! THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME SHARE MY STUPID LITTLE FAN FICTION WITH YOU GUYS!!

LOVE YOU ALL!

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

The cell was cold, a damp chill seeping into your bones as you laid on the hard, unyielding floor. The heavy shackles around your wrists and ankles cut into your skin, their weight a cruel reminder of your captivity. You could feel the suppressive energy humming through them, a reinforcement designed specifically to keep your powers at bay. You were helpless, trapped in every sense of the word.

You turned your head slightly, your cheek pressing against the rough stone floor. Your eyes stared at the wall, but your mind was far away, back with them—your team. You could almost hear Soap’s boisterous laugh, see the way Gaz’s smile lit up a room, or feel the calming presence of Ghost, always steady and reassuring even in the worst of times. You thought of Price, his hand on your shoulder, grounding you with quiet strength.

A tear slipped down your cheek, followed by another. Soon, you were silently crying, your chest tight with an ache you couldn’t suppress. They had risked everything for you, given you more than you ever thought you deserved. They had shown you kindness, warmth, and love in ways you had never known before.

And now, you are gone.

“I never told them,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the suffocating silence. The words felt like a confession, one that cut you deeply. You had heard their words, the way they spoke about their love for you, the depth of their feelings. You felt the same love burning in your chest, overwhelming and undeniable. But you had never said it back. You had run instead, too scared, too overwhelmed to admit the truth to them or to yourself.

And now? Now you might never get the chance.

The thought tore at you, your tears falling faster as you bit your lip to keep from sobbing. You didn’t want to give your captors the satisfaction of hearing your pain, but it was so hard to keep it all inside.

“I love you,” you whispered again, as if somehow, across the vast distance that now separated them, they might hear you. Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. “I love all of you.”

Your tears blurred your vision, and you closed your eyes tightly, trying to picture their faces instead. You clung to those memories, to the moments of laughter and comfort, to the way they had made you feel safe even when the world was falling apart.

“I’ll come back to you,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone else. “I’ll find a way… I have to.”

The determination in your voice was quiet but resolute. You didn’t know how or when, but you refused to let this be the end. For them, for the team that had become yours, and for the love you hadn’t yet had the courage to confess, you would fight.

Even in the cold, dark cell, with the weight of the shackles and the oppressive silence pressing down on you, you held onto that single, flickering flame of hope.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The sound of quiet footsteps echoed faintly through the dimly lit corridor leading to your cell. Elias moved like a shadow, slipping past guards and cameras with practiced ease. He felt a heavy weight in his chest as he approached the reinforced door. A weight that grew heavier when he saw you.

You laid curled on the floor, your hands and feet shackled to the cold stone beneath you. Your eyes were closed, but streaks of tears glistened on your cheeks, illuminated by the weak overhead light. You were crying softly, your breaths uneven, your body trembling.

Elias hesitated. He had seen you in pain before—had witnessed your fear and anguish when you were first brought to the facility—but this felt different. This was the pain he had caused.

You whispered something under your breath, so faint he almost didn’t catch it.

“I love you…”

His throat tightened. He knew you weren't speaking to him. That was for them, the team who had given you everything he couldn’t. The ones who had taken you away from this place, made you believe you could have a better life.

Elias felt his stomach churn. He stepped further into the cell, his presence barely registering until your heightened senses kicked in. Your eyes snapped open, locking onto him.

Your tear-streaked face morphed in an instant, your anguish giving way to fury so raw it burned like fire, your eyes a deep blood red. You sat up as much as the chains allowed, your hands balling into fists as you glared at him.

“You,” you hissed, your voice venomous.

Elias flinched but said nothing.

“You bastard! You think you can just sneak in here and watch me cry like some pathetic creep?” Your voice rose, a mix of anger and heartbreak that echoed in the small cell. “You—do you have any idea what you’ve done to me?”

Elias took a step back, his guilt pressing down on him like a physical weight. He said your name, his voice soft and hesitant.

“Don’t you dare say my name!” You spat, tugging at the chains that bound you. “You’re a coward, Elias. A fucking coward! You ripped me away from the only people who ever cared about me, who made me feel like I was more than some broken experiment!”

Your words cut deep, each one landing like a blow to his already fractured conscience. He wanted to say something, to defend himself, but what defense did he have?

“I trusted you,” you continued, your voice breaking slightly, though the fire in your eyes never wavered. “I trusted you, and you betrayed me. Do you even feel anything? Or are you just a soulless puppet for those monsters in white coats?”

Elias flinched again, his jaw tightening as he looked away. “I’m trying to protect you,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over your ragged breathing.

“Protect me?” You laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and humorless. “You call this protection? Dragging me back here, chaining me up like an animal? You don’t get to play the hero, Elias. Not anymore.”

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to meet your fiery gaze. “I didn’t have a choice,” he said, though even as the words left his mouth, he knew how hollow they sounded.

“There’s always a choice,” You shot back, your voice trembling with anger. “And you made yours. You chose them. You chose this.”

Elias opened his mouth to respond but found no words. What could he say that would make any of this better? Nothing.

You turned away from him, your shoulders heaving as you fought to suppress the tears threatening to fall again. “Get out,” you muttered, your voice quieter now but no less cutting. “Just… get out. I can’t even look at you.”

Elias hesitated, his heart aching as he watched you struggle to hold yourself together. He wanted to say something, to explain himself, but the truth was he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Without another word, he turned and left the cell, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in his ears. As he walked away, your words replayed in his mind, each one a painful reminder of the damage he had done.

Chapter 28: False Freedom.

Notes:

Sorry about the lack of updates! I have been dealing with a lot of at home issues.

But I am back and ready to pump out more chapters!

Thank you for the still constant love and support!

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Elias sat silently in the sterile briefing room, the hum of the overhead lights the only sound breaking the oppressive quiet. His fingers drummed idly on the table, betraying the tension he tried to suppress. His mind was still filled with the image of you—your tears, your rage, your betrayal. It haunted him, gnawing at him.

The door opened, and Graves walked in, his boots clicking against the cold floor. His presence immediately filled the room with an air of authority laced with a dangerous undertone. Graves wasn’t just a man who followed orders; he was a man who enforced them ruthlessly.

Elias straightened, his jaw tightening. He could already tell by the look on Graves’ face that this wasn’t going to be a simple conversation.

Graves didn’t waste any time. “You’ve been busy, Elias,” he said, his voice calm but laced with menace. He placed a folder on the table and slid it toward Elias. “You’ve been given a lot of leeway, but let’s get one thing straight—you don’t call the shots.”

Elias glanced at the folder but didn’t open it. “I did what I had to do,” he said evenly, though his knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the table.

Graves leaned forward, his palms flat against the table. “And now you’ve made yourself a liability. You’ve compromised this entire operation.”

Elias frowned, his confusion evident. “I did what you asked. I brought her back. Isn’t that what this was about?”

Graves smirked, though there was no humor in it. “You think this ends with her? That you get to walk away after this?”

Elias stiffened. “That was the deal. Bring her back, and I’m free.”

Graves laughed, a sharp, derisive sound. “Free? You really thought we’d just let you go? Let me make it clear, Elias—you’re not going anywhere. Not now, not ever. You’re too valuable, and frankly, too dangerous.”

Elias’s stomach twisted, the realization hitting him like a punch to the gut. “You lied,” he said, his voice low and seething.

Graves shrugged, unbothered. “Welcome to the real world, kid. We don’t deal in promises. We deal with the results.”

Before Elias could respond, the door opened again, and a figure stepped into the room. The air seemed to shift, the tension growing heavier. General Shepherd.

Elias froze, his eyes narrowing as the older man approached. Shepherd’s presence was commanding, his reputation preceding him. He was a man who operated from the shadows, pulling strings and making decisions that shaped the fates of nations.

Shepherd looked at Graves, nodding slightly. Graves stepped back, giving the General the floor.

“Elias,” Shepherd began, his voice calm yet carrying an edge that made Elias’s skin crawl. “I’ve been watching your progress. You’ve proven useful, but you’ve also proven… unpredictable.”

Elias’s fists clenched. “So what now? You’re here to tell me I’m just another pawn in your game?”

Shepherd chuckled, though there was no warmth in it. “A pawn? Hardly. You’re a valuable asset, Elias. But assets need to be controlled. Managed.”

Elias stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I’m not your puppet,” he growled.

Shepherd’s expression didn’t waver. “You’ve already played your part, whether you like it or not. You brought her back, and now we’ll ensure she serves her purpose.”

“She’s not a tool!” Elias snapped, his anger boiling over. “She’s—”

“She’s an experiment,” Shepherd cut him off coldly. “A means to an end. Just like you.”

The words hit Elias like a blow, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak.

Shepherd stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “You think you can defy us? Go ahead. But understand this—there’s nowhere to run. No one to help you.” Shepherd laughed. “You burned the bridge to the only team willing to help those like you.”

He leaned in close to Elias, his malice evident on his face. “You’re ours, Elias. Just like the little bat in her cage.”

Graves smirked from the corner, his arms crossed as he watched the exchange.

Elias’s mind raced, his heart pounding. He had known this operation was twisted, but this… this was something else entirely. Shepherd wasn’t just pulling the strings; he was the architect of this nightmare.

“You’re making a mistake,” Elias said finally, his voice low and steady despite the storm raging inside him.

Shepherd raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “The only mistake would be letting you think you ever had a choice.”

With that, Shepherd turned and walked out of the room, leaving Graves to follow.

Elias stood alone, his fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. He wasn’t free. He never had been. And now, he realized, the only way out would be to take down the very system that had created him.

Notes:

He really should’ve expected it.

Chapter 29: A Phone Call.

Graves stormed into Shepherd’s office, his boots slamming against the polished floor. The door shut behind him with a force that rattled the walls, but the General didn’t flinch. Shepherd sat at his desk, arms folded, his face cold and calculating as he looked up at the Shadow Company commander.

“You’ve got some nerve calling this meeting, Graves,” Shepherd said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of a thousand unsaid threats.

Graves ignored the jab, placing both hands on Shepherd’s desk as he leaned forward. “We need to talk, General. About the facility. About her. And Elias.”

Shepherd’s jaw tightened, but he remained seated. “I’ve already made my decision. We shut it all down. The experiments, the facility, the assets—all of it. They’re a liability, and I’m not wasting another resource on cleaning up this mess.”

Graves slammed a fist on the desk, the sound echoing through the room. “That’s where you’re wrong. They aren’t liabilities—they’re assets. Weapons. And you’re throwing them away like they’re nothing.”

Shepherd stood, his imposing frame towering over Graves. “They’re unstable, Graves. Unpredictable. You saw what happened when the girl got loose. Do you really think you can control her? Control Elias? They’re not soldiers—they’re a ticking time bomb.”

Graves smirked, his anger simmering just below the surface. “And isn’t that exactly what we need right now? Weapons no one else has. Tools to level the playing field. You’re thinking too small, Shepherd. We could use them. Train them. Turn them into the ultimate assets for Shadow Company and beyond.”

Shepherd’s eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a growl. “And what happens when they turn on us? When they decide they don’t want to follow orders? You think you can leash a force of nature, Graves? Because I don’t.”

“Then that’s your problem,” Graves snapped, his composure breaking. “You’re scared. You don’t see the potential—only the risks. But that’s why I’m here. I can handle them. I can turn them into what we need.”

Shepherd stepped around the desk, getting in Graves’ face. “You think you’re in control, but you’re just playing with fire. And when it burns you—and it will burn you—I won’t be there to save you.”

Graves didn’t back down, his smirk returning. “Then step aside and let me handle it. You want to run from this, fine. But I’m not letting this opportunity slip through my fingers.”

Shepherd’s voice turned icy, his words cutting through the tension like a blade. “You’re delusional if you think I’m letting this go any further. We end it. The facility, the experiments, and anyone who gets in the way. That includes you, Graves.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the two men locked in a battle of wills. Then Graves straightened, his smirk fading into a scowl.

“You’re making a mistake, Shepherd,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “And when you realize it, don’t come crawling to me for help.”

Shepherd crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “Get out, Graves. Before I decide you’re part of the clean-up, too.”

Graves stared him down for a moment longer before turning and walking out, slamming the door behind him.

As Shepherd sat back down, he exhaled heavily, his mind racing. Graves was a problem. One he couldn’t afford to let grow.

And neither could the two experiments he wanted to keep.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Graves leaned back in his chair, tension mounting as he stared at the screen in front of him. Shepherd’s stubbornness was becoming a problem. Graves knew that the situation with the facility was deteriorating, and without the right leverage, they were both going to lose. Shepherd was too blinded by his own arrogance, too fixated on his plans to understand the bigger picture. Graves needed backup, someone who could get things done without question.

His fingers tapped impatiently on the desk before he made the call. There was only one person who could possibly help him out of this mess — someone who had enough power and connections to make a real difference: Valeria, the cartel leader. He had worked with her in the past, and despite their history, there was an unspoken understanding between them. She wasn’t the type to deal in half-measures, and Graves knew that if he made the right deal, she would come through.

The phone rang, the seconds stretching into what felt like an eternity. Finally, a smooth, confident voice answered on the other end.

“Graves,” Valeria’s voice crackled through the line, cool and unbothered. “What’s this about? Last time we spoke, you seemed… to be more careful.”

Graves’s jaw tightened. “I need your help. It’s about the facility. And Shepherd.”

A brief silence followed before Valeria responded. “Shepherd? Interesting. I wasn’t aware you were in bed with him.”

“I’m not,” Graves snapped. “But I need him out of the picture. He’s a liability. If you want what’s coming to you, you’ll help me remove him before everything falls apart.”

Valeria hummed thoughtfully, her tone shifting slightly. “You always were a man of business, Graves. But I’m not interested in playing politics with someone who doesn’t know their place.”

“Valeria,” Graves, his voice measured but edged with tension, “I really do need your help. It’s complicated, but I’ll be straight with you—Shepherd’s making moves, and I need to keep certain assets alive.” He stopped, listening to her steady breathing. 

“This is bigger than just us,” Graves pressed on. “It’s not just about keeping assets alive. It’s about stopping Shepherd from making a terrible mistake. He’s ready to wipe out the whole facility.”

Another pause, longer this time. “The same facility where you experimented on people, Graves?” Valeria’s voice was laced with quiet fury, but her words cut straight to the core of the matter.

Graves’ stomach tightened at the accusation, but he didn’t flinch. “Yes. But these people—these assets—they’re important. And they’re not the same as the others.” He stopped, unsure of how to phrase it. He wasn’t used to talking about them in such personal terms, but Valeria had a way of making him think differently. “They’re more than just experiments. They’re human beings.”

Valeria let out a low, almost inaudible breath. “Human beings,” she repeated, her tone darker than it had been before. “You’re telling me that you, Graves, worked with Shepherd to create these monsters. And now you want me to help you protect them? You’re a goddamn hypocrite.”

Graves gritted his teeth. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness, Valeria. But I need you to listen. Shepherd won’t listen to me, and I’m trying to prevent something irreversible from happening. If you help me, we can keep them safe. I’ll owe you. This could mean something bigger for both of us.”

The sound of Valeria’s laughter echoed lightly through the phone, a mix of amusement, irritation, and calculation. “You’re asking me to trust you. That’s a big ask, Graves.”

“I’m not asking you to trust me,” he replied, his voice low. “I’m asking you to take advantage of the opportunity I’m giving you.”

There was another long pause, and Graves could feel the weight of Valeria’s gaze even though they were miles apart. Finally, she spoke again, her voice colder than before.

“Fine. But remember, Graves, I don’t work for anyone. I work for myself. And you’re going to owe me. Big time.”

Graves clenched his jaw, knowing full well that Valeria was playing the long game. But he had no choice. They both needed each other for this plan to succeed. The cartel would be the perfect force to help him pull off what was necessary — a diversion, a way to take down Shepherd and his operation.

“I understand,” Graves said, his voice steely. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Good,” Valeria replied. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

The line went dead, leaving Graves alone with his thoughts. He had made his move. Now it was just a matter of waiting for everything to fall into place. The stakes were higher than ever, and if he couldn’t pull this off, everything would collapse.

But with Valeria’s help, maybe — just maybe — he could outmaneuver Shepherd.

 

Notes:

MY WOMAN IS HERE!

WE STAN VALERIA.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Chapter 30: Snakes Bite At Suspicions.

Notes:

~ Let ‘em know.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

Valeria’s thoughts spiraled as she paced the dimly lit room, her mind a chaotic whirlwind of questions and suspicions. She knew Graves, and she knew how he operated. He wasn’t someone to trust lightly. Everything about him reeked of manipulation and self-interest, always loyal to his cause, never to the people he worked with. And now he was asking her to help protect two experiments—while conveniently leaving out the details.

Her jaw tightened as she thought about their first meeting, the backstabbing that had occurred on a previous mission. Graves had played both sides, betraying his allies when it suited him, all while never once losing his cold, calculating demeanor. He was loyal to Shepherd, and that loyalty had cost more than just a few lives.

What did he want with them? she thought, her hands tightening into fists. Why is he so desperate to keep them alive?

Her eyes narrowed as the thought came to her: Graves didn’t just want to keep them alive. There had to be more to it. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach—the way he spoke, the urgency in his voice. But there was no way he was being honest with her. The idea of keeping them alive was far too strategic to be driven by mere compassion. She had seen the way Graves thought, always looking for ways to manipulate any situation to his advantage.

Maybe it’s about control. Maybe these two are a means to an end.

Valeria stopped pacing and crossed her arms, leaning against the wall as the realization hit her. Graves wasn’t interested in them because of their humanity or worth. No, to him, they were assets—dangerous ones, perhaps, but useful. He wanted to keep them alive because they were weapons, and weapons like them could give him leverage over Shepherd or anyone else who stood in his way.

Her thoughts turned to Elias—silent, calculating, and dangerous. He’d always seemed more like a pawn than a player in the game. But her—she was different. Fierce, unpredictable, and yet, somehow, fragile. She had a rawness to her that Graves likely couldn’t see, only the weapon she could become. And now he was pushing Valeria to help him save them, to ensure they were kept in play, to preserve his ability to wield them as tools.

But that didn’t sit right with her. No matter how many lies Graves told, no matter how much power he tried to wield, Valeria was no fool. She had worked in this world long enough to understand when things were just too convenient.

She exhaled slowly and stood up straighter, a dangerous edge to her voice as she muttered, “I’ll help you, Graves. But not for you. Not for Shepherd. And not because I care about those experiments.”

Her mind was already working on the next steps—what needed to be done to make sure things didn’t go south, to make sure she kept control of the situation. She couldn’t afford to let Graves outmaneuver her.

But what does Shepherd want with them? She couldn’t ignore that question. Shepherd’s attitude towards them seemed to be more than just about them being a threat. He had a personal vendetta, and whatever it was, it made him dangerous.

Valeria was no stranger to ruthless decisions, but she had a strict code—control was everything. And she wasn’t about to let anyone, not even Graves, screw this up.

“Fine,” she said to herself, the decision solidifying in her mind. “I’ll play your game, Graves. But just know—if you try to pull anything, I’ll be the one who comes out on top.”

And with that, she made the call, preparing for the next move in this dangerous chess game.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Valeria arrived at the set coordinates, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings with practiced caution. She didn’t trust Graves, not for a second, but she was too experienced to show it. Her presence was as calculated as ever, though a small part of her couldn’t help but feel a twinge of empathy for the two experiments—the very people Graves was so eager to use.

Graves was already waiting, his cold demeanor barely flickering as she approached. He nodded at her, offering the barest acknowledgment of her arrival. “Glad you could make it,” he said, his voice devoid of warmth. “Let’s get to the point.”

Valeria didn’t waste time on pleasantries. Her mind was racing as she observed him, trying to gauge his true intentions. She wasn’t a fool. She knew the game Graves played, and she knew he wasn’t telling her everything. But she had to know more before she made her next move.

“What do you want, Graves?” she asked, her tone steady but edged with curiosity. “You’ve dragged me into this mess. So, tell me everything. Why the sudden interest in them?”

Graves hesitated for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he regarded her. “They’re… useful,” he said slowly, a hint of something darker lurking behind his words. “The experiments, their abilities. They’re assets, and Shepherd’s been too quick to throw them away. I’m keeping them alive for a reason, and it’s not just because of what they can do.”

Valeria raised an eyebrow, not buying his explanation for a second. She crossed her arms, leaning back slightly. “You think they’re just assets? You’re not even considering what’s been done to them, what kind of lives they’ve had. All for the sake of your precious weapons.”

Graves’ jaw tightened at her words, but he didn’t deny them. Instead, he shifted the conversation. “She is something different. She’s powerful, yes, but there’s more to her. She has a connection to something… something that could change everything. Elias, too. I need them both alive. To control them, to manipulate the situation before Shepherd makes his move.”

A sharp sting of realization cut through Valeria’s chest as she listened. Her instincts told her Graves wasn’t only after power—there was something more personal behind this obsession. He wasn’t just trying to use them for weapons; he wanted to control them, to own them. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.

As Graves continued to speak, outlining his plans, Valeria couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling of guilt and sympathy that surged through her. You, Elias—had they even had a chance at freedom? Had they ever been given a choice? Graves spoke as though they were pawns, as though their lives didn’t matter beyond their use. The idea of two people being treated like that was almost too much to bear.

She thought back to her own experiences, how she’d been forced to make choices in the name of survival. But she wasn’t a monster—not yet. And she couldn’t help but feel a deep pity for them. They were both victims of this cold, cruel system. They deserved more than this.

“Graves, you’re not fooling me,” Valeria said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “This isn’t just about them being useful. You’re trying to control them, to manipulate them into something they’re not. You think you can own them like puppets on strings.”

Graves didn’t respond immediately, his gaze hardening. But Valeria could see the flicker of doubt in his eyes. He wasn’t as confident as he appeared. And that gave her hope.

She wasn’t sure yet what she was going to do—what choice she’d make. But she knew this: she couldn’t stand by and let these experiments be used as pawns any longer. There had to be a better way.

Valeria turned her back on Graves, feeling her heart heavy with the weight of the situation. Her thoughts went to you and Elias—how they must have suffered, how much they must have been through. It wasn’t right, none of it was.

“I’m done here,” she said coldly, her voice tinged with finality. “I’ll help you, Graves. But not for you. And not for Shepherd. I won’t be a part of this any longer.”

Graves’ eyes flashed with annoyance, but he didn’t stop her as she walked away. Valeria knew this wasn’t the end. There was still much more at play than either of them realized. But one thing was certain: she wasn’t going to let you and Elias remain trapped in this nightmare, not if she could help it.

 

Chapter 31: Calling Some Help.

Notes:

Oooga booga. We are back!

Alejandro’s voice was immediate, sharp, and tinged with irritation. He had no time for Valeria, and that much was clear.

“Valeria,” he growled, clearly trying to suppress the urge to hang up, “What the hell do you want? You know I don’t want anything to do with you.”

Valeria’s laugh was soft and confident, her voice smooth as velvet. “Oh, I know, Alejandro. But this time… this time, I think you’ll make an exception. I have information. Information that could change everything for you. For your team. For her.”

The mention of you hit its mark. Alejandro’s breath caught slightly, and he clenched his jaw, though he refused to let his frustration show. “What do you mean? What information?”

Valeria continued, her tone teasing but controlled. “Ah, you’re getting ahead of yourself. I can’t just give you everything over the phone. No, no, that would be too easy. But I promise you, it’s big. Something you don’t want to miss. You can meet me at the usual place. We’ll talk then.”

Alejandro was silent for a beat, weighing his options. He didn’t trust Valeria, not for a second, but there was one thing he did trust—his need to protect you for his amigo’s sake. He couldn’t ignore this.

“Fine,” he said, his voice tight with restraint. “I’ll meet you. But this better be worth it, Valeria. If this is some game you’re playing, I won’t hesitate to put you down.”

Valeria smiled, hearing the resolve in his voice. “You’ll be glad you did. I’ll be waiting.”

She ended the call before he could respond, her smile never fading. She knew this was the only way to get Alejandro to cooperate. The 141, the Los Vaqueros, and the whole mess with you—this was her opportunity to turn the tide.

Now, she just had to make sure Alejandro played his part. And maybe, just maybe, she could use this meeting to gain even more leverage.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alejandro stood in the small, dimly lit room, a hard look in his eyes as he dialed the number for the 141. He didn’t have time for distractions, but Valeria’s call couldn’t be ignored. The woman knew too much, and that was dangerous—especially if it concerned you.

“Price,” Alejandro said when the line picked up. His voice was direct, all business, though his underlying concern was clear. “We need to talk. It’s about Valeria.”

There was a brief pause on the other end before Price responded, his tone sharp. “What about her?”

“She called me,” Alejandro continued, his eyes narrowing. “She wants to meet. She claims she has information. Big information. I don’t trust her, but I know better than to ignore her. Not when it could have something to do with our vampiro.”

The team fell silent, the weight of the situation settling over them like a dark cloud.

“Valeria?” Soap was the first to break the silence, his voice skeptical. “She’s dangerous, mate. Always has been.”

“Exactly,” Alejandro replied, his eyes flickering with tension. “But she’s not one to make empty threats. If she’s calling about the facility, we need to hear her out. I don’t trust her any more than you do, but this is about more than just our mission now. This is about keeping her safe.”

There was a pause as Price considered the situation. The weight of responsibility was on him, as always, but now it was even heavier. He and the team had been protecting you for so long, and they were closer than ever to finding out who was behind everything.

“We’ll go with you,” Price finally said, his voice steady but laced with the intensity of someone who was about to step into dangerous territory. “But we’re not making any moves until we know exactly what she’s after. She’s tricky—always has been.”

“Agreed,” Alejandro said. “I’ll meet her, but I’ll make sure she knows the 141 and Los Vaqueros are watching. If she’s lying, she’ll regret it.”

Ghost spoke next, his voice calm but sharp. “We’ll be ready for anything. But we need to know what we’re walking into. This could be a trap.”

“You’ll be kept in the loop,” Alejandro replied. “I’ll be careful.”

Soap let out a breath, still uneasy about the situation. “Aye, just don’t trust her, Alejandro. She’s always been a snake.”

“I know,” Alejandro answered, his jaw clenched. “But if she has info on them, we need to get it..”

Price sighed heavily. “Keep us informed. And be ready for anything.”

Alejandro nodded, even though they couldn’t see him. “Will do.”

The call ended, and Alejandro’s gaze hardened as he prepared for the meeting with Valeria. She was dangerous, manipulative—but he wasn’t about to let that stop him. Not when your safety was on the line.

Notes:

SHES NOT EVIL 👿

Chapter 32: Growing Tension.

Notes:

I’m so sorry for the lack of updates! I’ve been back and forth in the hospital. :(

The atmosphere in the safehouse was heavy as the task force gathered their gear. Each of them moved with precision, but the tension in the room was palpable. Valeria was not someone they trusted, and the prospect of working with her set their nerves on edge. Still, the faint glimmer of hope that this meeting might bring them closer to rescuing you drove them forward.

Soap adjusted his tactical vest, his jaw tight. “I don’t like this. Trusting Valeria? Feels like walking into a trap.”

Ghost, silent as ever, checked his weapons methodically before speaking in his low, steady tone. “It’s not about trust. It’s about getting her back.”

Gaz, seated near the table, looked up, his expression a mix of worry and determination. “If there’s even a chance she knows something—anything—we have to take it. We owe it to her.”

Price stood at the head of the room, his arms crossed as he surveyed his team. His usual calm demeanor was tinged with the same undercurrent of urgency that filled the others. “Valeria’s slippery, but Alejandro wouldn’t have brought this to us if he didn’t think it was worth it. We stay sharp, no one lets their guard down.”

Soap nodded, but his expression was still troubled. “Aye, but what if she’s leading us into something worse? Shepherd’s already playing games—what if she’s in on it too?”

Price met his gaze, his voice firm. “Then we deal with it. One step at a time.”

The mention of Shepherd’s lack of care for you darkened the mood further, but the thought of you—their star—kept them moving. Each man had his own silent fears, but the memory of her laugh, her smile, the way she brightened their grim lives, fueled their resolve.

“She’s out there, waiting for us,” Gaz murmured, his voice softer now. “And probably thinking we’ve forgotten about her.”

Soap gritted his teeth. “We’ll prove her wrong. Bring her back, no matter what it takes.”

Ghost glanced toward the door, his mask hiding whatever emotion flickered beneath. “We will. And no one gets in our way.”

Price gave a nod, his tone a mix of authority and reassurance. “We’re bringing her home. That’s all there is to it.”

The team finished gearing up, each man carrying not only his weapons but the weight of his feelings for the little vampire they’d grown to love. As they prepared to leave, a shared determination bound them together. They would meet with Alejandro and Valeria, uncover whatever they could, and bring you back—safe and sound.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tension was palpable as Alejandro approached the meeting spot, his expression cold and unreadable. Valeria stood a few feet away, casually leaning against a dusty car, her sharp eyes scanning the empty surroundings. The moonlight cast a faint glow over the deserted location, emphasizing the stark contrast between their opposing natures.

From the shadows, the task force lay in wait, their eyes trained on the interaction. Price signaled for silence with a quick gesture, and Soap shifted slightly, his hand resting on the butt of his weapon. They weren’t here to trust Valeria—they were here to see if she could be trusted at all.

Alejandro stopped a safe distance from Valeria, his body tense. “Valeria,” he greeted flatly, his voice devoid of warmth.

“Alejandro~,” she purred, a smirk spreading across her face. “I knew you’d come. You’ve always been so… predictable.”

He ignored the jab, crossing his arms over his chest. “You said you had information. Something important. Speak.”

Valeria tilted her head, her smirk fading slightly as her tone turned serious. “Do you know what your precious gringos are involved in? Graves. Shepherd. They’ve been running a facility—an experimentación. On people, Alejandro. Innocents turned into weapons.”

Alejandro’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “What do you know about this?”

She gave a mocking laugh. “Oh, I know enough. Enough to know they’ve got something you care about. The little vampire. And another one. Elias, I think. Your gringos are not the heroes they pretend to be, mi amigo. They’re monsters, just like me.”

Alejandro took a step closer to Valeria, his voice dropping into a growl. “Why are you telling me this? What’s your angle?”

Valeria shrugged, her smirk returning. “Maybe I’m feeling generous. Or maybe I don’t like Graves or Shepherd playing God. They’ll stab you in the back the first chance they get—believe me, I know the type.” She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “And maybe I know you and your little friends will do the dirty work for me.”

Alejandro’s eyes flashed with anger. “This is a game to you.”

“No, Alejandro,” she said, her tone turning icy. “This is leverage. You and your team want the girl back? Then you’d better start playing smart. Graves is already working on his next move, and Shepherd? He’ll burn the whole facility to the ground before he lets you get close.”

Alejandro straightened, his voice steady. “Give me something concrete, Valeria. Something I can act on.”

Valeria’s smirk widened. “How about the facility’s location? I’ll send you the coordinates. But after that, you’re on your own. And Alejandro—” She stepped back, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Don’t screw this up. I’d hate for you to lose your little vampire.”

Alejandro didn’t respond, his eyes burning with barely restrained fury as she walked away. Once she was out of sight, he turned toward the shadows.

The weight of the revelation settled over the task force like a suffocating blanket. They stood in a tight circle, just out of earshot of where Alejandro had been speaking with Valeria. Shock and fury radiated from each of them as they processed the intel.

“Graves and Shepherd were the ones running the facility?” Soap’s voice broke the silence, his Scottish lilt trembling with rage. His hands shook at his sides, clenched into fists. “All this time, they were behind it?”

Price’s jaw was tight, the veins in his temples visible as he glared at the ground. “It explains too much,” he growled. “Their secrecy. The delays. The way Shepherd brushed us off when we asked for help. It was all a bloody cover-up.”

Gaz folded his arms across his chest, trying to hide the way his fingers dug into his biceps. His voice was laced with disbelief and anger. “They lied to us. Used us. And all the while, she was a pawn in their sick game.”

Ghost, standing slightly apart, was silent, his breathing heavy. The tension in his body was palpable, and the glint in his eyes behind the mask hinted at the storm brewing within. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and dangerous. “We trusted them. And they put her in that hellhole. They’re going to pay for it.”

Soap shook his head, pacing like a caged animal. “Our poor lass… all she wanted was a chance to live. To feel human again. And they’ve been experimentin’ on her like she’s nothin’ but a weapon.” He slammed his fist into the nearest tree, the sharp crack echoing in the still night.

“We’re not leaving her there,” Price said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “Not Elias who they have locked up in that godforsaken place.”

Soap’s head snapped up. “The bloody brute took her away!” He snarled out, his anger radiating off of him.

“It wasn’t his choice. Knowing Graves, he properly manipulated Elias. He’s an experiment, a victim. Just like her.” 

Soap let out a sharp breath, nodding at Price’s words.

Gaz looked up, determination hardening his expression. “We’re going to end this. For her. For everyone they’ve hurt.”

Soap nodded, his anger now tempered with resolve. “Aye. Graves and Shepherd don’t know what’s comin’ for them.”

Ghost tilted his head, his voice sharp and cold. “We’ll make them wish they’d never crossed us.”

Price looked around at his team, his eyes fierce. “This doesn’t leave here. No one else can know what we’re planning until we’ve got a solid plan of attack. Alejandro, get Valeria’s intel confirmed. Once we know where she is, we’re moving. No hesitation. Understood?”

The team nodded, their collective anger now laser-focused into purpose.

For you, they would bring hell down on Graves, Shepherd, and anyone else who dared to stand in their way.

Chapter 33: A plan to escape.

Notes:

Thank you to everyone for the support and wishes for me while I get through this tough time! I hope my updates give you a little bit to look forward to.

Love you all!

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

You sat on the cold, hard cot in your cell, your wrists still shackled and your body drained from the new relentless experiments. Your head hung low, your crimson eyes staring at the floor as the faint sound of the heavy door creaking open broke the silence. You tensed, expecting another scientist or guard. Instead, the figure that stepped into the dim light was someone you hadn’t expected to see.

“Elias,” you whispered, your voice low and laced with disbelief.

He stepped closer, his face a mix of anger and desperation. His normally calculated demeanor was cracked, revealing the turmoil beneath. He said your name softly, his tone almost pleading. “I promised you. All that time ago, I swore we’d escape together.”

Your eyes narrowed, your trust in him shattered after all that had happened. “You promised,” you repeated bitterly, your voice trembling with restrained fury. “But instead, you brought me back to this. To them.”

Elias flinched at your words, his fists clenching at his sides. “I know, and I’m sorry. I—” He paused, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I made mistakes. But you have to believe me. I never wanted this for you. I thought I was protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” You snapped, your voice rising despite your weakened state. “You handed me over to the people who turned us into monsters!”

Elias lowered his head, guilt etched across his face. “I thought it was the only way to keep you alive. But I see it now—Graves, Shepherd… They lied. They’ve been lying to us from the start.”

Your anger simmered, your chest rising and falling as your glared at him. “And now you’re here. Why? To betray me again?”

He shook his head fervently, stepping closer. “No. Never again. I came because I realized we’re nothing but pawns to them. They’ll never let us go. Not me, not you. But together, we can fight back. We can escape.”

Your eyes softened slightly, though doubt still lingered. “And why should I trust you now, Elias? After everything?”

He knelt in front of you, his gaze locking with yours. “Because I’m the only one who knows this facility like the back of my hand. And because no matter what’s happened… I’ve never stopped caring about you. I need you to trust me one more time. Please.”

You studied him for a long moment, your heart torn between distrust and the flicker of hope his words brought. Your lips parted as if to speak, but you hesitated. Could you truly believe him? Could they really escape this nightmare?

The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncertain, as Elias waited for your answer.

“I just want to see them again,” you admitted, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “They’re the only ones who made me feel… normal.”

Elias nodded, his expression softening as he stood and took a cautious step back, giving you space. “Then let’s get you back to them. Together.”

You stared at him for a moment longer before letting out a heavy sigh. “I trust you, Elias. But I swear—” your voice dropped, filled with venomous warning. “If you’re working with them again, if this is another one of your games, you’ll wish they killed you when I’m done with you.”

A small, almost bitter smile tugged at Elias’s lips. “Fair enough.” Elias met your eyes, his expression softening for a moment. “I meant what I said. I promised we’d escape, and I’ll keep that promise. But we have to be smart.”

You sighed, glancing around the cell. “These chains are reinforced. They knew I’d try to break them. And even if we get out of here, there are guards everywhere.”

“Let me worry about the guards,” Elias said, his voice steady. “You focus on staying alive and getting your strength back. They haven’t fed you in days, have they?”

You shook your head. “No. Not properly, at least. But I can handle it. I’ve been through worse.”

Elias frowned but didn’t press further. Instead, he leaned closer, his voice dropping even lower. “They move the guards during the shift change in three hours. That’s our window. I’ve been memorizing their patterns since they moved me here.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And what about the cameras? The alarms? They’re not just going to let us stroll out of here.”

Elias smirked, a flicker of his old confidence returning. “I’ve got a plan for that too. There’s a blind spot near the east corridor. It’s risky, but it’s our best shot. Once we’re out of the cell, we can move through the ducts to avoid detection.”

You hesitated, doubt flickering in your eyes. “What if they catch us? They’ll kill us both.”

Elias reached out, his hand hovering just above yours. “They won’t catch us. Not if we stick together.”

For a moment, silence hung between them, the weight of their situation pressing down like a suffocating fog. Finally, you nodded, determination hardening your features.

“Alright,” you said. “But if this goes wrong…”

“It won’t,” Elias interrupted, his tone firm. “We’ll make it out of here. And then, you’ll get back to them.”

Your chest ached at the thought of the task force—Price’s steady presence, Soap’s infectious laughter, Ghost’s quiet strength, Gaz’s warm smiles. You couldn’t let them down.

“Let’s do this,” you whispered.

Elias nodded, and together, they began to quietly map out every detail of their escape, their voices barely audible over the hum of the facility.

Chapter 34: A Backstabber.

They found out, Graves!” Wolf’s voice cracked as he stormed into the room, his face flushed with both fear and fury. The youngest member of the task force was trembling, his nerves shot as he addressed his commanding officers.

Graves spun around, his expression instantly hardening. “What did you just say, Wolf?”

“They know! 141 knows about the facility, about her, about everything!” Wolf’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. “They know you and Shepherd are behind it all!”

“What?!” Shepherd’s booming voice filled the room, his carefully constructed composure slipping for the first time in weeks. His glare shifted between Wolf and Graves. “How in the hell did they find out?”

Graves’ jaw clenched, his knuckles whitening as he slammed a fist onto the table. “I knew we should’ve moved quicker! Dammit!”

“Moving quicker wouldn’t have stopped them,” Shepherd snapped, his voice sharp. “They’re too resourceful. Too loyal to that girl. If they’ve connected the dots, it’s only a matter of time before they come for us.”

Graves took a step forward, his anger boiling over. “Don’t pin this on me, Shepherd. This is your mess! Your experiments. Your orders to keep it off the books.”

“Don’t forget who gave you the power to run your little shadow ops,” Shepherd fired back, his tone venomous. “You want to talk blame? Let’s talk about how your team couldn’t keep a single girl locked down!”

Wolf flinched at the tension crackling between the two men, his voice barely above a whisper. “What do we do now? If they’re coming—”

Graves cut him off, raising a hand to silence the younger man. His face twisted into a grim smile, his eyes cold and calculating. “You,” He said, turning to Wolf, “Go back and learn whatever you can. Don’t let them figure out why you are gathering intel.” He turns to Shepherd and smiles. “They can come. Let them. We’ll be ready.” 

Shepherd leaned in, his voice low and threatening. “You better hope so, Graves. Because if we’re not, the fallout from this will bury us both.”

Graves’ smirk didn’t waver. “Don’t worry, General. I’ve got a plan.”

Wolf nodded, slipping out the door. The weight of their words settling over him like a storm cloud. For the first time, he wasn’t sure they were going to make it out of this alive.

As Wolf walked down the narrow corridor, he spotted Elias standing at the edge of a room, his expression dark and stormy as he stared at Wolf, The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with unspoken accusations.

“You’ve got some nerve showing your face here,” Elias growled, his fists clenched tightly.

Wolf barely glanced at him, crossing his arms. “What’s your problem, Elias? You’re supposed to be the big bad experiment. Why do you care what I do?”

Elias’s eyes burned with fury as he took a step closer. “You know why,” he snapped. “You betrayed them. You betrayed her. The team trusted you, and you turned your back on them for them?”

Wolf finally looked up, meeting Elias’s gaze with an unreadable expression. “And what about you, huh? Playing the hero now? Don’t act like you’re better than me. You’ve got blood on your hands too.”

“Don’t deflect,” Elias shot back, his voice low and dangerous. “I’ve done terrible things, sure. But I’ve never turned my back on someone who counted on me. You made your choice, Wolf. Now tell me why.”

Wolf hesitated, the confident façade cracking for just a moment. He pushed off the wall, pacing a few steps away before turning back to face Elias. “Do you even know what it’s like to be in their shadow all the time? Price, Gaz, Ghost, Soap—they’re always the ones calling the shots. They’re always the ones who matter. I’m just… there. A cog in the machine. Replaceable.”

Elias stared at him, his anger briefly tempered by disbelief. “You think that’s an excuse?”

“I don’t need an excuse,” Wolf retorted, his voice rising. “I made a deal, alright? Shepherd offered me a way out. A way to matter. You don’t know what it’s like to be invisible, Elias. To be overlooked no matter what you do.”

Elias shook his head, his frustration boiling over. “You think Shepherd gives a damn about you? You think Graves does? They’ll chew you up and spit you out the moment you stop being useful. The 141—they were your family. She was your family.”

Wolf’s jaw tightened, guilt flickering across his face for a brief moment before he buried it beneath a layer of defiance. “Family doesn’t mean anything if you’re always left in the background.”

Elias took a step forward, his voice steady but laced with disappointment. “You’re wrong. And when this is all over, when you’ve burned every bridge and lost everything you thought you gained, you’ll realize that.”

Wolf looked away, unable to meet Elias’s piercing gaze.

“She trusted you,” Elias added, his voice softening. “She looked up to you. And now? You’re just another enemy standing in her way.”

The words hung heavily in the air, the weight of Elias’s disappointment pressing down on Wolf like a physical force. He didn’t respond, his silence a bitter confirmation of his betrayal.

Elias took a deep breath, his anger simmering but no longer threatening to boil over. “You better pray I don’t see you again, Wolf. Because next time, I won’t say anything before I hurt you.”

As Elias walked away, his shoulders tense with anger and disappointment, he didn’t hear the faint, calculated footsteps creeping up behind him. Wolf moved like a shadow, his steps silent, his intentions clear.

Elias had barely a moment to register the sound of movement before he felt the sharp prick of a needle against his neck. His instincts kicked in, and he spun around, his hand reaching for Wolf, but it was already too late. The sedative coursed through his veins with alarming speed, dulling his senses and weakening his limbs.

“You shouldn’t have spoken to me,” Wolf said quietly, his voice cold and devoid of remorse.

Elias stumbled, his vision blurring as his body refused to obey his commands. He managed a glare, his anger burning through the fog overtaking his mind. “You… coward…” he slurred, his voice fading as the sedative took full effect.

Wolf caught Elias before he hit the ground, dragging his limp body down the corridor with practiced ease. He moved quickly, his eyes darting around to ensure they weren’t seen.

Reaching an empty cell deep within the facility, Wolf opened the heavy door and unceremoniously dumped Elias inside. The sound of the door slamming shut echoed in the small space, a grim reminder of Elias’s new predicament.

Wolf stood outside the cell for a moment, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. He told himself it was necessary, that Elias would have jeopardized everything if he’d been allowed to roam free. But deep down, a pang of guilt twisted in his chest.

“I told you, Elias,” Wolf muttered, his voice low. “You don’t understand what it’s like. And you never will.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Elias unconscious and shackled in the cold, sterile confines of the cell.

Chapter 35: Meeting The Experiments.

Summary:

Valeria = My wife.

Valeria strode through the cold corridors of the facility, her sharp heels clicking against the concrete floor. Her expression was unreadable, a carefully crafted mask of indifference that concealed her true intentions. Graves, waiting near the central control room, greeted her with a smug grin.

“Valeria,” Graves drawled, spreading his arms in mock welcome. “I knew you’d come around. Figured you’d want a piece of this operation.”

She stopped a few paces away, crossing her arms. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Graves. I’m here to see what exactly you’re working with. If I’m going to help you, I need to know everything.”

Graves tilted his head, his smile fading slightly. “Fair enough. You’re not much for blind trust, are you?”

She smirked. “You wouldn’t be standing here if I was.”

With a gesture, Graves motioned her to follow. They walked through the dimly lit halls, passing scientists who averted their eyes, muttering to each other in hushed tones. Valeria’s sharp gaze cataloged every detail—the cameras, the guards’ patterns, the keycard locks.

“Impressive setup,” she remarked casually. “And the experiments?”

Graves’ grin returned, more sinister now. “State-of-the-art. Lila and Elias are the crown jewels of the program. A little unruly, but we’re working on that.”.

“They are weapons,” he began, his voice filled with fervor. “Not just assets, but the future of warfare. Imagine soldiers who don’t tire, don’t bleed out, and have the power to crush any enemy with a single strike. That’s what Shepherd and I are building—an army of super-soldiers. And her? She’s the key. Her abilities are… unparalleled.”

Valeria crossed her arms, her expression impassive. “And Elias?”

Graves waved a dismissive hand. “Elias is a loose end. A failed prototype compared to her. But he’s still useful for testing. Once we’re done extracting all the data we can from him, he’ll be disposed of.”

Valeria’s stomach churned, though she kept her face composed. Her disgust was carefully hidden beneath a mask of indifference.

“And?” she pressed, her tone cold and calculated.

Graves leaned closer, his grin widening. “She will be conditioned. Broken, if necessary. Once she’s fully under our control, she’ll be the perfect weapon—loyal, obedient, unstoppable.”

Valeria’s fingers twitched at her sides, her rage threatening to boil over. She wanted nothing more than to draw her weapon and wipe that smug look off Graves’s face. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, she smirked, leaning slightly forward. “Ambitious. Dangerous. I like it,” she purred, her voice laced with feigned approval.

Graves straightened, clearly pleased with her reaction. “I knew you’d see the potential. Stick with me, Valeria, and you’ll be part of something that changes the world.”

Valeria nodded, forcing herself to smile. “Of course, Graves. Keep me informed. I’ll ensure everything on my end runs smoothly.”

As she turned and walked away, her heels echoing down the corridor, her mask of indifference slipped for a moment, revealing the fury simmering beneath.

Graves was a fool. A dangerous, power-hungry fool. And Valeria would make sure his plans unraveled, even if it meant working with people she despised.

Because no one, not even her, could stomach the thought of people being turned into weapons.

As they approached the reinforced cells, Valeria’s heart tightened, though her expression remained stoic. She was led to your cell, where you sat shackled on the floor. Your head was bowed, but Valeria could see the exhaustion and pain etched into your face.

Graves stopped just outside the cell, pressing a button to activate the intercom. “Rise and shine, sunshine. You’ve got a visitor.”

Your head snapped up, your eyes narrowing as you looked first at Graves, then at Valeria. Recognition flared in your gaze, quickly replaced by suspicion.

Valeria stepped forward, her eyes softening just enough to feign sympathy. “So this is the infamous vampire.”

“Who are you?” Your voice was hoarse but laced with defiance.

Valeria crouched slightly, leveling her gaze with yours. “Someone who’s very interested in what they’ve done to you. I wanted to see for myself.”

“Why?” You asked, your tone guarded.

Graves chuckled, leaning against the wall. “Valeria’s got a soft spot for the misunderstood, I guess. Isn’t that right?”

Ignoring him, Valeria studied you closely. “I’ve heard stories. But seeing you here… I can’t say I’m impressed with their hospitality.”

Your chains clinked as you shifted. “If you’re here to pity me, save it.”

A faint smile tugged at Valeria’s lips. “Pity isn’t my style, chiquita. I prefer action.”

Graves clapped his hands, cutting through the tension. “Alright, enough bonding time. Let’s move on. I’ve got more to show you.”

Valeria straightened, her gaze lingering on you for a moment longer. Without a word, she turned and followed Graves down the hall.

As they walked, she spoke casually. “She’s feisty.”

Graves smirked. “She’ll be a weapon when we’re done with her. Just like Elias.”

Valeria didn’t respond, her mind already working through her next steps. She had seen what she needed to see, and now she had a decision to make.

One thing was certain—Graves and Shepherd couldn’t be trusted with you. Not by anyone.

Chapter 36: An unexpected ally.

Notes:

We’re back baby.

In all seriousness, I’m really really sorry about the lack of updates or communication. Life has been really really stressful and difficult but I’m getting back on my feet. Thank you all very much for standing behind me on this project.

I hope you guys love it as much as I do.

The facility was eerily quiet in the dead of night. Valeria moved like a shadow through the labyrinthine halls, her steps silent and precise. She had memorized the guard rotations during her tour with Graves and found the blind spots in the cameras. Getting to your cell unnoticed was almost too easy for someone like her.

Reaching the reinforced door, Valeria glanced over her shoulder, ensuring the coast was clear before pulling a keycard she’d swiped earlier. With a muted beep, the door unlocked, and she slipped inside, closing it behind her.

You sat in the corner of your cell, your knees drawn up to your chest and your chains clinking faintly as you shifted. You looked up at the sound of the door, your eyes narrowing when you saw Valeria.

“You again,” you muttered, your voice hoarse but laced with suspicion. “What do you want now?”

Valeria crouched down a few feet away, keeping her voice low. “Relax, chiquita. I’m not here to hurt you. Quite the opposite, actually.”

You glared at her, not moving. “Why should I believe you? You’re working with Graves.”

Valeria tilted her head, a faint smirk on her lips. “I’m working with myself. Graves just doesn’t know it yet.”

That caught your attention, though you didn't let your guard down. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Valeria said softly, “I’ve been watching and listening. And I know enough to see that you’re not the monster they want to make you out to be. You’re just a girl caught in their web.”

You scoffed. “You think I’m just going to trust you because you say some nice things?”

Valeria’s smirk faded, her tone turning serious. “No. I don’t expect trust. But I thought you’d like to know that your task force hasn’t stopped looking for you. They’re out there, fighting tooth and nail to bring you back. And they’re not alone—Alejandro and Rodolfo are with them.”

Your eyes widened slightly, her breath catching. “They… they’re really coming?”

Valeria nodded, her gaze steady. “Sí. They care about you, chica. More than you know. And I’ll make sure Graves doesn’t see them coming.”

You blinked, tears pooling in your eyes as you tried to process the information. For the first time in days, a flicker of hope stirred in your chest.

“But why are you telling me this?” You asked, your voice trembling. “Why help me?”

Valeria leaned in closer, her expression softening. “Because I’ve seen what Graves and Shepherd are capable of, and I don’t want to be part of it. Whatever they’ve done to you, to Elias… it’s wrong. And I have a feeling that if anyone can bring them down, it’s your team.”

You swallowed hard, the chains around your wrists rattling as you wiped at your face. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Valeria smiled faintly, her usual predatory smirk absent. “I’ve learned a lot. About Graves. About Shepherd. About their plans for you.”

You shook her head. “I know what they want. They don’t care about me. They just want a weapon. I don’t want to be their monster.”

Valeria leaned closer, her voice firm but comforting. “Listen to me. You’re not a monster. You’re a fighter. And I promise you this—I won’t let them turn you into anything else.”

You hesitated, your voice trembling. “How can you stop them? They control everything here. I’m shackled, Valeria. I can’t fight back.”

Valeria’s jaw tightened, anger flashing briefly in her eyes before she softened her expression. “I know you’re scared. But you’re not alone in this. The 141, Alejandro, the Los Vaqueros—they’re all fighting to get you back. And now, I’m on your side too.”

Your lip quivered, and you whispered, “You’re really going to help me?”

Valeria reached out, resting a hand lightly on your knee. “Yes, little one. I’ll make sure you’re safe. I’ll get you back to your team, to the people who love you. Graves and Shepherd will regret ever laying a hand on you.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you nodded, a small spark of hope igniting in your chest. You opened your mouth to thank her again and she shook her head.

Valeria’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “Don’t thank me yet, pequeña. Save it for when we’re out of this hellhole.”

With that, Valeria stood, her expression hardening again as she looked around the cell. “Stay strong. I’ll be back soon. And when I return, we’ll be leaving this place—for good.”

As Valeria slipped back into the shadows, You leaned your head back against the cold wall, your heart pounding. For the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

Until the door swung open.

“Well, well,” Graves drawled, his voice laced with menace. “Seems like you had a visitor. Care to tell me what Valeria was doing here?”

You glared at him, your fear quickly replaced with defiance. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?” You snapped, your voice trembling slightly but steady enough to convey your disdain.

Graves stepped closer, crouching down so you were at eye level. The smug grin on his face sent chills down your spine. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? Here’s the thing, sweetheart. I don’t like games. And I really don’t like being lied to.”

You kept your mouth shut, your jaw tightening as you refused to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Graves’ grin faded, replaced by a cold, calculating look, his foot swung out, kicking you straight in the chest, causing you to let out a cry. “You know, I’ve been trying to decide what to do with you. You’re valuable, sure. But if you’re going to be a problem…” He leaned in closer, his tone dropping to a threatening whisper. “Problems get eliminated.”

Your heart pounded, but you refused to let him see your fear. “Do it, then,” you spat. “Because I’d rather die than be your weapon.”

Graves’ expression darkened, and he grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you to look directly at him. “Careful, girl. You don’t want to test my patience.”

You glared at him, your eyes blazing with anger. “Do your worst, Graves. But I won’t tell you a thing.”

Graves stared at you for a long moment, his grip tightening on your neck. You tried to wriggle out of his grasp, your head spinning before he abruptly let go, pushing you back against the wall. He stood and straightened his jacket, his smirk returning. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But we’ll see how long that lasts.”

As he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder, his voice cold and taunting. “Oh, and one more thing. Your little friends? They won’t find you in time. So enjoy your defiance while you can. It won’t last forever.”

The door slammed shut behind him, and you let out a shaky breath. You felt the sting of his words, but your resolve only hardened. No matter what, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of breaking you. And you wouldn’t stop fighting to reunite with the team you loved.

Chapter 37: Help From A Snake.

Notes:

We’re back.

Fuming from his encounter with you, Graves stormed down the dimly lit hallways of the facility, his frustration boiling over. Your defiance had struck a nerve, and now he needed an outlet. His mind turned to Elias, the experiment he had banked so much on, only to see his loyalty waver.

When he reached Elias’s cell, Graves didn’t wait for formalities. He slammed the door open, startling the guards posted outside. Inside, Elias sat against the wall, his eyes closed in silent defiance.

Graves strode in, his boots scuffing loudly against the concrete floor. “Wake up, you useless traitor,” he barked, his voice venomous.

Elias opened his eyes slowly, fixing Graves with a calm, almost disdainful stare. “What do you want now, Graves? Come to gloat? Threaten me like you did with her?”

Graves narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. “Don’t test me, Elias. I’ve had just about enough of your attitude. You were supposed to be the perfect weapon. And now? You’re nothing but a liability.”

Elias smirked, his calm demeanor only fueling Graves’ rage. “Funny, isn’t it? You make monsters, and then you get upset when they don’t follow orders. Maybe you should’ve thought this through better.”

Graves lunged forward, grabbing Elias by the collar and slamming him back against the wall. “You think this is a joke? I made you! Without me, you’d be nothing. Less than nothing.”

Elias’s smirk faltered for a moment, but his defiance remained. “You didn’t make me, Graves. You just twisted me into what you needed. But I’m still my own person. And I won’t let you use me, or her, anymore.”

Graves released him with a shove, stepping back as his fury mounted. “You think you have a choice in this? You’re mine, Elias. You and her both. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you remember that.”

Elias stood, towering over Graves despite his shackles. “You can try,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “But you’ll never own me. And you’ll never break her. She’s stronger than you think. Stronger than you’ll ever be.”

Graves stared at him, his fists clenching and unclenching as he fought to regain control. Finally, he stepped back, forcing a smirk on his face. “We’ll see, Elias. We’ll see how strong you both are when you’ve got nowhere left to run.”

He turned on his heel and strode out of the cell, slamming the door behind him. Elias sank back to the floor, his heart pounding but his resolve unshaken. Graves might have thought he was in control, but Elias knew better. And he was determined to prove him wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Graves stormed into Shepherd’s office, his anger barely restrained. The dimly lit room felt suffocating under the weight of his fury. Shepherd looked up from his desk, his cold, calculating eyes narrowing as Graves approached.

“Shepherd,” Graves growled, slamming a folder onto the desk. “We’re running out of time. Her defiance, Elias’s betrayal, Valeria snooping around—it’s all spiraling out of control. We need to hit the 141 where it hurts. Give me the coordinates to their safehouse.”

Shepherd leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he considered Graves’s words. “You think storming their safehouse is the solution?” he asked, his tone sharp. “That’s a hornet’s nest you’re kicking, Graves. You better be damn sure you’re ready to deal with the fallout.”

Graves’s jaw tightened, his desperation seeping through his composed mask. “They’re already coming for us, Shepherd. If we don’t act first, we lose everything. Her, Elias, the facility—it’s all gone. Just give me the damn coordinates.”

Shepherd stared at him for a long moment before finally nodding. “Fine. But if this goes south, you’re on your own.” He slid a slip of paper with the coordinates across the desk. “Don’t screw this up, Graves.”

Graves snatched the paper and left without another word, his mind already racing with plans to strike.

Meanwhile, Valeria sat across from Laswell in a dimly lit café, the tension between them palpable.

“You’ve been busy, Valeria,” Laswell said, her tone neutral but her eyes sharp. “What’s your angle in all of this?”

Valeria smirked, leaning back in her chair. “No angle, Laswell. Just a professional interest. Graves and Shepherd have their hands deep in something disgusting, and I want to see it burn. Same as you, no?”

Laswell’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m not in this for revenge or chaos, Valeria. I’m here to get them back safely and put an end to their operation. You can’t expect me to trust you.”

“I don’t need your trust,” Valeria replied smoothly. “Just your cooperation. Your beloved 141, Alejandro, Rodolfo—they’re all in on this. And if you want to save your little vampire, you’ll need all the help you can get. Even mine.”

Laswell’s phone buzzed on the table, a message from Price updating her on the team’s preparations. She sighed and looked back at Valeria. “Fine. For now, we work together. But if you step out of line—”

“Relax, Laswell,” Valeria interrupted, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’ll behave. For now.”

As the two women finalized their plans, the war against Shepherd and Graves edged closer to its breaking point. The 141, Alejandro, Rodolfo, Valeria, and now Laswell were all aligning their forces. The pieces were falling into place, and the final confrontation loomed on the horizon.

Chapter 38: Suicide Missions.

Graves sat in the dimly lit control room, his fingers drumming against the table. Across from him stood Wolf, the man who had betrayed the 141 for the Shadow Company. Graves’s expression was cold, his frustration thinly veiled as he leaned forward.

“Wolf,” Graves began, his voice sharp, “we’re on borrowed time. Shepherd’s losing patience, and that little vampire’s crew is closing in. I need leverage. Real leverage.”

Wolf crossed his arms, his face unreadable. “What’re you thinking?”

Graves smirked. “Gaz. He’s a key piece to their team, Price’s right hand. If we get him, we have a bargaining chip, something to keep them and her distracted while we finish our work here.” 

Wolf’s brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. “You want me to kidnap one of their own? That’s a suicide mission.”

“You’ve proven yourself useful, Wolf,” Graves said, his tone dropping to a menacing calm. “But don’t mistake that for loyalty. You’re expendable, just like anyone else in this operation. You do this, or I’ll make sure Shepherd knows exactly how replaceable you are.”

Wolf’s jaw clenched, but he nodded. “Fine. Where’s the intel on him?”

Graves slid a file across the table. “He’s at their fallback position, north of the last coordinates. Light security, easy pickings. Get in, grab him, and get out before they know what hit them.”

Wolf took the file without another word, his expression dark as he turned and left the room. Graves watched him go, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Let’s see how the 141 handles losing one of their own,” Graves muttered to himself, his plans falling into place.

Unbeknownst to Graves, the 141 was already on high alert, their instincts sharp. Wolf’s betrayal had not gone unnoticed, and Gaz was not as alone as Graves believed. The Shadow Company’s gambit was about to meet resistance far fiercer than they anticipated.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night was quiet, too quiet. The 141's safehouse was hidden deep in a secluded area, but the team's guard was up, tension radiating through the air. Wolf had been biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Gaz was on patrol duty outside, his sharp eyes scanning the perimeter. He had a bad feeling, the kind that made his skin crawl. He gripped his rifle tighter, moving cautiously through the darkness.

Wolf watched from the shadows, waiting for Gaz to pass by. The moment he did, Wolf struck. He lunged out, tackling Gaz to the ground. The two men rolled, fists and weapons clashing as they fought in brutal silence.

Gaz gritted his teeth as he landed a punch to Wolf's jaw. "You traitorous piece of-"

Wolf retaliated, driving his elbow into Gaz's stomach, causing him to stumble. "Don't take it personal, Garrick. It's just business."

Gaz recovered quickly, throwing another punch that split Wolf's lip. Blood dripped down his chin, but Wolf didn't falter. He pulled out a syringe, lunging at Gaz.

Gaz dodged, landing a kick that sent the syringe flying. "You're gonna regret this, Wolf."

But Wolf was relentless. He tackled Gaz again, slamming him into a tree. The impact dazed Gaz just long enough for Wolf to retrieve the syringe.

"I'll give you this," Wolf said, panting. "You put up a hell of a fight."

Before Gaz could respond, Wolf jabbed the syringe into his neck. As the sedative took hold, Gaz’s grip on Wolf weakened, his eyes fluttering shut.

Wolf sat back, wiping blood from his face. His ribs ached. his lip was swollen. and his arm felt like it had been hit by a truck. Gaz hadn't made it easy.

Dragging Gaz's unconscious body to his extraction point, Wolf muttered to himself,

"Graves better appreciate this. Nearly got my head taken off for this mission."

By the time the 141 realized Gaz was missing, it was too late. Wolf was gone, and so was their brother. But the fight wasn't over. They would stop at nothing to bring him back.

Chapter 39: Whatever It Takes.

Notes:

Missed me, guys?

In all seriousness, I am so happy to know that people still read this little fanfic of mine! Also, almost 10K hits?! I was NOT expecting that, but thank you all so so much!

I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and I will try to be a bit more consistent!

Graves strode into your cell with a smug expression plastered on his face, his boots clicking against the cold, sterile floor. Behind him, two Shadow Company operatives dragged an unconscious Gaz into view. His wrists and ankles were bound tightly with thick rope, his head hanging forward as a bruise began to darken his cheek.

Your breath hitched the moment your eyes landed on Gaz. “Gaz!” you cried, struggling against your reinforced restraints. Your voice cracked with panic and fury.

Graves smirked, stepping to the side to give you a clearer view. “Recognize him, sweetheart? Your little Task Force buddy put up quite the fight, but as you can see… not enough.”

Your eyes blazed as you glared at him. “What do you want, Graves?”

Graves crouched down to your level, tilting his head with a mockingly soft smile. “What I want is simple, darlin’. Cooperation. You help me out, play nice, and maybe your precious Gaz here doesn’t get hurt.”

“You’re sick,” You spat, your voice trembling with rage. “He’s done nothing to you!”

Graves chuckled darkly, straightening up. “Oh, I know. This isn’t about him. It’s about you. You’re the key to everything. You think Shepherd and I built this facility for fun? You’ve got potential—real power. And you’re going to use it. Or…”

He glanced at Gaz, his expression turning cold. “Well, accidents happen all the time in places like this.”

You strained against your shackles, your fangs bared as tears of anger filled your eyes. “You touch him, and I swear, Graves, I will rip you apart!”

Graves only smirked, turning his back to you as he signaled the guards to drag Gaz away. “Think about it. Your cooperation, or his life. Clock’s ticking.”

As the door slammed shut, you slumped forward, your body trembling with a mix of rage and despair. Your mind raced, searching for a way to escape and save Gaz. You couldn’t let Graves win—not after everything. Not after everyone you loved had risked so much for you.

Lila sat in the cold confines of your cell, your heart racing as your thoughts spiraled. You clenched your fists, glaring at the spot where Graves had stood moments ago. The image of Gaz, bound and unconscious, burned into your mind.

Your breathing steadied as a plan began to form—a dangerous one, but your only option. With a deep breath, you called out, your voice sharp and resolute.

“Graves! Get back here!”

The cell door opened after a few tense moments, and Graves entered, an eyebrow raised and a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Well, that didn’t take long. Miss me already, sweetheart?”

You ignored the taunt, your eyes burning with determination. “If you let me speak to Gaz, I’ll surrender. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Graves tilted his head, studying you. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” you lied, keeping your voice steady. “Just let me talk to him. Alone. I need to know he’s alive.”

Graves let out a low chuckle, crossing his arms. “You’re in no position to make demands. But… I’ll bite. You get five minutes. Not a second longer. You step out of line, and the deal’s off.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Fine. Five minutes.”

Graves gestured to one of the guards outside, barking orders. “Bring the Task Force kid to her cell. And don’t let him try anything funny.”

As the door closed behind him, your resolve hardened. You had to make this count—for Gaz, for the team, for everyone who had put their faith in you.

The door creaked open, and Gaz was shoved inside, his wrists bound and a bruise forming along his cheekbone. His gaze darted around, taking in everything, until it landed on you, who stood trembling in the middle of the room.

He breathed out your name, his voice filled with relief despite his disheveled state.

Without hesitation, you rushed forward and threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to relax, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you.

“You’re okay,” You whispered, your voice cracking as tears threatened to spill. “You’re okay.”

Gaz leaned down, his voice soft but urgent. “Are you okay? What’s going on here?”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his worried eyes, and quickly wiped your own. “I’m fine. For now. But we don’t have much time. Graves let this happen to make me surrender, but I called him back for a reason.”

Gaz frowned. “What reason?”

You glanced at the camera mounted in the corner, its blinking red light a stark reminder of their lack of privacy. You leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for him to hear. “I’m going to escape. I just need you to hold on a little longer, okay?”

“Escape?” Gaz’s voice lowered as he tried to piece it together. “Do you have a plan?”

You nodded, your grip on his arm tightening. “Elias is helping. I don’t trust him completely, but I don’t have a choice. I’ll find a way to get you and everyone else out of here. I swear.”

Gaz stared at you, his jaw set with determination. “You’re not doing this alone. We’ll get through it together, like we always do.”

Before you could respond, the door burst open, Graves standing there with a smug expression. “Time’s up, lovebirds.”

You released Gaz reluctantly, your gaze locking with his one last time. A silent promise passed between you as the guards dragged him away.

You turned back to Graves, your expression steeled. “Now hold up your end of the deal.”

Graves smirked. “Oh, I will. Don’t worry, darling. You’ll be hearing from me soon enough.”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Just A Sip - AU