Page 309 of Immune

The honesty slaps harder than his comfort would have.

“Can I trigger again?”

Mercer sighs as his face grows tight again. “It’s possible.”

The bond reacts to that. Both of them. Ewan’s fear flashing like a neon sign in the dark while Kaito’s restraint clamps down so hard I feel it in my gums.

Across the room, Xeon finally moves. It’s only one step away from the wall, and it’s not toward me. It’s toward Hale, which is a small but important difference. Hale notices, and so do I.

That absence in my chest aches again.

No thread.

No pull.

Just Xeon choosing the same side anyway.

My throat burns and I look down at my hands. I don’t even know when I realized how deeply I wanted these men, but now it’s sitting heavy on my shoulders with the weight of everything else trying to bury me in the dirt.

I run my eyes over my fingers. Cleaner now, and still mine. When I lift my head, the whole room seems to be waiting.

Some of them see hope.

Mercer, with his grief-struck eyes and careful eyes.

Ellis, who looks like she hates herself for even considering the possibilities.

Valeria, practical and grim.

Some see danger. Like Hale. Maybe others outside this door. Maybe the whole shit-sucking compound by morning.

And some will see an asset. They always do. They’ll use a better word for it, like future, cure, protection, necessity. But I know how to identify a cage even when someone paints it gold and decorates it with ribbons. I’ve always known, since the moment Maine left and I had to learn how to identify the shape of the bars under the cheap tricks.

“No,” I say shortly.

Hale's eyebrows draw together. “No?”

“No to whatever you’ve already started building in your head.”

“Kota—”

“I said no,” I repeat, my voice steady and strong despite the way everything inside me is trembling. “I’ll help, because I’m not stupid. I’m not that selfish. If my blood can help people not turn, I’m not going to sit here and pretend like that doesn't matter. Like it’s not important.”

Mercer goes very still and Maine looks as though he wants to argue and hug me all at the same time.

“But,” I continue, “I’m not your fucking cure. I’m not your little test subject. I’m not your grand future you’re already envisioning. I’m not an asset, a weapon, a solution, or a thing you get to lock behind a door and call hope.”

No one dares interrupt.

Smart.

“I’ll give blood,” I say.

Maine’s head snaps toward me. “Dakota.”

“One vial,” I add, looking at Mercer only. “You take it in front of me. You label it with my name. You tell me exactly what you’re testing for before you even test it. No codes. No secret samples. No sharing it with anyone outside this room unless I agree to it.”

Slowly, Mercer nods.