Page 365 of Immune

Another voice says an Omega went missing from the east road.

Vector’s cages aren’t just a theory anymore. They had ghosts, and some of those ghosts had names.

Hale looks around as the compound starts turning on him. Finally. Fucking finally. Valeria raises a hand, and her guards close around him. “Until trial, he remains contained.”

Hale only struggles once. “You’re making a mistake. She cannot be allowed to decide for everyone.”

Dakota sags slightly and I reach out to her. This time, she lets me take her hand. Her fingers are cold, but still fierce.

She looks at Hale one last time and smiles at him. That one is full of pity, hatred, and something beautiful I lock away in the vault of my memories. “I’m not deciding for everyone. I’m deciding for me.”

Hale is dragged back toward command then, and the crowd doesn’t part willingly or kindly. Good. He deserves to feel every stare. He deserves to understand that power only looks permanent until the room stops kneeling at your feet.

Dakota’s grip tightens around mine, then loosens.

“Medical. Now,” Mercer says, already moving.

Dakota groans. “Oh, come on, man. I made a speech. I deserve a cookie or something.”

“You need fluids,” Mercer argues.

“Cookie-shaped fluids,” she tries and I almost laugh.

“Dakota.”

“What? Soup exists for a reason.”

Ellis shifts her medical bag higher on her shoulder. “If she says cookie or soup one more time, I’m going to start sedating everyone standing in this courtyard.”

Dakota’s eyes narrow on the fiery redhead. “Can she do that?”

Mercer sighs. “No.”

Ellis says nothing at all, which is seriously the least comforting thing she’s ever done.

I crouch in front of Dakota when she lowers herself messily to the step. “Come on, Tiny Terror. Let the man stab you with some helpful needles.”

Her eyes crack open after closing without her really meaning to. “Why did you make that sound so romantic?”

“I’m Welsh,” I tell her. “We can make anything sound as tragic and as damp as the weather. Just wait ’til you hear my sonnet about Tetley tea.”

Her mouth curves, a tiny and exhausted thing, but it’s there. It’s still there and it’s gorgeous.

Maine pulls her back into his side and huffs a broken laugh into her hair. Fletcher bends and presses his mouth to the top of her hat, eyes closed. Kaito touches two fingers to the inside of her wrist, counting her pulse like a prayer.

Xeon stands close, silent as ever, and Dakota’s gaze drifts to him. Something passes between them that isn’t mine to name. It’s not heat or need, but something quieter. Unfinished.

Xeon tilts his head like a promise without the words.

Not yet.

Soon, maybe.

But not here.

Not while the whole compound watches.

Not while she’s barely upright and still fighting off a truckload of drugs.