Page 380 of Immune

“No samples while I’m asleep, sedated, in heat, badly injured, or too out of it to understand what I’m saying.”

Ellis nods once. Sharp. “Good.”

I glance at her. “Was… was that approval?”

“I don’t do approval. I’m mostly scorn and irritation.”

“That was definitely approval,” I argue, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I will poison your toast.”

“At least you’re honest about it,” I shrug.

Mercer keeps writing.

“If I want my pack present, they’re present,” I say. “You can make them wear gloves or stand behind a line or whatever medical nonsense makes you feel crisp and pure on the inside. But they leave only if I say so.”

“Agreed.”

“No secret labels. No codes. No pretending I’m just Sample O or Immune Subject One because my name makes people uncomfortable.”

Mercer looks up. “Dakota O’Reilly. Full name. Full record. Full consent attached.”

My chest does the stupid too-full thing again and I nod.

“No outside transfers without my permission,” I continue. “No sending my blood, my files, my test results, or anything with my name on it to another compound, old NOVAC contacts, mystery councils, or anyone who thinks ethics is a decorative cushion. Whatever research we do here stays here.”

Valeria says, “I’ll have that written into the new research charter.”

I blink. “We have a research charter?”

“We will,” she promises with a whole lot of conviction that surprises me.

“Check me out, building trauma paperwork,” I mutter, shaking my head.

“You’re rewriting the rules,” Fletcher says quietly.

I look back at him. His blue eyes are steady. Proud, maybe. I literally have to look away before that can hurt nicely.

“No Omega testing without protection and choice,” I continue before I end up having a breakdown I’ve been fighting off since I was sixteen and defenseless and alone. “No locked rooms. No forced heat triggers. No suppressants slipped into food. No using fear as consent. No bites without permission. No treating Omegas like they owe the world their bodies because everyone else is scared.”

The room goes quiet at that. Even Ewan doesn’t joke. Mercer’s pen stops. Then he says, “No repeating NOVAC’s original sins in the name of fixing them.”

I breathe out. “That. That’s exactly it.”

Valeria’s face is grim. “Done.”

Maine moves then. Not toward the door but toward me. The moment he’s close enough, he crouches in front of my chair like I might run if he stands too tall. “Kota.”

My name sounds broken in his mouth. I hate that. But I also kind of love that. Stupid sibling feelings. Whoeverinvented them honestly deserves a very strongly worded letter accompanied with a bite that would leave a mean scar.

“I don’t like it,” he says.

“I know.”

“I want to say no.”

“I know that too.”