Page 382 of Immune

Dakota O’Reilly.

Not asset. Not sample. And not miracle. Mine.

The first changes happen before sunset. Small ones but real ones. A guard knocks before entering the medical office and looks mildly traumatized when Ellis tells him he “may proceed like a civilized mammal.”

Two senior officers are removed from duty while Valeria digs into Hale’s friends.

Mercer locks the sample fridge with three keys and gives one to me.

I hold it in my palm, cold and sharp-edged. A key to my own blood. What, and I couldn’t possibly fathom how to stress this enough, the fuck?

“This is weird,” I say.

Mercer nods. “Yes.”

“I kind of love it.”

The doctor pauses. “That kind of concerns me.”

“As it should, Mercer. As it should.”

By the time evening falls after another day in the apocalypse, I’m outside under a sky full of thin clouds and stubborn stars. The compound smells like damp earth, smoke, disinfectant, and dinner that someone is definitely burning. Not that I can complain, because it’s an actual dinner. Like, real dinner. Not just soup in a can or dry noodles that have been out of date for four years.

My pack sits around me without turning into walls.

Fletcher sits on the step below mine, shoulder near my knee. Kaito sits beside him, sharpening a blade with slow, even strokes. Ewan leans back on his elbows, headphones over one ear and the other free so he can still listen. Xeon sits beside me, close enough that our sleeves touch. And then there’s my brother, who sits on my other side.

For once, no one stands in front of me. No one blocks the view, no one makes my safety look like a locked door.

I look at Haven Ridge. I look at the fence. The gate. The people moving behind it like life has the nerve to keep going. For six years, survival meant hiding. It meant hair hidden. Scent dead. Doors locked. Now everyone knows what I am.

Omega.

Immune, maybe.

Bonded.

Still here.

And somehow, I am not looking for a way to run. You can’t convince me that’s not deeply suspicious. I won’t believe you if you tried.

Ewan bumps my ankle with his boot. “What’s happening in that terrifying little head?”

“Cookie policies. Cure ethics. Possible curtains,” I answer without really thinking about it.

Fletcher smiles slowly and it makes me feel like I stepped into something I shouldn’t have. “Curtains?”

“Our room looks like a bunker had a breakdown,” I tell him seriously, nodding like it’s obvious.

Kaito’s gaze lifts. “Our room?”

Oh hell. That’s what I walked into. Damn it. Heat climbs into my face, which is actually rude, ridiculous, and wildly unnecessary after last night. How the hell can I even blush after that? What is even wrong with me?

“Yes,” I say blandly. “Our room.”

The bonds warm, all four of them. Not claiming, just answering.

Maine groans. “I need fresh air.”