Page 48 of Examining the Bond

“Yes?” I blurt, straightening my tie. “Come in.”

I expect to see one of the nurses, but a lanky lab tech pokes his head in the door.

“Your sequencing is finished, Dr. Morales,” he says. “Figured I’d let you know on my way out.”

“Thanks, Zakk.”

Adrenaline slams into me as he closes the door again, and I reach for my laptop with shaky fingers. It takes seconds to loginto the research center database, but it feels like much longer. My body is threatening to vibrate apart at the seams, and I can’t seem to move fast enough.

A few clicks and the link to a massive zip file appears, glowing in the middle of my screen like a ray of hope. I brace myself, taking a deep breath, and then wait for the sequence to load.

Everything so far has led to this moment, and my chest constricts with the possibilities. Riann’s life—and mine—could all change in a matter of minutes.

The first page of the file is a colorful diagram of chromosome 8, each line representative of what makes Riann exactly who she is. It’s always been fascinating to me how something so complicated as a human can be broken down into billions of letters on a screen.

My eyes jump to the part of the chromosome where the alpha and omega genes reside, searching in vain for either marker. I’m not surprised at all when neither is turned on, but I had to be sure. Reassured, I comb over the surrounding area, zooming in and looking for unusual markers I’ve never seen before.

Blood pounds in my ears as my eyes rove over the data, and my heart trips over itself when I notice an unfamiliar marker lit up on the screen. It’s equidistant between where the alpha and omega markers should be.

“That’s not possible,” I whisper to the empty room, trying to understand what I’m looking at.

My head spins as reality crashes around me, and I sit back in my chair, unable to tear my eyes from the screen.

Whatever this gene is, I’ve never seen it before. It shouldn’t be there, and yet…there it is.

What does it mean? I don’t know.

All I can think about is Riann—my sweet, precious omega—and what this means for her. That, as she feared, she’snotan omega. Her blood tests weren’t wrong, she lacks the alpha andomega compounds in her blood, but it didn’t tell us anything else because we don’t have a test forwhatever the hell that is.

I force an unsteady breath and run trembling fingers through my hair. I can’t breathe, and I can’t think, faced with this new information.

My phone pings, but I barely hear it. My pulse is pounding in my ears, and I’m struggling to keep up with my whirling thoughts. I’ve never had a panic attack, but I’m pretty sure I’m on the brink of one. I drag Riann’s tank top out of the top drawer of my desk and bring it to my nose, inhaling deeply to calm myself.

Once my anxiety has settled, I reach for my phone and find a message from her.

Riann: Any news?

Fuck. I stare at those two simple words, and my stomach knots.

I want to tell her what I found, even though I’m not sure what it is yet, but that’s too heavy of a topic to broach over a text. I could call her, but it still feels too impersonal.

I could go to her room…

But then what? I’d drop this bombshell on her and expect her to be just peachy afterward. Would I end up holding her as she sobs all night?

I wouldn’t mind—I’d do whatever she needs me to do—but that still feels unfair. The responsible thing to do is wait until she comes into the office tomorrow. It’s professional, respectable. It’s what I’m supposed to fucking do. It’s what I would do for any other patient…

No, I can’t go to her room, and I can’t tell her about any of this until she’s here at the clinic. No matter how badly I want to.

Working my jaw back and forth, I punch the call button and put the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” She answers a beat later.

“Hey,” I say, trying to keep the nerves out of my voice. “What are you doing?”

“Just watching TV; there’s not much else to do here at the hotel.” She pauses. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is…” My voice trails off before I can lie and tell her everything is fine. I quickly backtrack and try again. “No real news yet, but we’re making progress.” I wince; that’ll have to be good enough. “I wanted to call and apologize instead of just texting you. Something came up, so I won’t be able to see you after work today.”