The room stank of smoke and antiseptic.Time was bleeding out.
Silas was convulsing on the floor, veins blackening under paper-thin skin. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one tighter than the last.
"There has to be another way—"He writhed."Something else—"
Sienna didn't answer.
She tore a scalpel from the tray.No hesitation. No ceremony.
The blade bit deep across her wrist. Crimson spilled like prophecy.
"Shut up and swallow."Her voice cracked, but her grip didn't.
She shoved her bleeding arm against his lips.
At first, he resisted—weakly, blindly. Then—
His mouth opened.
And he drank.
Her blood hit his system like wildfire.Laced with the antidote strain she'd engineered from Veritas's own code—her final, desperate gamble.
His body spasmed once.Then twice.Then—
Stillness.
His pupils blew wide, then shrank to focus.
"Sienna…"He exhaled her name like a prayer.His hands rose—not in hunger, but in awe.They cradled her wrist with terrifying gentleness, as though she were the cure to the world itself.
From the corner of the lab, K emerged from shadow, rifle slung low, face hidden beneath the matte-black mask.
"The teacher suspected this," he said flatly."Your blood.Her poison.A perfect balance."
Sienna's legs buckled. The room tilted sideways.
But before she hit the ground—Silas caught her.
With new strength, he swept her into his arms, his grip steady, his breath smooth.
No cough. No tremor. No hesitation.
"My turn to carry you," he whispered, mouth at her hairline."And I'm not letting go."
Sienna's fingers curled weakly around the collar of his shirt.She tried to smile.Failed.But he saw it anyway.