The room felt too small for all of us.
Too full of old secrets.
Too heavy with Elliot's last words.
Too sharp with the truth that had finally surfaced.
They hadn't abandoned the project.
They hadn't stopped the search.
They had simply moved on—
to me.
I could still hear Elliot's voice echoing through the fractured recording:
"Elleanore… I'm sorry."
Something inside me cracked in a way that would never fully heal.
Horace's arms stayed around me until my breathing didn't feel like drowning anymore.
He didn't let go.
Not once.
Not even when his bandaged ribs trembled with the effort of holding me up.
Rowan sat curled on the floor, Chandler rubbing gentle circles between his shoulder blades.
Chandler's soft whispering kept Rowan from spiraling completely.
Lucian stood facing the console, jaw tight, expression guarded.
He looked like he wanted to say something but didn't know how.
Or maybe he knew too well.
The silence broke when the vault door beeped.
A low, deep chime.
Rowan flinched violently, instinctively grabbing Chandler's hand.
Lucian tensed.
Horace straightened immediately, pulling me behind him despite the pain shooting up his spine.
"Someone's accessing the hallway," Lucian murmured.
Horace's eyes sharpened.
"Who?"
The vault door slid open—
And three figures in dark uniforms stepped inside.
Crown Wing insignia.
Gold thread.
Night-blue coats.
Gloved hands.
Every person in the room froze.
Rowan's breathing hitched into a broken sound, and Chandler instinctively pulled him close, shielding him like a reflex he didn't question anymore.
Horace growled under his breath.
Lucian's expression hardened.
The lead figure—a tall woman with silver hair and cool, authoritative eyes—stepped forward.
"Elleanore Fonze."
My name sounded like a verdict.
Horace moved in front of me instantly.
"No."
The woman did not acknowledge him at all.
"Elleanore Fonze," she repeated,
"by order of the Crown Wing, you are to report for immediate evaluation."
Rowan flinched at the word evaluation as if it carried pain.
Chandler whispered,
"Stay with me, Rowan. Don't look at them."
Lucian stepped forward, voice calm but sharp:
"Section Head Mirea.
This is not the appropriate time or place.
She is recovering from scent destabilization—"
Mirea didn't look at him.
"The Crown Wing does not wait for your approval, Prince Lucian."
Lucian's jaw twitched almost imperceptibly.
Even he…
even he stepped back.
I couldn't breathe.
Horace lifted his chin.
"She's not going anywhere with you."
Mirea turned her gaze on him.
"Prince Horace Frinton.
You are injured."
"I'm standing," Horace growled.
"You are unstable," she said coolly.
"I'm still standing."
She finally gave him her full attention.
"Move.
Unless you intend to defy the Crown Wing."
Horace smiled without warmth.
"I do."
The temperature in the room dropped.
One of the guards reached for a stun baton.
Horace's stance widened.
Even injured, even shaking, even pale—he radiated danger.
Lucian spoke sharply,
"Do not engage.
Prince Horace is heir to the Crown.
Any harm inflicted on him is an act of treason."
Mirea didn't blink.
"We have orders.
She is to come with us."
Horace stepped forward.
"And I have orders," he hissed.
"She's not leaving this room unless I'm dead."
Rowan whimpered behind Chandler.
"Mirea," Lucian said carefully,
"There has been a breach in procedure. The Crown Wing does not have authority to seize a student without—"
"Without what?" Mirea asked coolly.
"A reason?"
She raised a datapad and read aloud:
"Elleanore Fonze.
Suspected unclassified mutation event.
Involvement in Sigma-class override.
Related to missing subject Elliot Fonze.
Marked as High Priority."
My heart pounded hard enough to hurt.
Horace stepped between her and me, shielding me fully.
"She's not a project," he growled.
"She's a student.
She's mine."
His scent spiked strong enough that it filled the entire vault—
warm
protective
furious.
It made the Crown Wing guards stiffen uneasily.
Chandler's breath caught.
Rowan clung to him harder.
Lucian's eyes narrowed slightly.
Mirea looked at me over Horace's shoulder.
"Elleanore Fonze," she said calmly,
"This is your official summons."
Horace growled so low it shook the air.
"She's not answering that."
But—
Lucian suddenly held up a hand.
"Horace."
It wasn't a warning.
It was something else.
Horace turned sharply.
Lucian's expression had shifted—
not toward fear
or coldness
or politics.
Toward… realization.
"Elleanore," Lucian murmured.
"You need to hear what Aiden said."
I blinked.
"Aiden?"
Cassian stepped into the doorway, eyes red and exhausted.
"Aiden woke up," Cassian whispered.
"He… he remembered something."
Horace's grip on my wrist tightened.
"What did he remember?"
Cassian swallowed hard.
"He remembered the thing that dragged Elliot out of the room."
The air dropped to ice.
Rowan's entire body froze.
Chandler stopped breathing entirely.
Mirea's eyes sharpened.
Cassian continued, voice cracking:
"Aiden said it wasn't a person."
"What was it?" I whispered.
Cassian's lips trembled.
"A smell."
Lucian stiffened.
Horace's eyes narrowed.
Cassian whispered:
"He said the thing that dragged Elliot away…
smelled like you."
The world tilted sideways.
Rowan choked on a breath.
Chandler grabbed him before he collapsed.
Horace turned completely toward me, searching my face.
"Elleanore—hey—look at me—look at me—"
But I couldn't breathe.
Couldn't think.
Couldn't stop the cold that spread through my chest.
"No," I whispered.
"That's impossible—Aiden is confused—he was injured—"
But Cassian shook his head.
"Aiden said he could never forget that scent.
He said it was warm—sweet—sharp.
Not like yours exactly, but close enough.
Close enough that he thought—"
"Stop."
The word croaked out of me.
Cassian didn't stop.
"He thought it was you coming into the room.
He reached for Elliot.
Called out your name."
Tears blurred my vision.
Horace moved toward me, hands reaching gently for my face—
But he didn't touch me.
Not yet.
"Elleanore," he whispered.
"This isn't you.
You know that.
You know that."
I swallowed down the rising panic.
"I didn't do anything."
"Of course you didn't," he said immediately.
Rowan whispered brokenly from the floor.
"But your scent…
your line…
your genome…"
Chandler held him tightly as Rowan trembled.
Mirea stepped closer.
"Elleanore Fonze.
The Crown Wing must examine your scent evolution.
Only then can we determine if this mutation is connected."
Horace snarled,
"She's not your lab experiment."
"All Omegas with scent mutation events must be evaluated."
"She's not going."
"She must."
"No."
Lucian finally spoke again.
"Elleanore."
His voice was strangely steady.
"If you refuse the summons…
the Crown will forcibly take you."
Mirea nodded.
"Worse, they may target the boys who tried to protect you."
Rowan's breath caught.
Cassian froze.
Chandler stiffened.
Horace growled,
"They'll have to go through me."
Mirea met his gaze.
"Yes.
And they will."
Horace inhaled sharply.
The whole vault vibrated with the danger between them.
Then—
Lucian murmured:
"Elleanore…
only you can decide."
Every eye turned to me.
Horace.
Rowan.
Chandler.
Cassian.
Lucian.
Everyone waiting.
Everyone terrified of what my choice would cause.
My throat tightened.
I whispered:
"If I go with you…
will they leave my friends alone?"
Mirea did not hesitate.
"Yes."
Horace grabbed my wrist.
"No—no—Elleanore—don't—don't you dare—"
I turned to him.
His eyes were full—
fear
rage
desperation
and something deeper, something raw and protective and breaking.
"Horace," I whispered,
"They'll hurt all of you if I refuse."
"I don't care."
His voice cracked.
"I'll fight the entire Crown Wing myself if I have to—
just don't go where I can't follow—don't go—please don't—"
His hand trembled around mine.
Rowan cried softly into Chandler's shoulder.
Chandler bit his lip so hard he nearly bled.
Cassian looked torn between screaming and collapsing.
I squeezed Horace's hand.
"You'll find me," I whispered.
"I know you will."
His lips parted—shaking, breathless.
"Elleanore—"
But there was no time.
Mirea stepped forward.
"Elleanore Fonze.
You have answered the summons."
Horace's voice broke.
"No—NO—"
Guards approached.
Horace lunged, but his body gave out from the pain—
and Lucian had to catch him.
"HORACE—!!" I cried.
Lucian held him by the shoulder.
"Don't make this worse."
Horace fought against him.
"DON'T TAKE HER—
DON'T TAKE HER—
ELLEANORE—DON'T—GO—"
Mirea touched my shoulder lightly.
"Come with us."
I looked back—
at Horace struggling in Lucian's grip
at Rowan crying in Chandler's arms
at Cassian trembling by the doorway.
And I stepped toward the Crown Wing officers.
My voice shook as I whispered:
"I'm ready."
Horace screamed my name.
The door shut between us.
And everything went dark.
The Crown Wing Takes Her
The elevator ride felt too quiet.
Too long.
Too cold.
Too sterile.
Three Crown Wing officers flanked me—
two behind, one ahead—
but none touched me.
Not yet.
Not unless I resisted.
They didn't look at me either.
They faced forward with perfect discipline, as if escorting a prisoner they didn't want to acknowledge as human.
The elevator descended deeper.
Past the medical wing.
Past the storage floors.
Past the lower labs.
A floor so deep I hadn't known existed.
CROWN WING – SUBLEVEL ZERO
The metal doors hissed open.
A blast of cold, filtered air greeted me.
Bright, sterile light washed over everything—no shadows, no softness, no warmth.
My knees trembled.
Not from fear.
From something quieter, heavier:
The memory of Elliot.
Being dragged out of a room just like this.
Screaming.
Calling for me.
I swallowed hard.
I won't end like you, I vowed silently.
I won't let them break me.
The lead officer—Section Head Mirea—walked ahead without looking back.
"This way."
Her voice echoed off metal walls.
I followed.
THE CROWN WING CORRIDOR
It wasn't a hallway.
It was a tunnel.
Perfect white lighting.
Glass walls revealing rooms full of machines I didn't recognize—
silver pods
scent scanners
pheromone stabilizers
restraint tables
and cold, unblinking monitors.
Every room was spotless.
Every room looked like a place where people weren't treated,
but studied.
My stomach twisted.
Ahead of me, the officers stopped at a metal door labeled:
OBSERVER ROOM – 17
SUBJECT: FONZE (E.) – CLOSED CASE
SUBJECT: FONZE (ELLEANORE) – ACTIVE
The lettering felt like a slap.
Elliot's case.
My case.
My breath caught.
Mirea typed a code.
The door opened.
Inside was a small observation room.
A single chair.
A single table.
Glass wall facing a larger chamber filled with machinery.
I froze.
That chamber—
the cold, white room behind the glass—
it looked exactly like the one from Elliot's video.
The one he'd been dragged out of.
My body stiffened.
My lungs wouldn't fill properly.
Mirea turned to me.
"You will stay here."
I didn't move.
"Why?" I whispered.
"Observation.
We will analyze your scent levels and pheromone responses, then determine if a full evaluation is required."
A cold chill swept up my spine.
"A full evaluation?" I echoed.
Mirea's gaze flicked to the glass window behind me.
"Yes.
A physical and genetic instability assessment."
I gripped the doorframe.
"That's what you did to my brother."
Her expression didn't change.
"The Crown Wing does not discuss past subjects."
"I'm not a subject."
"You are now."
My vision blurred with fury and fear.
"I want to see Horace," I said, voice shaking but strong.
"No."
"I wasn't asking permission."
"You were stating an impossibility."
My chest tightened sharply.
Mirea stepped closer.
"Elleanore Fonze," she said coolly,
"if Prince Horace enters this floor, his heart rate spikes will destabilize his recovery and he may die from internal hemorrhaging.
You will not see him tonight."
The air vanished from my lungs.
Horace—
He'd fought until he collapsed.
Fought until Lucian had to catch him.
Fought even while barely conscious.
And now—
he wasn't allowed near me.
My knees nearly buckled.
But I inhaled slowly, forcing steadiness.
"Fine," I whispered.
"Then start whatever this is."
Mirea didn't move.
"Elleanore," she said quietly,
"There is something you need to understand before we begin."
The other officers shifted, their stances subtly rigid.
"Your brother did not die because he was dangerous."
I went still.
"He died," she continued softly,
"because he was changing.
And we did not understand how to save him."
I stared.
Cold.
Unblinking.
Breathless.
"Liar," I whispered.
Mirea didn't blink.
"You may believe what you wish."
Her next words hit like a blade.
"But what we saw in him…
we see in you tenfold."
My heart twisted.
I hated the fear crawling under my skin.
I hated that she had the right to feel afraid of me.
I hated that I didn't know what was happening to me.
But I forced myself forward.
"I'm ready."
She nodded once.
"Begin observation."
BACK IN THE HOSPITAL — CHAOS ERUPTS
HORACE
Horace slammed his fist against the wall.
He didn't feel the pain.
He only felt the absence.
"Elleanore—ELLEANORE—"
Lucian grabbed him by the arm.
"Horace—calm down—"
"DON'T TOUCH ME!"
But Lucian held on.
Hard.
"If you tear your stitches again," Lucian snarled,
"you will bleed out before you reach the elevator."
Horace's breath heaved in his chest.
"They took her."
"I know."
"They took—HER."
Lucian looked him dead in the eye.
"And you can't go after her right now."
Horace's entire body shook.
Every instinct screamed to break every rule, every door, every bone in the Crown Wing until he found her.
"Lucian—" he rasped,
"They'll hurt her.
They'll destroy her.
They took Elliot—
they took Elliot and now—now—"
Lucian held his shoulders.
"And she made a choice."
Horace's eyes stung with fury.
"Because she wanted to protect us!"
"Yes," Lucian said quietly.
"And now you need to protect her."
Horace swallowed hard.
"How?"
Lucian inhaled slowly.
"I have an idea."
Horace froze.
Lucian rarely said those words.
Especially when the idea wasn't political, but personal.
"Tell me," Horace whispered.
Lucian leaned closer.
And told him.
Horace's expression shifted—
pain
fear
defiance
and a terrifying resolve.
"Fine," Horace said, voice cold.
"Then I'll do it."
ROWAN — BREAKING POINT
Rowan sat curled on the hospital floor, trembling uncontrollably.
Chandler held him tightly.
"Hey—hey—look at me—Rowan—breathe—breathe—"
Rowan shook his head violently.
"No—no—no—
they took her—
they took her like they took—
like they took—"
Chandler cupped his cheeks gently.
"Rowan.
You're not there.
You're not back there.
You're here."
Rowan gasped through his tears.
"They're going to do to her what they did to Elliot—
what they did to me—
I can't—I can't watch it happen—I can't—"
"Then you won't watch," Chandler whispered.
Rowan whimpered.
"But what if she never comes back—what if—"
Chandler grabbed both his hands and pulled him against his chest.
"Rowan.
I'm going to say this once—
and I want you to believe me."
Rowan shuddered violently.
"Okay," he whispered.
Chandler pressed his forehead to Rowan's.
"We're going to get her back."
Rowan's tears soaked into his shirt.
Chandler held him tighter.
"We're not losing her.
Not like Elliot."
AIDEN — MEMORY EMERGES
Aiden lay in the hospital bed, chest rising unevenly.
Cassian sat beside him, holding his hand tight.
Aiden stirred.
"Cass…"
"I'm here," Cassian whispered.
Aiden looked toward the door, toward the direction Elleanore had been taken.
"I remember something else."
Cassian straightened.
"What?"
Aiden's voice dropped to a shaky whisper.
"When… the scent dragged Elliot away…"
His eyes flickered with fear.
"There were voices."
Cassian's blood ran cold.
"What voices?"
Aiden swallowed.
"A man said:
'Take the subject. Forget the sister.'"
Cassian's breath cracked.
Aiden gripped his hand harder.
"And then another voice said…
'She's not ready yet.'"
Cassian felt cold.
Aiden trembled.
"They knew about her.
From the beginning."
Cassian hugged him immediately.
"It's okay—it's okay—I've got you—"
But Aiden shook his head.
"No.
You don't understand.
The scent that dragged Elliot…
it wasn't hers."
Cassian froze.
Aiden looked up.
"It was someone else's scent.
Someone with a similar signature.
Someone connected to her."
Cassian whispered:
"Then who—?"
Aiden's voice cracked.
"I think…
I think it was a failed version.
Before her."
Cassian's heart dropped.
"Another like her?"
Aiden nodded weakly.
"And they want her because she's the one that survived."
BACK IN THE CROWN WING
The observation room lights brightened.
Mirea's voice echoed through the speaker.
"Elleanore Fonze.
Stand in the center of the room."
I stepped into the circle on the floor.
Machines hummed.
Walls glowed with scanning patterns.
My breathing steadied—
not from calm
but from something sharper.
Cold resolve.
For Elliot.
For Horace.
For Cassian.
For Rowan.
For Aiden.
For Chandler.
And for myself.
Mirea watched.
"Begin sequence."
Glass slid shut around the observation platform.
Screens flickered to life.
A faint mist filled the air.
My scent reacted instantly.
The sensors flashed with readings.
Mirea murmured to her assistants.
"Already unstable…
Scent concentration rising…
Her baseline is not Omega.
It's something else."
My eyes widened.
The mist thickened.
My pulse spiked.
And the machine lights turned deep red.
Mirea's voice dropped.
"…It's evolving."
Heat surged up my back.
My vision blurred.
My veins felt like they were burning.
"Stop—STOP—" I gasped.
Mirea watched with scientific detachment.
"Elleanore Fonze, remain still.
This is part of the analysis."
The heat shot higher.
My legs buckled.
I grabbed the glass.
"Mirea—
stop—
PLEASE—"
And then—
A sharp, blistering pain erupted under my skin.
Like something trying to break out.
Like something waking up.
I screamed—
And every machine in the room shorted out at once.
Lights burst.
Panels flickered.
The entire chamber glowed with unstable energy.
A siren blared.
ALERT: SUBJECT DESTABILIZING.
CONTAINMENT BREACH RISK.
Mirea's voice cracked with sudden alarm.
"Shut it down!
SHUT IT DOWN!"
My vision blurred white.
My senses exploded.
My scent spiked so violently that all the officers stumbled back.
Mirea covered her mouth.
"…Impossible."
I collapsed to my knees, gasping—
And in the moment before consciousness slipped away—
I saw something flash in the glass reflection behind me.
A silhouette.
Tall.
Unfamiliar.
Watching.
Not human.
Something with my scent.
And then everything went dark.