The tunnel swallowed the last echo of the Prime Subject's voice.
Silence pressed in from every side—heavy, suffocating, carrying the weight of everything unsaid.
Horace sagged against me, breath rasping.
His knees buckled.
"Horace—!" I caught him just before he collapsed.
Lucian swore and knelt beside us.
"He's done. His body's shutting down."
"No—no—no—" I whispered, pulling Horace closer. "Stay with me, stay awake—please—"
Horace tried to open his eyes.
Tried to speak.
"Elleanore…"
His voice was a broken whisper.
"…you… smell scared."
I almost laughed through the panic.
"I am scared," I whispered fiercely.
He tried to smirk, but it collapsed into a sharp wince.
Chandler gently lowered Rowan onto one of the battered tunnel steps. Rowan clung to him with trembling hands, eyes swollen, breath erratic.
Lucian rose to his feet.
"We need to move before that thing comes back."
His voice was steady—
but his hands were shaking.
Chandler nodded tightly.
"Give me two seconds. Rowan's having trouble breathing."
Rowan was shaking so violently he could barely hold onto Chandler's sleeve.
"It… it's my fault," Rowan whispered suddenly.
"It's my fault Elliot disappeared.
I saw the silhouette that night—
I saw his shadow—
I smelled that same scent—
I didn't—I didn't warn anyone—"
His tears fell silently, pooling on his knees.
"I didn't say anything because no one believed me before.
They called me crazy.
They said I was imagining it.
They said my scent hallucinations were just trauma.
So I shut up.
I shut up, and Elliot—Elliot—"
He broke down, covering his face.
Chandler immediately wrapped both arms around him, pulling him tight.
"Hey—hey—"
Chandler's voice cracked and turned raw.
"Rowan. Look at me."
Rowan wouldn't.
Chandler gently pried Rowan's hands away from his face and cupped his cheeks.
"You did nothing wrong."
Rowan sobbed harder.
"No—yes I did—"
"No," Chandler said again, firmer this time.
"You were a terrified kid who survived something unimaginable.
You weren't supposed to protect anyone.
You weren't supposed to fight for anyone.
You were just supposed to survive."
Rowan pressed his forehead against Chandler's shoulder, sobbing quietly.
Chandler closed his eyes.
"And you did."
Lucian's jaw tightened.
His voice softened—something rare.
"Rowan… you weren't wrong."
He looked down the dark tunnel.
"That thing… that smell… you recognized it because you did see it before."
Rowan whimpered.
Chandler tightened his hold.
But Horace—
Horace tried again to lift his head toward Rowan, his voice barely audible.
"Rowan… none of us… blame you."
Rowan's eyes widened.
His breath caught.
Hearing it from Horace—
someone raised inside the Crown
someone who had always seemed untouchable—
It broke something in him.
In a good way.
In a healing way.
He whispered,
"…I'm sorry."
Chandler kissed his forehead.
"You don't need to be."
HORACE COLLAPSES
Horace slumped sideways, breath wheezing painfully.
I barely caught him.
"Lucian!" I cried.
Lucian was already there.
"He's hemorrhaging internally. He won't last an hour without treatment."
"No," I whispered, voice breaking.
"No—no—please—no—"
Horace reached weakly toward me.
"Elleanore…"
"I'm here," I whispered, choking on tears.
"I'm right here."
He touched my cheek with blood-slick fingers.
"You… promise… you won't go… with that thing…?"
My throat closed.
"I won't."
He exhaled shakily—relieved, even while in agony.
Lucian peeled back the soaked bandages.
"We need to stop the bleeding."
"How?" Chandler asked, trying not to look horrified by Horace's worsening condition.
Lucian reached into a small emergency pouch clipped to his belt.
"This," he said quietly, pulling out a compressed vial with a silver cap,
"is a Bloodline Lock."
Chandler frowned.
Rowan stiffened.
"What's that?" I asked, voice small.
Lucian hesitated.
"It's… forbidden.
Royal-grade regenerative suppressant.
It can stabilize torn tissue and slow bleeding—but it only works on people with royal markers."
I froze.
Horace was a prince.
Lucian held the vial out to me.
"Elleanore.
You have to inject it.
His body will resist anyone else's hand except a bonded presence."
My face went hot.
Bonded.
We weren't bonded.
But the instinct thread between us—
the one we never talked about
the one that kept pulling us closer—
Lucian had seen it.
He placed the vial in my shaking hand.
"Elleanore.
He needs you.
Right now.
Only you."
I knelt beside Horace.
His eyes fluttered open when he felt me near.
"Elleanore…"
His voice was softer now.
"Why… are you crying…?"
I swallowed hard.
"Because you're an idiot," I whispered.
He let out a weak, breathless laugh.
"I know."
Lucian pressed a hand against my shoulder.
"When you inject it, hold him down. He will seize. It'll hurt."
Rowan covered his mouth, trembling.
Chandler held him tighter.
Horace looked at me—
not afraid
not angry
not even in pain.
He looked at me like I was the only thing anchoring him to life.
"Elleanore," he whispered again.
"Come closer."
I leaned in.
He brushed his forehead against mine—
a soft, instinctive gesture.
"I trust you," he murmured.
My breath broke.
I lifted the vial.
Lucian nodded.
"Now."
I pressed the injector to Horace's side and—
CLICK.
Horace's entire body seized.
He arched, teeth clenched, a raw sound tearing from his throat.
I held him tight—
arms around him,
forehead pressed to his shoulder,
whispering,
"It's okay—it's okay—I've got you—"
Lucian steadied his legs.
Chandler shielded Rowan from the worst of it.
Finally—
the spasms slowed.
Horace collapsed forward into me.
Breathing.
Barely.
But breathing.
I stroked his hair shakily.
"You're okay," I whispered, tears falling.
"You're okay, Horace. I'm here."
His fingers curled weakly into my shirt.
"…Promise… you won't… leave…"
I pressed my cheek to his.
"I'm not going anywhere."
His breathing eased.
He slipped into a faint.
Lucian exhaled heavily.
"He'll live. For now."
I tightened my hold.
"I won't let him die."
LUCAN REVEALS THE PRIME PROJECT
Lucian sat beside us, running a hand through his hair.
"Elleanore… there's something you need to understand."
I looked up, wiping my face.
Lucian's voice was low—almost reluctant.
"The Prime Project wasn't shut down. It wasn't a rumor.
It's real."
Rowan stiffened.
Chandler's eyes darkened.
Lucian continued:
"For the past decade, the Crown has been trying to create an evolved pheromone signature—
one that surpasses Alpha, Beta, or Omega."
Chandler inhaled sharply.
"You're talking about scent engineering."
Lucian nodded.
"Prime evolution."
Rowan whimpered quietly.
Lucian looked at me directly.
"Elleanore…
you are not the Prototype."
My heart pounded.
"You are the successor."
I froze.
Lucian swallowed hard.
"And the one we just saw…
the thing with your scent…
is the first attempt."
Rowan shook.
Chandler whispered,
"Holy shit."
Lucian continued softly:
"It's incomplete.
Unstable.
But connected to you."
Connected.
My blood went cold.
Lucian lowered his voice.
"Elleanore…
your evolution is accelerating.
Your scent overwhelms the first subject.
That's why it wants you.
Why it hates Horace.
Why it tracked you."
I whispered:
"…What am I becoming?"
Lucian's expression softened—
frightened for the first time.
"I don't know."
Silence echoed in the tunnel.
Horace's unconscious weight was warm against me.
Chandler and Rowan sat pressed together, clinging faintly.
Lucian looked at me with something I had never seen in him:
genuine fear.
"Elleanore," he said quietly,
"The Academy is going into emergency lockdown.
The Prime Subject is loose."
He paused.
"And it's coming for you."
Instinct Thread
The tunnel lights flickered again—
a warning ripple of electricity moving through the metal pipes above us.
Lucian looked up sharply.
"That's the ventilation system."
His voice dropped.
"It's searching."
Chandler pulled Rowan closer instinctively.
"It's hunting already?"
Rowan whimpered, burying his face into Chandler's shoulder.
"I can hear it," Rowan whispered, voice tight and panicked.
"The metal… the vibration… It's moving through the ducts.
It's fast."
Chandler ran a soothing hand along Rowan's back.
"I've got you. I've got you. You're safe with me."
Rowan clung to him with trembling fingers.
Lucian moved toward the nearest junction box.
"We need to stay ahead of it. Elleanore's scent is too strong right now—it's like a beacon."
I froze, holding Horace tightly.
"My scent?"
Lucian nodded grimly.
"Look at Horace's condition."
He gestured at the unconscious prince pressed against my shoulder.
"He shouldn't be stable. He shouldn't be breathing this easily. Not after the hemorrhaging."
I looked down.
Horace's breathing had steadied.
His arm was wrapped around my waist, unconsciously holding on.
His forehead rested under my jawline, as if instinct pulled him there.
My cheeks warmed.
"He's recovering because your scent is regulating his heartbeat," Lucian finished quietly.
"But that also means the Prime Subject will be drawn here faster."
Chandler swore under his breath.
Rowan's breath hitched.
"What do we do?"
Lucian looked at me.
"Elleanore… we need to suppress your scent for now."
I stiffened.
"How?"
Lucian hesitated.
"…There is one way."
Chandler muttered,
"Why does that sound bad?"
Lucian cleared his throat.
"An Alpha with enough instinctive authority can temporarily override an unstable scent spike."
Rowan blinked, confused.
"What does that mean?"
Lucian looked down at Horace.
"It means he has to do it."
My face flushed with heat.
"You mean—Horace—scent-mark… me?"
Rowan flushed.
Chandler's eyebrows shot up.
Lucian looked away for a second.
"It's not a full mark," Lucian clarified, voice strained.
"It's not permanent.
He would simply… overwhelm your scent signature long enough to dampen the signal."
I swallowed.
"So he'd use his scent… to cover mine?"
Lucian nodded.
"Yes."
My heart pounded.
"That's intimate," Chandler muttered.
Lucian coughed.
"Yes. Extremely."
Rowan whispered,
"It's also… instinctive. It'll pull him out of unconsciousness."
I looked down at Horace—
pale
injured
barely hanging on
but still holding me like I was the only thing keeping him alive.
"Is this safe for him?" I whispered.
Lucian shook his head.
"No.
But it's safer than letting the Prime find you now."
Before I could speak—
Horace stirred.
His fingers tightened at my waist.
His voice, broken and rough, whispered against my collarbone:
"…Elleanore."
I froze.
He blinked up at me—
eyes hazy, unfocused, but full of instinct.
"Elleanore…"
He inhaled deeply.
"Your scent is—
too sharp—
too bright—
it's pulling everything—"
His breath hitched.
My chest tightened.
"Horace…"
He tried to push himself upright, wavering.
Lucian knelt beside him.
"Horace. You need to listen to me carefully."
Horace frowned, still struggling to wake fully.
"Elleanore is unstable," Lucian said.
"And the Prime Subject is tracking her.
You are the only one who can cover her scent before it reaches us."
Horace's breath slowed.
His eyes sharpened.
Not fully conscious—
not fully aware—
but instinct took hold.
And something shifted behind his gaze.
He turned to me.
"Elleanore," he whispered,
"can I…?"
His voice was raw.
Hurt.
Instinctive.
Asking permission even when half-delirious.
I swallowed.
"Yes," I whispered.
"You can."
Horace exhaled shakily.
He lifted a trembling hand—
calloused fingers brushing lightly against the side of my throat, just below my jawline.
Heat shot down my spine.
Rowan covered his eyes.
Chandler whispered, "Holy—"
Lucian looked away politely.
Horace's hand slid behind my neck, pulling me forward.
"Elleanore…"
His voice was breathless.
"You smell like… everything I've been trying not to want."
My heart thudded so hard it hurt.
Then—
He buried his face against my neck.
Not gently.
Not slowly.
With hunger.
With instinct.
With a need neither of us had ever admitted.
And he breathed me in.
A deep, shaky inhale that made his entire body shudder against mine.
I gasped.
My knees trembled.
His scent—
warm
rich
cedar and storm-wind and fevered adrenaline—
flooded my senses.
Overwhelming.
Intoxicating.
Anchoring.
My body reacted instantly—
blood heating
pulse racing
breath catching in my throat.
Rowan whimpered,
"I can feel their scent from here—"
Chandler rubbed his shoulder, whispering,
"Don't look."
Lucian exhaled sharply.
"Elleanore… brace yourself."
Before I could ask why—
Horace's breath hitched
and he pressed his lips softly
then firmly
against the base of my neck.
Not a kiss.
A mark.
My entire body spasmed.
My scent exploded then collapsed inward, drawn tight and low under Horace's influence.
Heat spiraled through my veins.
I clutched his shirt, gasping.
"Horace—"
He whispered against my skin:
"Mine."
My heart nearly stopped.
He didn't even know he said it.
Instinct spoke for him.
But the effect was immediate.
My scent dropped.
Stabilized.
Softened.
Lucian inhaled sharply.
"It worked."
Horace sagged suddenly, the last of his strength fading.
I caught him, pulling him against me.
"Hey—hey—Horace—"
His head rested on my shoulder, breathing slow and warm.
"I'm okay…" he whispered weakly.
"You're safe now…"
And then he passed out again.
This time with a faint, relieved smile.
THE MACHINE'S MOVE
A deep metallic tremor rang through the tunnel walls.
Rowan clung tighter to Chandler.
"It's closer," he whispered.
"I can feel it."
Lucian checked the flickering emergency panel.
"It's entered the lower vents. We need to move."
I pulled Horace's arm over my shoulder, lifting him carefully.
Chandler helped Rowan to his feet.
Lucian led the way deeper into the tunnels.
"We only have one option left," he said.
"What?" I asked, tightening my grip on Horace.
Lucian looked back at me.
His expression grim.
"Find the Crown Wing's lost research archives."
My blood ran cold.
"You mean the ones about—"
"Yes."
Lucian's eyes hardened.
"About you."