The deeper we walked, the colder the tunnel became.
Not a natural cold—
not the chill of underground metal or damp stone.
A sterile cold.
Chemical.
Artificial.
The kind that clung to your ribs and made every instinct bristle.
Horace's weight leaned heavily into me, his breath warm against my neck.
He was unconscious but stable—
the Bloodline Lock keeping him alive,
the scent-mark anchoring him.
Lucian checked our surroundings with a small flashlight, jaw tight.
"We're close."
Chandler's voice echoed behind us, low and steady, keeping Rowan calm.
"Breathe with me. Slow. That's it."
Rowan was trembling but trying to stay upright.
His hand gripping Chandler's sleeve like a lifeline.
"Is this…" Rowan whispered, voice shaking,
"where they keep the Prime experiments?"
Lucian hesitated.
"Yes."
Rowan flinched.
Chandler squeezed his shoulder.
"I'm not letting anything touch you," he murmured.
Rowan nodded—
but the fear still quivered in his breath.
THE DOOR
We reached a massive circular vault door.
Rust swallowed parts of it.
Crown insignia—old, cracked, faded—
decorated the metal like a warning.
Lucian approached the panel beside it.
"This is Archive X," he said quietly.
"Unlisted. Unmonitored.
Only the highest-level researchers knew it existed."
I tightened my grip on Horace.
"What exactly is inside?"
Lucian took a long breath.
"The Crown's abandoned scent evolution program."
Chandler exhaled sharply.
"So the stuff they used to make—whatever he is."
Lucian nodded.
"And what they used to… prepare you," Rowan whispered shakily, eyes on me.
My chest tightened.
Lucian tapped the console.
Old lights flickered to life.
A robotic chime clicked:
"Identify."
Lucian stepped close.
"Lucian Frinton. Prince-rank authorization."
A long pause.
Then—
"Authorization insufficient."
Lucian clenched his jaw.
"Damn it."
Rowan's voice trembled.
"Try mine…"
Lucian looked at him sharply.
"Rowan—no. You're a trauma subject. Your signature might trigger—"
But Rowan exhaled shakily.
"I've been here before.
I know this hallway.
I know the smell."
He stepped forward on trembling legs.
Chandler moved with him instantly, hands hovering protectively.
Rowan reached out a shaking hand toward the panel.
The moment his fingertips brushed the reader—
Beep.
Lucian's eyes widened.
Chandler's breath caught.
The vault responded:
"Secondary subject recognized. Trauma code: Omega-0417."
Rowan's breath faltered.
He whispered:
"That… that was my number."
Lucian swallowed hard.
"They cataloged you."
Rowan shook, tears spilling down his cheeks.
Chandler instantly wrapped his arms around him from behind, pulling him close.
"Hey—hey—it's okay," Chandler whispered, voice breaking.
"You're not a number anymore. You're not ANYTHING they wrote down."
Rowan clung to him.
The vault door clicked.
Then—
CHHHHH—
It slowly rolled open.
ARCHIVE X
The air that spilled out was ice cold.
Not natural cold.
Cryogenic cold.
The room was massive—
rows of steel cabinets, frozen data cores, shattered glass from old containment pods.
Lights flickered weakly overhead.
But the worst part?
The photographs lining the walls.
I stepped forward carefully, Horace still in my arms.
The faces looked back at us.
Children.
Teenagers.
Some smiling.
Some terrified.
Names listed beneath them.
Chandler muttered,
"What the hell…"
Lucian's face went pale.
"These are all the Prime candidates," he whispered.
"Every subject the Crown tested before discontinuing the project."
My stomach twisted.
Rowan walked closer, trembling.
"This—this hallway—
these pictures—
they were on the walls when I was taken down there…"
He choked on his breath.
"And all those kids…"
His voice cracked.
"…they're gone."
Chandler hugged him tightly.
Lucian scanned the names.
Most were crossed out.
DECEASED.
FAILED.
UNSTABLE.
TERMINATED.
My blood ran cold.
Rowan weakly lifted a hand and pointed at a near-bottom row.
"Elliot Jan Fonze."
His voice trembled.
"He's there.
See?
I saw that.
I saw his photo when they dragged me through."
I froze.
I stepped closer.
There he was.
Elliot.
My twin.
My mirror.
Smiling in the picture.
A small tag below read:
SUBJECT 0017 – ELIOT J. FONZE
STATUS: TERMINATED
NOTES: SCENT INSTABILITY – FAILED EVOLUTION
My throat closed.
Rowan clutched Chandler harder, sobbing.
Chandler stroked his hair, whispering,
"Don't look, baby, don't—"
But Rowan shook his head.
"I have to.
I have to see it.
I have to know he wasn't crazy."
Lucian moved toward a sealed cabinet nearby.
Dust covered the glass.
He wiped it away.
Inside—
a file folder marked:
"PRIME SUCCESSOR: FONZE (E.M.)"
My heart stopped.
"E.M…" I whispered.
"That code… you mentioned that code."
Lucian nodded, voice tight.
"Elleanore…
this is your file."
My chest constricted painfully.
"Open it," I whispered.
Lucian hesitated.
"Elleanore… once you see this, you can't unsee it."
I held my sleeping brother's weight in my arms—
the brother I lost
the brother they took
the brother whose picture I was staring at now.
"I want the truth."
Lucian swallowed hard.
Then he opened the file.
THE TRUTH IN THE FILE
The top page showed:
SUBJECT 0023 – ELLEANORE M. FONZE
STATUS: PENDING STABILIZATION
PROJECTED CLASSIFICATION: PRIME
NOTES: SUCCESSFUL GENETIC MATCH.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Rowan covered his mouth.
Chandler whispered,
"Holy shit…"
Lucian flipped the next page.
A list.
I recognized the handwriting.
Dr. Hale—the Crown's primary geneticist.
It read:
Identical DNA sequence with Subject 0017
Potential to surpass prototype
Omega-presenting with Alpha-tier scent deviation
Mutation onset expected during adolescence
Ideal candidate—stable emotional baseline
High survival probability
My vision blurred.
I whispered:
"They were waiting for me."
Lucian nodded grimly.
"They always were."
Chandler slammed a fist into the metal cabinet.
"Those sick bastards—"
Rowan trembled violently.
"They picked you," he whispered.
"Before you even knew.
Before Elliot even knew."
Lucian kept reading.
Another page.
This one handwritten.
"If Subject 0017 fails to stabilize, Subject 0023 will be activated."
I staggered.
Activated.
Horace's hand twitched against my shirt.
Lucian looked at me slowly.
"Elleanore…
they didn't expect Elliot to survive.
He was a trial run.
A test."
My breath hitched painfully.
"He wasn't a failure," I whispered fiercely.
"He was my brother."
Lucian closed the file gently.
"He was.
And they used him to prepare for you."
A metallic clatter echoed down the tunnel.
Rowan froze.
Chandler stepped in front of him.
Lucian snapped the file shut.
"It's here."
My heart pounded.
The Prime Subject.
Hunting.
"Grab Horace and move," Lucian commanded.
I tightened my arms around Horace.
Rowan squeezed Chandler's hand.
Lucian grabbed the file.
Another metallic scrape echoed from the darkness—
closer now,
faster.
Chandler pulled Rowan behind him.
Lucian pointed to a second exit at the far end of the vault.
"That door leads to the old training wing. GO!"
A deep voice echoed through the tunnel—
not human
not even mechanical
something in between:
"ELLEANORE…"
My blood chilled.
Chandler swore.
Rowan screamed.
And I whispered—
"…It's coming."
The Prototype Returns
The tunnel shuddered.
A metallic vibration rolled through the floor—
a deep, resonant hum
like something massive crawling through the walls.
Rowan flinched violently.
Chandler grabbed him immediately, pulling him close.
Lucian's voice sharpened.
"Elleanore—HORACE—MOVE. Now."
I lifted Horace in my arms as carefully as I could.
His head rested against my shoulder, his breath warm, uneven.
But the moment the metallic hum intensified—
Horace's fingers twitched.
His eyes squeezed shut.
"El… lea… nore…"
He was fighting consciousness.
Trying to wake up.
Trying to get to me.
"Horace," I whispered,
"stay with me, it's okay—"
The ground vibrated again.
Rowan whimpered quietly.
Chandler wrapped one arm firmly around his waist, the other on his shoulder.
"Rowan, look at me."
Rowan shook his head, trembling uncontrollably.
"I-I can't—
the sound—
it's the same—
it's the same sound from before—
from when they dragged me—"
Chandler cupped his face.
"Rowan.
You're NOT there.
You're here with me."
Rowan leaned into the touch like he needed it to breathe.
Lucian grabbed the access door's handle.
"Inside. NOW."
I rushed forward—
THE BREACH
CRAAAAACK—!!
The Archive vault's outer corridor caved inward as something massive slammed into it.
Dust spilled from the ceiling.
The lights flickered violently.
Rowan covered his ears and cried out.
Chandler pulled him behind a row of metal cabinets.
Lucian swore.
"It found us."
I clutched Horace tighter, trying to get him to the next door.
His head drooped forward, breath catching.
Then—
Horace's eyes snapped open halfway.
Not fully conscious—
half-instinct, half-pain.
His voice was hoarse and broken:
"Elleanore… don't… let it touch you…"
His hand, shaking violently, gripped my sleeve with surprising force.
"I… won't…" I whispered.
Another impact rattled the vault.
BOOM—
Metal warped inward.
BOOM—
The ground trembled.
BOOM—
A cabinet collapsed to the floor.
Rowan screamed into Chandler's chest.
Lucian shoved us toward the inner exit.
"Hurry—MOVE—move—ELLEANORE, GO—!"
I sprinted with Horace in my arms—
Then froze.
A shadow appeared at the vault's entrance.
Tall.
Lean.
Wrong.
It stepped through the debris—
and every instinct in my body recoiled.
THE PRIME SUBJECT
Its pale face flickered under the broken lights.
Dark hair hung over those strange metallic eyes—
eyes locked entirely
hungrily
on me.
Its voice echoed through the chamber, distorted and low.
"Elleanore."
Every muscle in my body froze.
Lucian shoved me behind him.
"Stay back—!"
But the figure didn't even look at Lucian.
"You cannot run from me."
Rowan's knees buckled.
"I remember—
I remember him—
that night—
his silhouette—
Elliot screaming—
I saw him in the hall—
I SAW HIM—"
Rowan's voice broke into sobs.
"He's the one who dragged Elliot away—!!"
Chandler's eyes widened.
Lucian's face went pale.
The Prime Subject tilted its head, almost curious.
"The weak one remembers."
Rowan let out a strangled sob.
Chandler snapped,
"You don't get to talk about him!"
But the Prime ignored him completely.
Its gaze locked only on me.
I stepped backward, pulse hammering.
"Why did you take Elliot?"
The figure blinked.
"To awaken him."
My heart stopped.
"He wasn't supposed to die."
The figure's expression twisted.
"He failed.
He would not evolve."
Rage surged in my veins.
Lucian snarled.
"You experimented on him—"
"He was my twin," I snapped, my voice trembling.
The Prime Subject paused.
Its head tilted slightly.
"…Yes."
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
"You remember him?"
The figure blinked slowly.
"I remember instinct.
He smelled like you."
Something in me broke.
A noise between grief and fury tore from my chest.
Horace stirred against me, reacting to my scent spike.
His eyes opened halfway.
His voice barely a whisper:
"Elleanore… don't… let anger take you…"
I held him tighter.
"I won't."
Lucian raised the shock baton, voice shaking but firm.
"Get behind me."
The Prime Subject tilted its head.
"You cannot protect her."
Lucian's jaw clenched.
"I can damn well try."
The Prime's eyes flicked toward him.
"You are irrelevant."
Lucian didn't back down.
He stepped forward—
And the next moment—
The Prime Subject vanished.
THE ATTACK
"Lucian!!" I yelled.
He spun—
Too late.
The Prime appeared behind him, silent as death.
Its hand shot out.
"LUCIAN!" Chandler shouted.
Rowan screamed.
Lucian barely dodged, but the blow caught his side—sending him skidding across the floor.
He hit a cabinet, coughing, gasping for breath.
The Prime stepped forward—
straight for me.
Horace, half-conscious, forced his body upright in my arms.
"Stay… behind me…" he rasped.
"No—Horace—you can't—"
He pushed himself to his feet.
Barely.
Bending.
Shaking.
Exhausted.
Bleeding.
But standing in front of me.
His voice was a raw snarl.
"Don't touch her."
The Prime Subject stopped a foot away.
Then it tilted its head.
"You again."
Horace tried to square his shoulders.
"Yeah. Me again."
"You are defective," the Prime said calmly.
"Too weak to claim her."
Horace's lip curled.
"I don't 'claim' her."
His breathing was labored, painful—
but his voice stayed steady.
"She chooses me."
My heart stuttered.
Lucian stared at him in disbelief.
Rowan's breath hitched.
Chandler blinked.
The Prime Subject's eyes narrowed.
"She is mine."
"NO," Horace snarled, despite his failing body.
"She's NOT."
The Prime lifted its hand, palm glowing.
Instinct screamed inside me.
"HORACE!" I cried.
He looked back at me—
just a split second.
And tried to smile.
"Elleanore… run—"
The Prime fired.
A blast of kinetic shock.
I didn't think.
I didn't breathe.
I pulled Horace into my arms and threw both of us sideways—
The shockwave slammed into the metal wall, scorching it black.
Chandler rushed forward, dragging Rowan behind a cabinet.
Lucian dove for the nearest console.
The Prime Subject's voice echoed:
"Stop resisting.
You cannot escape what you are."
I stood up slowly, shaking, adrenaline pulsing like fire.
"What am I?!"
The Prime stepped closer.
"You are my completion."
I recoiled.
Horace pushed himself in front of me again, trembling violently but refusing to collapse.
"You'll have to kill me first."
The Prime Subject's eyes flickered.
"Acceptable."
It raised its hand—
Rowan screamed:
"ELLEANORE!! IT'S TARGETING HIS HEART—!!"
My instincts roared.
"NO!"
The moment my voice snapped—
Something inside me ignited.
NOT heat.
NOT scent.
Something deeper.
A pulse of raw pheromone force exploded outward from my chest.
A shockwave of scent so sharp and overwhelming that the entire vault trembled.
Rowan collapsed to his knees.
Chandler shielded him.
Lucian staggered.
The Prime Subject froze—
its body locking up, limbs stiffening.
Its expression flickered with disorientation.
Like it had been hit by a scent wall it had never expected.
Horace steadied himself by grabbing my waist.
"Elleanore…
your scent—
it's—"
I couldn't hear him.
Everything sounded distant and muffled.
My heartbeat thundered like a drum.
The Prime Subject whispered, voice glitching:
"…Impossible…"
Lucian stared in awe and horror.
"Elleanore—your evolution—
it's accelerating again—"
The Prime Subject took a shaky step back.
"You… overpower… me…"
Its eyes flickered rapidly.
A glitch.
A failure.
A warning.
"Why…?
You are incomplete—
you cannot—"
It stumbled.
"—you cannot be stronger—"
Fear.
For the first time
the Prime Subject
felt fear.
I stepped forward.
My voice came out quiet, shaking.
"You hurt my brother."
The Prime froze.
"You hunted me."
It twitched.
"You threatened Horace."
Its breathing—if it even counted—hitched.
And I whispered:
"I'm done running."
The Prime Subject staggered backward.
Lucian shouted:
"Elleanore—STOP—your scent will destabilize you—!!"
Horace grabbed my hand, gasping.
"El…lea…nore… don't… push it—"
But instinct had already taken over.
I didn't attack.
I didn't chase.
I simply stood my ground.
And for the first time—
the Prime Subject retreated.
Backing into the shadows.
Its voice cracked as it disappeared.
"…You are not ready…
I will come back…
until you become mine…"
Silence.
Rowan sobbed into Chandler's chest.
Lucian dropped to one knee, exhausted.
Horace collapsed fully against me.
I held him tightly, shaking.
And whispered:
"I'm not becoming yours."