For a moment, the entire medbay fell silent—
the kind of silence that presses against your ears, heavy and suffocating.
Everyone stood frozen.
The guards by the entrance raised their weapons.
Nurses backed toward the inner rooms, eyes wide with horror.
The overhead lights flickered once—twice—
then settled into a pulsing red glow as the lockdown sealed.
Chandler pulled Rowan against his chest, shielding him from the trembling door.
Lucian stepped closer to the reinforced glass, jaw tight.
"Elleanore," he said quietly without turning,
"get behind something."
I clutched Horace's hand tightly.
"I'm not leaving him."
The Prototype's distorted breathing scraped against the other side of the metal door.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Hungry.
Rowan whimpered, flinching at every sound.
"Chandler… I don't want to be here—I don't want to be here—"
"I know," Chandler whispered, voice cracking as he held him close.
"I've got you. I won't let anything touch you."
Rowan shook violently, fingers digging into Chandler's shirt.
The lights flickered again.
Then—
BOOM—!!!
The first impact slammed into the medbay door so hard the reinforced frame bent inward.
Guards staggered back.
One guard shouted:
"It's trying to force the lock—!! HOLD POSITIONS—!!"
Rowan cried out and buried his face in Chandler's collar.
Chandler pressed his cheek against Rowan's hair, eyes squeezed shut.
"Don't look. Don't look. Just stay with me."
Rowan trembled uncontrollably.
Lucian stepped back from the door quickly.
"Elleanore, stay behind Horace's bed. Don't go near that entrance."
I didn't argue.
My legs felt numb as I lowered myself beside Horace, placing my hand over his heart.
His breaths were shallow.
His heartbeat fluttered under my palm—fragile and thin.
"Stay with me…" I whispered.
"Please…"
His eyelids flickered—
just barely—
as if he could hear me through the noise.
The Prototype slammed into the door again.
BOOM—!!
The glass cracked.
Rowan screamed.
Chandler pressed him tighter against his chest, whispering frantically:
"Hey—hey—breathe—come on, breathe for me—Rowan—look at me—"
Rowan gasped sharply, shaking his head.
"I can't—I can't—it's coming—it's going to take us—it's going to take her—"
"NO," Chandler said fiercely.
"No one is taking anyone."
Lucian's voice trembled as he stepped back further.
"Elleanore—if that door breaks, your scent bond will react first. Your instincts will spike."
"I don't care," I said.
"You HAVE to care," Lucian snapped.
"If you spike, you'll draw it to you instantly—and you won't be able to run."
"I'm not running," I whispered.
"I'm staying with him."
Horace.
His pulse tripped beneath my fingers.
Weak.
Fading.
But there.
He wasn't losing this battle.
Not with me here.
Not today.
THE FIRST BREACH
The Prototype struck the door a third time—
this hit so violent it dented the steel inward by several inches.
The reinforced hinges cracked.
Glass spider-webbed outward.
The guards shouted:
"FALL BACK—!! FALL BACK—!!"
One of the nurses screamed and ducked behind a cabinet.
Lucian pulled out a broken metal tray and held it like a makeshift shield.
"Everyone GET BACK—!!"
Rowan's sob tore through the air.
"Chandler—!!"
"I'm here—I'm here—hold onto me—"
Then—
everything fell silent.
The Prototype stopped moving.
Stopped breathing.
Stopped scraping.
Just—
still.
The quiet was worse than the noise.
Lucian's voice was barely a whisper.
"…It's recalibrating. Choosing its entry point."
A cold chill crawled down my spine.
"It's thinking," I whispered.
Lucian nodded.
"Primes do that."
And then—
low
broken
scraping against the metal—
came its voice.
"…Elliot… is waiting…"
My blood froze.
Rowan cried out.
Chandler stiffened.
Lucian whipped toward me, eyes widening.
"It's LYING—DON'T LISTEN—!!"
But shock had already punched the air out of my lungs.
Elliot.
My twin.
Missing.
Gone.
The Prototype knew his name.
How?
How did it—?
My scent spiked uncontrollably.
Horace's pulse stuttered.
Lucian grabbed my shoulders.
"Elleanore—FOCUS—FOCUS ON ME—DON'T LET IT BREAK YOU—!!"
But its voice came again, from behind the cracked door—
"…Elliot… calls for you…"
Something in me twisted painfully.
"No…" I whispered.
"No—you don't know him—"
The Prototype answered immediately:
"…I do…"
Rowan screamed and clung to Chandler.
Chandler cursed under his breath, voice shaking:
"This thing is too damn smart—"
BOOM—!!
The door bent inward another inch.
A metal claw punched through.
Guards stumbled backward.
Rowan panicked and thrashed.
"CHANDLER—IT'S RIGHT THERE—!!"
Chandler held him tighter.
"I KNOW—I KNOW—I've got you—don't look—!!"
Lucian pushed me back, keeping me shielded.
"Elleanore—your scent is destabilizing—HORACE CAN'T HANDLE ANOTHER SPIKE—!!"
"I can't stop it—!!" I cried, tears blurring my vision.
"It knows things—it knows—"
Lucian cupped the sides of my face, forcing my eyes on his.
"Elleanore.
Listen.
Look at him."
He pointed to Horace.
"Look at him. Touch him. Smell him. Focus ONLY on him."
I grabbed Horace's hand, pressing it to my cheek.
"Horace… Horace… please… please…"
His pulse fluttered.
Steadied slightly.
Lucian exhaled in relief.
"Good—GOOD—keep going—"
But Rowan suddenly let out a sharp cry.
"Chandler—!!"
His entire body tensed, spasmed, then collapsed into a limp trembling heap in Chandler's arms.
Chandler panicked.
"Rowan—hey—HEY—stay with me—Rowan—!!"
Rowan's lips trembled.
"I… can't… breathe… please—Chandler—don't let it take me—"
"I WON'T," Chandler whispered fiercely, voice shaking so hard it broke.
"I'm right here. Look at me. Stay with me."
Lucian's face went pale.
"He's entering shock—too much fear, too many triggers—Chandler, keep holding him—don't let him fade—"
Chandler held Rowan tighter, hands trembling as he pressed their foreheads together.
"Rowan… you're safe. I swear it. Stay awake. Stay with me. Please…"
Rowan clung to him weakly.
"D… don't… let go…"
"I won't. Not ever."
THE REVELATION
The Prototype struck the door again.
This time—
BOOOOOM—!!
A massive dent cracked the center.
Glass shattered outward.
A metallic arm forced its way through the gap.
Guards opened fire—
BANG—BANG—BANG—!!
Sparks flew.
The Prototype didn't stop.
It pushed harder, deforming the metal.
Lucian shouted:
"WE HAVE TO MOVE—!!"
"We can't!" I cried.
"Horace needs treatment—"
"Elleanore—LISTEN—IF IT GETS THROUGH, WE'RE ALL DEAD—!!"
Rowan sobbed again.
Chandler whispered into his hair:
"I'm here. I've got you. Don't look at it—don't listen—"
But the Prototype ignored the guards.
Ignored the bullets.
Ignored everything.
Except me.
It angled its head through the broken glass—
a cracked faceplate exposing flickering, molten eyes.
And it spoke one last time:
"…come with me… and Elliot lives…"
My heart stopped.
Completely.
Lucian went white.
Chandler inhaled sharply.
Rowan gasped.
Horace's heartbeat spiked, even unconscious.
I whispered—
shaking—
"…What did you say…?"
The Prototype's voice glitched with static.
"…Elliot… is alive…"
The world tilted.
My breath failed.
Everything inside me spiraled.
"Lucian—"
My voice broke.
"What is it saying…?"
Lucian swallowed hard.
"Elleanore—
it's manipulating you."
"No."
I shook my head slowly.
"No—you don't know that—"
Chandler snapped:
"YES, HE DOES—ELLEANORE, DON'T LISTEN—!"
The Prototype pressed closer—
reaching—
calling—
"…your brother waits… in the lower wing…"
My eyes widened.
"The lower wing—?"
Lucian grabbed me.
"Elleanore—that wing collapsed years ago—THERE IS NO ONE THERE—!!"
"But what if—what if—"
"Elleanore—STOP—!!" Lucian shouted.
But the door exploded inward—
CRAAAAASH—!!
Debris flew across the room.
Guards were thrown backwards.
Rowan screamed into Chandler's neck.
Chandler shielded him.
Lucian pushed me down behind the bed.
The Prototype stepped into the room—
tall
jagged
broken
but unmistakably focused.
Focused on me.
And it spoke—
clearly, perfectly, horribly:
"…you want the truth…?
Come with me…
and I will take you to Elliot."
And for the first time—
I hesitated.
Choice of the Bonded
The Prototype stepped fully into the medbay.
Not limping.
Not weakening.
Not even reacting to the bullets lodged in its metal frame.
Every movement was deliberate—
like a creature carved from instinct and purpose.
Its cracked mask turned toward me.
The remaining lights reflected in its shattered eye-lens.
And it said again—slow, cold, haunting:
"…come with me…
and I will take you
to Elliot."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Elliot.
My twin.
My other half.
The reason I took his place here.
Alive?
Could he actually—
No.
No.
It was impossible.
Lucian grabbed my wrist, pulling me backward behind Horace's bed.
"Elleanore—DON'T LISTEN. It's using you."
"But—Lucian—"
My voice cracked.
"What if it's true?"
Chandler shouted from behind a toppled cart:
"IT'S LYING—ELLEANORE—DON'T BELIEVE THAT MONSTER—!!"
Rowan was curled against Chandler's chest, sobbing uncontrollably with his hands clamped over his ears.
"Chandler… make it stop… please make it stop—!!"
"I know—I know—just breathe—don't look at it—don't listen—please, Rowan—stay with me—"
Chandler kissed his hair fiercely, voice breaking.
But the Prototype took another step forward.
The metal of its feet clanged against the floor.
TANG.
TANG.
TANG.
Like a countdown.
Guards scrambled backward in fear.
Even they knew bullets were useless.
The Prototype didn't look at them.
It didn't look at Rowan.
It didn't look at Chandler.
It didn't even look at Lucian.
Its cracked, flickering eye focused only on me.
"Elleanore."
My breath hitched.
It said my name almost gently—
soft
like a ghost whispering through a broken radio.
Lucian tightened his grip.
"Elleanore—listen to me—this is NOT Elliot. It is NOT telling the truth.
Your brother is NOT down there—"
"You don't know that," I whispered, trembling.
Lucian's eyes widened.
Not in anger.
In fear.
Fear of what I might do.
"Elleanore—look at me—"
I didn't.
I was staring at the Prototype.
Its presence filled the room with suffocating tension—
and something else—
recognition.
As if it knew me.
Deeply.
Too deeply.
"…your brother calls for you…
in the lower wing…"
I shook my head.
"The lower wing is destroyed—"
Lucian snapped:
"Exactly—DESTROYED—there is NO ONE there—!!!"
But a horrible thought wormed into my chest.
What if Elliot had been taken?
What if he wasn't dead—
just hidden?
Used?
Changed?
My knees weakened.
I whispered:
"I—I have to know—"
Lucian gripped both my shoulders.
"No.
What you have to do—
is STAY ALIVE."
The Prototype's hand extended toward me—
fingers dragging dangerously along the bed's metal frame.
The sound screeched like tearing bone.
"…come.
With me."
My stomach turned.
Instinct screamed at me to run.
But grief—
grief whispered something else.
What if this was my only chance?
My only chance to find Elliot.
My body trembled violently.
Lucian moved in front of me, spreading his arms defensively.
"You will NOT take her."
The Prototype tilted its head.
"…You are not the one I choose."
Lucian stiffened.
Then—
the Prototype shifted its attention—
downward.
To the bed.
To Horace.
My heart stopped.
"NO—!" I cried, trying to step forward—
Lucian held me back.
The Prototype spoke with a hollow, eerie clarity:
"…He is interfering.
The bond is incomplete.
Remove him…
and she will come."
Chandler's eyes widened.
Rowan trembled harder.
Lucian swore violently under his breath.
"Over my dead BODY," Chandler snarled.
The Prototype didn't react.
It simply watched me.
"…Come to me, Elleanore."
Something cracked in my chest.
Not instinct.
Not fear.
Something deeper.
A voice in my ribs whispered:
Follow him.
Another whispered:
Stay.
Another whispered:
If Elliot is alive—
A hand grabbed my wrist suddenly.
Weak.
Cold.
But familiar.
Horace.
His fingers curled around my wrist with fragile determination.
"El… lea…"
His voice was barely breath.
Barely life.
I looked down.
Horace's eyes were half-open—
trembling
unfocused
but staring at me.
Lucian gasped.
"He's awake—?!"
Chandler whispered:
"Horace—man, no—don't push yourself—"
Rowan sobbed:
"H-Horace…"
Horace's lips moved again.
"Don't… go…"
My heart shattered.
Completely.
He swallowed painfully, trying to lift his head.
His eyelashes fluttered.
His breathing hitched.
His pulse skipped.
But he spoke again—
with everything he had left—
"Please… don't… leave me…"
Tears poured down my face.
"Horace—"
He squeezed my wrist slightly.
"I'll… find him…
with you…
I promise…
just…
stay…"
The Prototype's voice cracked with static.
"…He is weakening you."
Lucian snarled:
"She CHOSE him."
The Prototype responded instantly.
"…That choice is flawed."
Rowan whimpered.
"Chandler… make it shut up—please—"
Chandler buried Rowan's head in his shoulder and whispered soothingly:
"Don't listen… don't listen… I've got you…"
The Prototype took another step.
The floor vibrated.
Lucian shoved me back.
"Elleanore—your scent is rising—control it—CONTROL IT—!!"
I didn't hear him.
Because Horace tugged my hand again.
"Stay… with me…"
My tears fell onto his palm.
"I'm here," I whispered.
"I'm not leaving."
His lips formed the faintest smile.
Tiny.
Painful.
Beautiful.
The Prototype moved again—
claws scraping the cracked tile.
"…You belong with your kin.
With your origin."
My breath stilled.
My origin.
Elliot.
Horace's weak voice trembled.
"No…
you belong…
with me…"
Something inside me snapped.
Not like breaking.
Like choosing.
I rose slowly—
placing myself between Horace and the Prototype.
Lucian stiffened.
Chandler froze.
Rowan trembled violently.
The Prototype pointed one jagged finger at me.
"…Elleanore."
I stared back.
"No."
Static crackled in its chest.
"…What?"
I lifted my chin, shaking but firm.
"No."
"You don't tell me where Elliot is.
You don't command me.
You don't decide my bond."
The Prototype tilted its head.
"…You are mine by design."
"Maybe," I whispered.
"But not by choice."
My voice shook.
But it held.
"I won't go with you.
Because Elliot wouldn't want me to.
And because I'm not completing anything with you."
My scent pulsed—
not spiking—
not collapsing—
steady.
Because behind me—
Horace's heartbeat steadied too.
And Rowan whispered:
"Elleanore… you're doing it…"
Chandler stroked Rowan's hair softly, relieved.
Lucian inhaled shakily.
The Prototype's eye flickered.
"…You refuse?"
"Yes."
"…Then I…
will take you…
by force."
It surged forward—
FAST.
Lucian shouted:
"ELLEANORE—MOVE—!!"
Chandler screamed:
"NO—!!"
Rowan cried:
"DON'T—!!"
And Horace—
Horace—
with the last spark of strength in his body—
pushed himself upright—
and roared:
"DON'T TOUCH HER—!!"
His body collapsed instantly—
but that shout—
that fierce, possessive, terrified shout—
stopped the Prototype mid-charge.
The bond detonated in the room.
My scent snapped into perfect clarity—
not Stage Four
not collapse
Choice.
The Prototype reeled back—
and for the first time—
IT HESITATED.