Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Frank headed straight to a cabinet and snapped on a pair of latex gloves. Grabbing a few things, he headed back toward us. Pointing at the metal chairs ringing the table, he ordered, “Sit. I need a blood sample from both of you.”
Yet another man wanting blood.
A crackle of flame danced around my fingers, costing me.
Rook shot me a worried look. “It’s alright, Lucien. We’re fine.”
“Frank won’t hurt either of you,” Dillon said from where he’d parked himself in the corner, his arms crossed but hand conveniently resting on the holster of his gun. “I give you my word.”
Whisper placed himself beside Rook’s bodyguard. He sat tall and proud, almost as if he’d labelled himself as my bodyguard. Dillon didn’t flinch at the panther’s closeness—revealing the journey from China together had ensured they might not be friends, but they were no longer enemies.
“Dil’s right.” Frank nodded, laying the tools he needed on a stainless tray. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep you alive, but...we need to hurry.”
Are you sure you trust him? I didn’t look at Rook as we sat down.
She kept her eyes on Frank as he bustled about, preparing what needed to be done. I’ve loved him like my favourite uncle since before I could remember. Without him taking over the company, I doubt I would’ve survived after my parents died. So yes...I do trust him. Or at least...I want to.
Frank leaned over the table and placed his tray in front of Rook. Grabbing a syringe, he winced as if he genuinely hated the thought of hurting her. “Just a tiny sting. I’m sorry, little snowflake.”
“It’s fine.” Extending her arm, she stiffened as he swiped her skin with alcohol then pierced her with the needle.
She swayed toward me, exhaustion and discomfort bleeding into me.
I wrapped an arm around her icy shoulders, gritting my teeth as black blood siphoned into the syringe.
I waited for Frank to react to the awful colour. To lose his mind over how bad it looked, but he just gritted his teeth and didn’t say a word.
“Why is it black?” My question came out loud and angry. “Why aren’t you reacting?”
Taking another vial, he withdrew the needle, stuck a Band-Aid on the small prick, then prepared a fresh syringe.
“Do you really want to know?” he asked softly, catching my eyes.
“You swore on your children’s lives that you’d tell us everything.” I sniffed. “Are you backing out already?”
“No. I promise I’ll tell you everything relevant to keeping you alive. I will never hold anything back that will genuinely help. However...there’s a difference between knowing how you feel versus knowing why.”
Rook swallowed hard. “I’m used to you not being able to sugarcoat things, Frank. Tell us.”
His gaze snapped to hers. “Are you sure? Are you sure you want that harsh data in your head when you’re already dealing with so much?”
Do you? Rook slipped into my thoughts. Your call. Frank is one of the smartest guys I’ve ever met but he doesn’t know how to deliver bad news.
I need to know. I fisted my hands on the table.
“Tell us,” Rook repeated firmly.
Sucking in a breath, Frank nodded. “Alright then.” Placing the vials full of Rook’s blood on the stainless-steel tray, he slid out a chair and sat down.
“Let’s start with the fact that you can’t eat anymore. If you can’t stomach even basic sustenance, then...that means your digestive system has already shut down.”
My heart squeezed.
He was right.
Feeling it was different from hearing it.
It made it so much more real. So...final.
“As you know from prior experiments, Rook, the gastrointestinal tract is the first major system to break because it’s the most energy intensive. We’ve seen it in every Requiem subject where the body can no longer process food because it’s too busy rewriting itself on a cellular level. Food, water, even intravenous vitamins are rejected because the cells try to turn immortal yet end in necrosis.”
Rook pressed against me, her worry matching mine.
“What comes next?” I asked quietly.
Frank winced as if he didn’t want to share. “If you follow the same path as the rest, your endocrine system will fail next. You’ll experience extreme temperature swings, emotional instability, and crashing energy levels. The very power that’s making you suffer will do whatever it takes to get free—including breaking apart the host.”
“Jesus...” Dillon muttered from his corner.
“After that, your immune system will collapse.” Frank shut down whatever emotions he had and dissociated, focusing on facts only. “Your own body will start attacking itself as the last remaining cells fight to survive. Respiratory will be next. You’ll find it hard to catch your breath, even at rest. Neurological degradation comes after that—memory lapses, possible seizures as your brain tries to—”
“We get it.” Rook cut in. “You don’t have to tell us anymore—”
“T-The final stage,” he blurted, too entrenched in horror to stop. “Is cardiac and multi-organ failure. Once that happens, you’ll have hours—maybe less—before total systemic collapse.”