Chapter 3: Veins of Deceit

Chapter 3: Veins of Deceit

****************

The morgue's fluorescent lights hummed like a swarm of cicadas, casting pallid light over the autopsy table. Seraphina gloved her hands, the latex snapping against her wrists like a dare. The body before her—Patient Seven—was a grotesque tapestry of ruptured veins and petechial hemorrhages. His skin, once flushed with fever, now bore the waxy pallor of death.

*Coagulopathy*, she noted, scalpel hovering. *But why?*

She sliced into the Y-incision, the metallic tang of blood thickening the air. The nurse assisting her gagged and fled, but Seraphina's focus remained surgical. The liver was necrotic, the spleen engorged. She extracted a tissue sample, her mind racing. *Hemorrhagic shock, but no pathogen detected. Unless…*

"Looking for answers in dead things, Doctor?"

Xavier's voice slithered through the sterile silence.

Seraphina didn't flinch. "You're supposed to be chained to a bed."

"Chains are such *quaint* inconveniences." His shadow loomed against the wall, elongated and serpentine. "Admit it—you're intrigued. I can *smell* your curiosity."

She turned. He leaned against the doorway, cuffs dangling from one wrist like macabre jewelry. His violet eyes glinted, tracking her every microexpression.

"Did you do this?" She gestured to the corpse.

He tutted. "So accusatory. What if I said this… *artistry*… is nature's design?"

"Nature doesn't dissolve fibrinogen." She held up a vial of the patient's blood. "This is engineered. A anticoagulant toxin. The kind your biotech division specializes in."

Xavier's smile sharpened. "Ah, but Laurent Industries has many *admirers*. Tell me, little sparrow—have you met the cuckoo in your nest?"

**The Library of Shadows**

Rosengard's archives were a sepulcher of forgotten records. Dust motes danced in the slatted light as Seraphina combed through employee files. Xavier's taunt gnawed at her: *cuckoo in your nest*. A mole. Someone with access to restricted labs.

A name surfaced—Dr. Elias Voss, Rosengard's former pharmacologist. Fired six months prior for "ethical breaches." The novel hadn't mentioned him, but the real world was messier than fiction.

"Voss worked on blood-thinning trials," Lucian said, materializing beside her. He tossed a file on the desk. "Laurent Industries funded his research before they disavowed him."

Seraphina's brow arched. "Convenient."

"You think Xavier's manipulating him?"

"I think Xavier manipulates *oxygen molecules* just by breathing." She flipped through the file. "Voss's termination date aligns with the first patient's symptoms. Find him."

Lucian hesitated. "This isn't a police state, Vale."

"No," she said coldly. "It's a graveyard. And I refuse to dig my own plot."

**The Garden of Poison**

Eleanor Vance arrived at Rosengard at dusk, her cerulean eyes wide with performative concern. "I've come to donate to the asylum's charity," she announced, clutching a check like a talisman.

Seraphina watched from the stairwell, skepticism curdling her gut. In the novel, Eleanor's naivety made her prey. Here, it made her a liability.

"Miss Vance." Seraphina intercepted her in the lobby. "This isn't a galà. The danger here isn't theoretical."

Eleanor's laugh tinkled. "Oh, Dr. Vale, you're so serious! Xavier would never hurt *me*."

Seraphina's jaw tightened. *Because he's too busy hunting me.*

A scream shattered the moment.

They sprinted toward Ward C, where a patient convulsed on the floor, black bile frothing from his lips. Seraphina dropped to her knees, rolling him onto his side.

"Get a crash cart!" she barked. Eleanor stood frozen, her check fluttering to the ground like a wounded bird.

The patient's hand lashed out, seizing Seraphina's throat. His eyes—once hazel—were now obsidian voids.

"*He*… *sees*… *you*," the man gurgled, his grip inhuman.

Then he went limp.

**Xavier's Gambit**

The surveillance feed glitched, pixels scattering like ash. Xavier leaned back in his "cell"—a gilded cage of his own design—and sipped bourbon from a crystal glass. The mole stood before him, trembling.

"She's close to Voss," the figure whispered.

"Good." Xavier swirled the amber liquid. "Let her taste the chase. Let her *hunger*."

"And if she uncovers the truth?"

Xavier's laugh was a velvet threat. "Truth is a mirror, and our dear doctor is terrified of her own reflection."

**Seraphina's Epiphany**

Alone in her office, Seraphina studied the toxin's molecular structure. The compound was elegant, lethal—a masterpiece of malice.

Her phone buzzed. An anonymous message:

**Unknown Number:** *Check the ventilation system.*

The asylum's blueprints unfurled in her mind. The vents connected every ward. A perfect delivery system.

She descended into the boiler room, flashlight slicing through grime. The vent cover pried open easily. Inside, residue glistened—a synthetic powder, odorless, weightless.

*Inhalation-based. Slow-release.*

Footsteps echoed behind her.

"Clever girl," Xavier purred. "But curiosity killed the cardiologist."

She spun. He stood inches away, his breath a whisper of bergamot and danger.

"You're behind this," she said, refusing to retreat.

"Behind, beside, *inside*." His finger traced her jaw. "You're a paradox, Seraphina Vale. A healer who thrives in decay. *I want to unspool you.*"

She slapped his hand away. "I'll bury you."

His grin turned feral. "Darling, I'll dig my way out just to haunt you."

----------------

**End of Chapter 3**