Not going

"Is she dead?"

"Don't know. Go check, Derek. No, I mean that thing—it went for her neck, right?"

"Yeah, where the carotid artery is. You know, the carotid sheath? There's no way she could've survived a bite in that area."

"How do you know? We're so far away, and it's dark. How could you have seen it more clearly than the rest of us?"

"Guys, I'm telling you—her artery was slit by the teeth of her ex-boyfriend."

Man, if they could only keep their thoughts to themselves. Ella thought, very much alive—though barely. Her heart was still hammering against her chest, her body trembling from the near-death ordeal. She could hardly believe it. She was here, breathing… and pinned under the dead weight of her ex.

Wait. Was he dead?

She hadn't done anything to him. She couldn't have done anything to him. She had been bracing herself for the unpleasurable end when, out of nowhere, Derek had suddenly collapsed—like a drunken man tripping over his own feet. He'd toppled forward, slamming into her with all his weight. One moment, there had been snarling and growling, a cacophony of chaos—and then, silence. Just like that.

It took a second for the realization to sink in. Haloperidol. Yep, that was it. The drug had kicked in at the most unexpected yet most needed moment. Cheers to the power of science and medicine.

Ella tried to shift but barely managed to move under Derek's heavy form. She was drained from the struggle, and now she had to deal with the added challenge of freeing herself from his sedated bulk. She had hoped the drug would work, but she hadn't been confident—especially not on him. Derek wasn't human. At least, not entirely. And that was a puzzle Ella still needed to solve.

I seriously need to move him—he's crushing my lungs.

Just as she had that thought, the burden was suddenly lifted. Ella turned her head to find Wendy kneeling beside her, trembling like a leaf in a storm. Her wide, panicked eyes darted around, never settling. She clutched her injured arm, her fingers tightening over the fabric of her sleeve.

"A-Are you okay?" Wendy stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ella sat up with some effort, dusting herself off. "Yeah. Thanks."

Wendy, however, still looked on the verge of a breakdown. She's more of a nervous wreck than I am. Panic attacks? Ella wondered. Well, she helped me. I should calm her down.

"They won't shoot," Ella said, watching Wendy flinch at the mere mention of the soldiers.

"How do you know? Earlier they—"

"That was because you were over the line. So was I. They shoot when we or anything that belongs to us crosses that line. We're far from it now, so we're safe." For now.

Ella didn't add the last part. She doubted Wendy could handle it.

Just as she braced herself to stand, a low rumbling reached her ears. The ground beneath her trembled. No—not the ground. Footsteps. Rhythmic, synchronized. Marching. The soldiers.

Ella shot to her feet, and Wendy followed suit.

The soldiers stopped just ahead, their leader stepping forward. Three of them immediately moved to Derek's side, checking his condition. Ella clenched her fists. She wasn't their concern, and that was fine by her. But just as she was about to step past the leader, he spoke.

"Well, well. Guess you weren't just talking big. You've got some fight in you."

Ella's gaze snapped to him, sharp and unwavering. "Why didn't you help?"

She didn't care how hostile she sounded. They had watched her almost die.

The leader chuckled, completely unfazed. "If we stepped in, how would we have measured the strength of the top performer in this batch?"

Ella's blood ran cold. A test? Her fingers curled into fists so tightly her nails dug into her palms. "And if things had gone too far? Would you have intervened?"

She already knew the answer.

"Of course. Your safety is our top priority," he said smoothly.

Liar.

Ella turned, prepared to give him a piece of her mind—but another voice interrupted her.

"Look, everyone! It's our beloved professors."

"What are they doing down here?"

"Excuse me! Tell your men to put him down!" Professor Zane's voice rang out, cutting through the murmur of the crowd.

Ella turned. Three soldiers were carrying Derek away. Where are they taking him?

The team leader faced Professor Zane, expression unmoved. "We can't do that, Doctor."

"It's Professor! And why not? I am commanding you."

"Because I commanded them first, Professor. Now tell me, between you and me, who do you think they should listen to?"

A familiar voice. Ella stiffened.

She couldn't see him, but then her eyes landed on the soldier holding up a phone. A video call. And there, on the screen, was him.

Killian.

"You don't understand, Commander Killian. That student is not someone you can just take," Professor Zane insisted.

Killian laughed. "Is that so? Then send his father—or whoever's backing him—to AZA-19. I command those soldiers. You demanded them from me, and now you'll follow my orders. That student? He's a possible infectee. He needs to be detained."

Killian didn't even wait for Zane's response before addressing his soldiers. "Make sure the girl comes in for questioning, too."

Ella felt her stomach drop. Questioning? What the hell had she done? If anything, it was they who needed to be questioned.

"Yes, Commander." The call ended.

Ella stood frozen, fury building inside her. Her fists clenched, her jaw locked.

I am not going.