Chapter 35
Lirael
He knows. Oh god, he fucking knows.
Sebastian's casual mention of "prosthetics" echoed in my head as Ethan droned on about security systems. My hands shook as I pressed the handkerchief to my face, feeling the putty hold firm but knowing it didn't matter.
He knows and he's playing with me. Letting me think I'm getting away with it just so he can pull the rug out later.
The car rolled on and with every mile, the noose around my neck tightened. I'd passed his first test—barely. But that word, dropped so casually into conversation, told me everything.
Prosthetics.
Not "features." Not "skin." Prosthetics.
He was telling me he knew. Telling me he was letting me continue this charade for his own amusement. The question was: how long would he let me play before he ended the game?
My stomach churned with fear and anger in equal measure. I wanted to rip off the prosthetics, claw at his smug face, scream that yes, I was Lirael, and what the fuck was he going to do about it?
But I couldn't. Because the moment I confirmed it, the moment I admitted defeat, I'd lose what little leverage I had left.
One more performance. Get through the meeting. Figure out what was stolen. Then deal with Sebastian's mind games.
I pressed my hands flat against my thighs, feeling muscle tense beneath my palms.
Just a little longer. Hold it together just a little longer.
---
The facility rose from the coastline—glass and steel, sterile and imposing. As our convoy crossed the guarded bridge, I felt the weight of what I was about to do settle over me like a shroud.
Sebastian's hand found my back as we exited the vehicle, proprietary and possessive. To anyone watching, we looked like a powerful Alpha and his business associate. But I felt the coiled tension in his touch, violence barely held in check.
"Stay close," he murmured against my ear, breath hot on my skin. Goosebumps rose along my arms. "I'd hate for you to get lost."
You mean you'd hate for me to escape.
But I smiled, expression like broken glass cutting from inside. "Of course. I wouldn't dream of wandering off."
His laugh was low and dark, vibrating through his chest against my shoulder blade. "No," he agreed, fingers flexing possessively against my spine. "I don't think you would."
As we walked through the gleaming entrance, a man in a white coat rushed forward. Dr. Vance, I assumed—mid-fifties, graying at the temples, face drawn with stress and exhaustion.
"Mr. Blackwood, Mr. Kane, thank you for coming on such short notice." His eyes skated over me, lingering on my face with poorly concealed discomfort before he forced them away. "And you must be Miss Fish. Welcome."
"Thank you for having us, Dr. Vance." I kept my voice smooth, professional, even as my skin crawled under his stare. "I understand the situation is quite serious."
"Serious doesn't begin to cover it." He gestured for us to follow, leading us deeper into the facility. "A year's worth of research, destroyed. Our most valuable samples, stolen. And the method of entry—" He shook his head. "It's unlike anything we've seen before."
We moved through corridors lined with reinforced doors and biometric scanners. The air smelled sterile, chemical, wrong. My skin prickled with awareness of how many creatures might be locked behind these walls, studied and dissected in the name of science.
Just like I was, three years ago.
"You mentioned on the phone that you believe the intruder was... non-human?" Ethan asked, notebook already out.
Dr. Vance's expression darkened. "The evidence suggests something with extraordinary strength and possibly the ability to manipulate plant matter. Security footage shows—well, you'll see for yourselves."
We reached an elevator. Dr. Vance swiped his badge, pressed the button for the seventh floor. The doors closed and we descended in tense silence.
Sebastian stood behind me, close enough that I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. His hand remained on my lower back, thumb moving in small circles that might have looked affectionate to an outsider but felt like a brand burning through my dress.
He's reminding me. That I'm his. That no matter what mask I wear, he owns me.
The elevator dinged. Doors opened onto chaos.
The seventh floor looked like a war zone. Glass littered the floor, crunching under our feet as we stepped out. Research equipment lay scattered and broken. Computer screens were cracked, papers strewn everywhere.
But it was the walls that made my breath catch.
Black, twisted marks covered them—not burn marks, but something else. Something organic. They looked like roots, like vines, but wrong. Corrupted. The pattern was familiar in a way that made my stomach turn.
Plant manipulation. But not like mine. This is... sick. Twisted.
"The break-in occurred three nights ago," Dr. Vance explained, leading us deeper into the destruction. "Security was bypassed—no alarms triggered. By the time our night staff discovered it, the intruder was gone."
He stopped in front of what had once been a climate-controlled storage unit. The door hung off its hinges, metal twisted like paper. Inside, shattered vials and broken equipment.
"This is where we kept the lunar protein samples," Dr. Vance said, voice tight with anger and grief. "Extracted from deep-sea jellyfish that only surface during full moons. The concentration was the highest we'd ever achieved. Years of work. Gone."
I stepped closer, careful to keep my expression neutral even as my mind raced. Lunar proteins. Close enough to moon dew to be dangerous. If someone's studying the connection—
"Dr. Vance," I said carefully, "why are you so certain this was done by a 'strange creature' rather than a human thief with the right tools?"
He turned to me, expression grave. "Because of this."
He led us to the wall, pointing at the black marks. "This facility is built on an island. We're completely isolated. Only authorized personnel can access it. A normal thief would use tools, explosives, cutting equipment. This—" He gestured at the twisted metal, the organic-looking marks on the walls. "This was done with bare hands. Or claws. And look at this."
He crouched down, pointing at the floor. Among the glass shards were fragments of something else—small, dark, crystalline.
"Scale fragments," he said. "But not from any known species. They're partially organic, partially synthetic. As if someone tried to... combine different creatures at a genetic level."
My blood ran cold. Genesis Foundation. They're making hybrids.
I'd seen them on Black Reef Island—the failed experiments, the creatures that were neither one thing nor another, driven mad by what had been done to them.
"And there's more," Dr. Vance continued, straightening. "Since that incident at Stillwater Coast—those sightings of silver-haired creatures—we've been on high alert. The timing is too convenient. Those things appear, and suddenly our facility is attacked?" He shook his head. "They're connected. They have to be."
Those things. He's talking about my people. About other lunar elves.
Rage flared hot in my chest, but I forced it down, kept my face neutral. "That's quite a leap, Dr. Vance. Correlation doesn't equal causation."
"Doesn't it?" He turned to me, eyes hard. "We're talking about creatures that shouldn't exist, Miss Fish. Monsters that attack human facilities and steal our research. If they're not responsible, then who is?"
Monsters. We're monsters to him.
I wanted to scream that my people weren't monsters. That we'd been here long before humans decided to hunt us, study us, cage us. That whatever attacked this facility, it wasn't some mindless beast—it was probably another victim of the Genesis Foundation, twisted and used and discarded.
But I couldn't say any of that. Not without revealing everything.
So I pressed my lips together, forced myself to nod. "I see your point."
Sebastian's hand tightened on my back. I could feel his gaze on me, assessing. He knows I'm holding back. He knows I want to defend them.
"If I may," Ethan interjected, ever the diplomat, "what exactly was taken besides the lunar protein samples?"
Dr. Vance pulled out a tablet, scrolling through a list. "Genetic material from several rare species. Research notes on cellular regeneration. And—" He paused, expression darkening further. "Our entire database on moon-responsive organisms. Everything we'd compiled on creatures whose biology changes with lunar cycles."
They're hunting us. Studying us. Trying to understand how we work so they can—what? Replicate it? Weaponize it?
I felt sick. Trapped in this sterile facility, surrounded by the evidence of what humans did to creatures they didn't understand, while wearing a mask of ugliness to hide from a predator who already knew exactly what I was.
I need to see those scale fragments. I need to know what Genesis created.
But Sebastian was watching me too closely. And Dr. Vance was still talking, gesturing at the destruction with barely concealed fury.
"The board wants answers," Dr. Vance said, turning to Sebastian and Ethan. "You're our largest investors. If we can't guarantee security, if these... creatures... can simply walk in and destroy our work—" He spread his hands helplessly. "We need to know if you're still committed to this project."
This is it. The moment where I prove I'm just an investor. Where I show no emotional connection to any of this.
I straightened my shoulders, channeled every ounce of cold calculation I'd learned from three years of survival. "Dr. Vance, I'm committed to protecting my investment. If these creatures destroyed your research, then I want them found and eliminated. Whatever it takes."