Chapter 29

Chapter 29
Nyra 
It’s only been two days. Two days since I last dragged myself from bed, still flushed and aching, my body worn thin by something I can’t name. I’d thought the fever might pass, that a day of sleep and forced stillness might bring relief. It didn’t. I’m not better exactly. But I’m here. The lights overhead are too bright. My skin feels exposed, even under fabric. Each step down the corridor toward Sublevel Three makes me wince, my bones still vibrating from the aftershocks of whatever I went through. No one questions the pallor in my face or the trembling in my fingers—they probably think I’m still sick. Maybe I am. 

Teyla eyes me carefully when I arrive, her mouth pulling into something tight and unreadable. “You're back early.” 

I nod. I don’t trust my voice yet. 

“Gamma's yours again. You good?” 

I nod again. Lie again. 

As we descend the secured stairwell, the concrete underfoot feels like it hums. The weight of the floor itself pressing back. The moment I step onto the lower level—the exact second my boot hits the hallway leading to the cages—a sound tears through the silence like thunder cracking steel. A growl. Deep. Massive. Violent. The kind of sound that bypasses your ears and echoes through your ribs. 

Teyla flinches. Everyone flinches. The others—two handlers stationed at opposite ends of the hall—snap to attention. One nearly drops the med tray he’s holding. Their eyes go to the reinforced door at the far end. They don’t need to check the monitors to know where it came from. 

"The alpha?" one mutters. 

“Sedation hasn’t worn off, but he's had a couple of ruff days,” says another, too quickly. 

“Did he see something?” 

“What could he have seen ?” 

They’re arguing now. Whispering sharp and fast. And still, I feel it. The vibration of that sound still in my spine. 

Teyla stiffens beside me. “Jesus. That was—he shouldn’t be able to make noise like that. Not when he’s bound.” 

“What triggered it?” 

Another pause. They all look around. Then they look at me. No one says it. No one dares. But it’s there. In the hush. In the way their eyes narrow. I'm not scared enough for them. I step back instinctively. 

“I’ll take care of the gamma,” I say, voice brittle. 

“Alone?” Teyla asks. 

“I’ve done it before.” 

She hesitates. Then nods once, sharply. “Ten minutes. I’ll be outside.” 

I nod, slipping inside. The door hisses closed behind me, and silence settles again. The gamma is sitting on the edge of his cot, shirtless, damp hair clinging to his skin. Steam from the recently-used shower still curls along the ceiling. He watches me with sharp eyes that flick briefly to the door, then back. I freeze. He grins. 

“You smell different today,” he says. 

I swallow. “What?” 

He shrugs one shoulder. “Nothing.” 

The look in his eyes says otherwise. 

I step closer with the tray. “You hungry?” 

He eats slowly, deliberately, but the way he watches me makes it feel like he’s dissecting every move I make. Not with hunger. With curiosity. Or worse—recognition. I sit on the far side of the room, pretending to check my notes. Anything to avoid the weight of his gaze. 

“Was that for you?” he asks suddenly. 

My head snaps up. “What?” 

He takes another bite. Chews. Swallows. “The growl.” 

I blink. Say nothing. He leans forward, balancing his tray on one knee. “He’s never made a sound like that. Not even when they tried to break him.” 

“Maybe the sedation wore off early,” I mutter. 

The gamma laughs. A low, dry thing that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sure.” 

I stare at him. “What are you trying to say?” 

He raises both brows, feigning innocence. “Nothing.” Then, as he turns back to his tray, he adds, “But if he was to do it again, I bet it'd be louder.” 

A second growl echoes through the concrete. My breath catches. Louder. Sharper. Closer. This time, even the gamma looks toward the wall. 

“You really don’t know, do you?” he murmurs. 

I step forward, my voice low. “Know what?” 

He looks up at me slowly. “What you smell like.” 

Silence stretches between us, thick and strange. 

I gather the tray quickly. “Time’s up.” 

“Pity. We were having so much fun.” 

As I open the door, the third growl crashes through the corridor—a sound of metal meeting fury. Distant voices bark orders. Something thuds against reinforced steel. Handlers are shouting. Calling for resets. Dosing protocols. I glance once toward the end of the hallway. 

Rane. 

He knows I’m here. And this time, I can't pretend otherwise. 

I don’t go back. Not tonight. Even if my legs would carry me, even if my hands didn’t tremble when I reach for the walls—he’ll be more guarded now. After that. After me. I lie on my side, knees tucked up, one arm curled beneath my head. My room is dim, only the soft blue light from the monitor flickering across the wall. I watch it blink. Breathe with it. Pretend it’s enough. It isn’t. The sound of him hasn’t left me. That growl. The rage in it. The way it wasn’t meant to intimidate or threaten—it was meant to call. 

It was for me. 

I press my fingers to my lips, trying to stop the spiral, but it’s already started. The gamma’s voice. Smooth. Almost amused. 

You really don’t know, do you? What you smell like. 

I thought he didn’t talk. I’ve watched his feed a hundred times. Read the reports. "Uncooperative. Silent. Difficult." A risk assessment so long they had to bind it with a second clip. And yet today, he smiled. Spoke. Teased. 
Why? 
I don’t like mysteries I can’t solve. 
Especially when they circle back to the same locked door. The same cage. The same name only I seem to know.