Chapter 200 The Original Hybrid

Chapter 200 The Original Hybrid
I couldn’t sleep.

Even wrapped in Darius’s arms with rain whispering softly against the windows and warmth surrounding me from every side

I stared into the darkness while Darius slept behind me, his breathing steady against the back of my neck.

And slowly

Against my will

A memory surfaced.

Not fully mine.

Not exactly.

A conversation.

Fragments from that night in Calder’s cell after Fred shut off the cameras.

I remembered the dim emergency lights casting shadows across concrete walls while the scientist sat restrained in silence for several long seconds after I entered alone.

No performance then.

No madness.

Just exhaustion.

I stood across from him with my arms folded tightly.

“You said my father carried something to the grave.”

Calder studied me quietly.

Then asked softly:

“Did Jack ever tell you about the boy?”

I frowned immediately.

“What boy?”

The scientist leaned back slightly in the restraint chair.And something in his expression changed. Not fear but Regret.

“He was the first.”

Cold unease slid through me even in memory.

“The first what?”

Calder’s eyes drifted toward the darkened cameras overhead before returning to me. “The first integration attempt your father controlled personally.” Silence.

Then quietly: “He wasn’t supposed to survive long enough.” My stomach tightened.

“What was his name?”

Calder shook his head slowly.

“We stopped using names after a while.”

The words made something ugly twist inside my chest. Calder looked suddenly older beneath the flickering lights. “He was the child of a wolf and a human woman.” His voice lowered. “Rare union. Illegal in several territories at the time.”

I remembered frowning.

“Hybrid offspring.”

“No.” Calder corrected softly. “Not truly.”

Confusion tightened across my face.

Calder noticed immediately.

“Children born from those unions don’t become both,” he explained quietly. “The body chooses.” Cold settled slowly beneath my ribs. “He was born human.” Something painful flickered briefly across Calder’s face.

“And he hated it.”

The memory sharpened harder around me now. I remembered the silence between us. The way the underground cell suddenly felt colder.

“He grew up watching his wolf relatives shift while he stayed weak.” Calder swallowed slightly. “Human. Fragile. Ordinary.”

His gaze lifted toward me carefully.

“You don’t understand how cruel wolves can become toward what they consider lesser.” I thought about ancient bloodline laws. Territory hierarchies.

Pureblood politics.

Yes.

Actually

I did understand. Calder exhaled shakily. “The boy wanted to become a wolf more than anything.”Something about the way he said it hurt unexpectedly.

Because beneath all the horror

At the center of this story

Was still a child.

I remembered asking quietly:

“How old was he?”

“Twelve.”

Calder looked down at his restrained hands.“Jack found him through bloodline screening programs. Promised him transformation.” His voice roughened. “Promised he could become stronger.”

I felt sick even in memory.

“My father lied.”

Calder laughed softly.

“Yes.”

Silence stretched heavily between us.

Then he whispered:

“But I think Jack believed the lie at first.”

That unsettled me immediately.

“What do you mean?”

Calder looked toward me slowly.

“Your father didn’t start as a monster.”

The words made anger spark instantly beneath my skin.

“He experimented on children.”

“Yes.”

No defense.

No denial.

Calder rubbed bloodied fingers slowly against the restraint chain.

“But obsession changes shape over time.”

I remembered the tension building beneath my ribs.

The fear.

Because somehow I already knew this story ended horribly.

“What did he do to the boy?”

The scientist closed his eyes briefly.

And when he answered

His voice sounded haunted.

“Everything.”

The memory twisted sharper.

Concrete walls.

Dim lights.

Calder speaking quietly while the world outside slept.

“Jack believed wolf physiology could adapt to forced hybridization more efficiently than humans.” He swallowed visibly. “But the boy didn’t possess active wolf genetics. Only dormant blood inheritance.”

I remembered staring at him.

“He used vampire blood.”

Calder nodded slowly.

“Alongside accelerated adrenal catalysts. Bone restructuring agents. Neural adaptation conditioning.”

The clinical language somehow made it worse.

Not because it sounded cruel.

Because it sounded practiced.

Routine.

Like suffering became ordinary after long enough.

“What happened to him?”

Silence.

Then quietly:

“He survived longer than expected.”

Cold crept slowly down my spine.

Calder looked pale beneath the interrogation lights now.

“Jack became obsessed with the possibility of forced species integration.” His eyes lifted toward mine. “Not wolf. Not vampire.”

My pulse slowed dangerously.

“Both.”

“Yes.”

The word barely left his mouth.

I remembered my heartbeat thundering painfully inside that underground cell.

“He wanted to merge them.”

Calder nodded once.

“He believed natural biological limitations were failures of evolution.” His voice weakened slightly. “And the boy…” A terrible sadness crossed his face. “The boy trusted him.”

God.

Something cracked painfully inside my chest.

Twelve years old.

Desperate to belong.

Desperate to become something stronger.

And my father used that desperation like a weapon.

I remembered whispering:

“What did he do to him?”

Calder stared at the floor for a long moment before answering.

“Repeated forced transitions.”

The words sounded careful.

Measured.

Like he still couldn’t fully say it aloud.

“The body rejected the integrations constantly.” He swallowed hard. “Organs failed. Bones broke during partial shifts.” His breathing roughened. “There were weeks he couldn’t speak because his jaw kept restructuring incorrectly.”

Nausea rolled violently through me.

Calder continued quietly.

“Jack kept adjusting the formulas.” His eyes unfocused slightly. “More vampire blood. More wolf catalysts. More pain.”

I remembered gripping the edge of the metal table so hard my claws nearly cut through it.

“And nobody stopped him?”

Calder laughed bitterly.

“We told ourselves it was progress.”

Silence.

Then softly:

“We were cowards.”

The underground cell suddenly felt suffocating again in memory.

I remembered asking the question almost without wanting the answer.

“What went wrong?”

Calder looked directly at me then.

And for the first time—

Real terror crossed his face.

“The boy adapted.”

Cold flooded my entire body.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Calder’s breathing turned uneven.

“Not correctly. Not stably. But enough.”

My pulse hammered violently now.

“He became violent.”

The scientist laughed once softly.

“Violent?” His eyes looked haunted. “Lyra… he became catastrophic.”

The room around me blurred slightly as memory swallowed me deeper.

Calder’s voice lowered almost to a whisper.

“One night the restraints failed during a transition cycle.”

Silence.

Then:

“He escaped.”

I remembered the way the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead while Calder stared at something far away.

“The security footage lasted eleven minutes.”

My throat tightened painfully.

“What happened?”

Calder looked sick.

“He killed everyone.”

Not shouted.

Not dramatic.

Just fact.

“He tore through the laboratory levels before containment could activate.” His voice cracked slightly. “Staff. guards. scientists.” He swallowed hard. “Jack barely survived.”

Something icy settled beneath my ribs.

“How?”

Calder’s eyes slowly lifted toward me.

“He ran.”

Silence.

Then softly:

“Your father abandoned the facility and sealed the lower levels behind him.”

The memory hit harder now.

Because suddenly I understood.

Jack Soren didn’t bury the project because it failed.

He buried it because he lost control of it.

And somewhere beneath all the laboratories and systems and bloodline experiments Something survived long enough to terrify even him.