Chapter 11 Chapter 11
Making it impossible to know the time.
I paced the small room, counting my steps, forcing my mind to stay active. Trying not to
think about what genetic sequencing would reveal. About what they'd do when they confirmed I
was a Primal.
Finally, the door opened again. Dr. Mitchell returned— but this time, Mr. Xiang walked in with her.
He looked pleased, like someone who'd just won a bet.
"Mia," he said warmly, as if we were old friends. "The preliminary results are extraordinary.
Even more fascinating than I hoped. You're not just a werewolf who can't shift properly—You're something evolutionarily distinct. A Primal, I believe they're called in supernatural circles.
Exceptionally rare. Perhaps fewer than a dozen documented cases in the last century."
"Congratulations," I said bluntly. "You’ve confirmed I'm a freak. Can I go now?”
"Oh no," he laughing. "This is where things get interesting. Your genetic code contains
markers we've never seen before. Sequences that suggest multiple potential transformation
pathways rather than a single fixed form. If we can isolate those markers—replicate them..."
His eyes shone with scientific fervor.
"We could create a treatment that gives people…shapeshifting abilities,”
controlled and directed abilities. The military applications alone would be worth billions."
"You're insane," I said. "You can't just create shapeshifters. It doesn't work that way."
"It doesn't work like that yet," he corrected smoothly. "But with your DNA, we can pioneer an entirely new field of genetic therapy. You could change the world, Mia. Help millions of people."
"By becoming your lab rat," I said. "How generous."
His expression hardened. "I'm offering you a chance to be part of something historic. To
contribute to human advancement. But I don't require your enthusiasm. Only your cooperation."
"And if I don't cooperate?"
"Then we proceed anyway, just less comfortably. Dr. Mitchell has extensive experience with
uncooperative subjects. She's developed quite effective techniques."
For the first time,Dr. Michell looked uncomfortable.
"Mr. Xiang, perhaps we should discuss the
ethical parameters—”
"The ethics are simple," he cut in.
"This research could save lives. Improve lives. The discomfort of one individual is an acceptable cost for progress that could benefit millions. Dr.Mitchell knows this.”
His voice sharpened.
“She's helped me understand that. Haven't you, Doctor?"
The way he said it made my skin tightenedl.There was a threat buried in the question, something
dark beneath the surface.
Dr. Mitchell looked at me, and I saw something in her eyes. Not quite sympathy. Maybe
recognition. Like she'd been where I was once and made choices she regretted.
"The next phase requires tissue samples," she said quietly. "From various transformation points.
We'll need you to attempt shifting while we monitor and collect samples. The inhibitor will be
reduced gradually to allow partial transformation."
"And if I refuse?"
I asked again, even though I already knew the answer.
"We have ways of inducing stress responses," Mr. Xiang said. "Fear, pain, threat to loved
ones—all reliable triggers for shapeshifter transformation. I'd prefer not to use such methods.
They tend to contaminate the data. But I will, if necessary."
The casual way he said it—threat to loved ones, made my blood run cold.
"You said Alex would live. You promised—"
"And he is living, as far as I know," Mr. Xiang said. "But promises are flexible things. They
depend on continued cooperation. You help me, I leave him alone. You resist, and perhaps he
has an unfortunate accident. Perhaps several of his team members have unfortunate accidents.
Perhaps your friend Elena…yes, I know about her,perhaps she has a very unfortunate
accident. Your choice."
I wanted to kill him. Wanted to let the Primal form emerge and tear him apart. But the inhibitor
was still working, keeping my abilities muffled and distant. And even if I could shift, I was
surrounded by guards, in a facility I didn't know, with no idea where I was or how to escape.
"How long?" I asked, my voice shaking with suppressed rage.
"How long do you plan to keepme here?"
"Until we've extracted everything useful," Mr. Xiang said calmly. "Could be weeks. Could be
months. Depends on how quickly we progress. But don't worry. You'll be well cared for… fed,
housed, given medical attention.
.
This isn't a prison, Mia, he said calmly.” It's an opportunity."
Opportunity my foot.
"It's a cage," I replied back.
"Perspective," he replied, with a lazy shrug. "Dr. Mitchell, prepare her for the first transformation trial. I want to see how her genetic structure responds to controlled stress stimuli."
He left without another word, and the door locking behind him with a finality that hit me on the chest.
Dr. Mitchell stood.
For a long moment, not meeting my eyes. When she finally spoke, her voice was
barely a whisper.
"I'm sorry. I know that doesn't mean much… but I am."
"Then help me," I said quickly, stepping closer despite the restrains."Let me go. Call someone. You're a doctor— you took an oatt to save lives.”
She closed her eyes like her word hurts.
"I took an oath…and I broke it a long time ago," she murmured.
"I can't help you escape. But I can make this less painful than it would be under Xiang. I can advocate for humane treatment.
It's not much, but…
Her voice cracked a little.
“... it's all I can offer."
"Why?" I asked.
"Why are you doing this? What did he promise you?"
"He didn't promise anything," she said, and her voice was hollow. "He threatened
.
My daughter is sick. Rare genetic disorder. Mr. Xiang's research could save her. So I help him, and inexchange, she gets access to experimental treatments. That's the deal. That's why I've been complicit in things that make me sick to think about.”
I looked at her—really looked and I saw the exhaustion, the guilt, the desperation of a mother
trying to save her child. I saw myself reflected in her choices, in the impossible situation where
every option led to pain.
"I understand," I said quietly."I wish you didn't," Dr. Mitchell replied.
"I wish you could hate me. It would be easier than this...recognition."
She called for the guards. They escorted me to a different room—larger, filled with medical
equipment and observation cameras. There was a restraint chair in the center, surrounded by
sensors and monitors.
"Please don't make them force you," Dr. Mitchell said. "Sit in the chair. Let us attach the
monitors. It'll hurt less if you don't fight."
I thought about Alex…about Elena, about all the people who'd protected me, helped me
and believed in me. I thought about my parents, about the research they'd done, about the fact
that I was here because of secrets buried in genetic code and corporate greed.
I sat in the chair.
They strapped me in carefully, efficiently. Attached sensors to my head, my chest, my arms. Dr.
Mitchell checked each connection, her hands steady despite everything.
"We're going to reduce the inhibitor gradually," she explained. "You'll start to feel your abilities
returning. When you do, try to shift. Just partially. Just enough for us to observe and measure.
The less you resist, the shorter this will take."
"And if I can't?" I asked.
"The Primal form..."