They'd started calling her a stabilizer in the van.
At Site Twelve, the word sounded less like a compliment and more like a job title you couldn't quit.
Site Twelve wasn't a building.
It was a swallowed place.
A squat structure hidden behind an abandoned industrial park, cameras tucked into corners, fences layered like scars. The kind of facility that didn't exist on maps because maps were for civilians.
They walked Nora through a corridor that smelled like bleach and cold metal.
The courier box rode against her side in its evidence sleeve, clipped to her like an ankle monitor.
Every step made the plastic crinkle—quiet proof that this started with a delivery.
Every door opened with a scan. Every camera followed her.
Kaelen's presence warped the air—heat shimmer and silent menace—yet the personnel didn't flinch.
That scared Nora more than their guns.
They weren't brave.
They were trained.
Or worse—
Accustomed.
They separated them at a reinforced checkpoint.
A thick steel door slid between Nora and Kaelen with a sound like a coffin closing.
Kaelen's fingers tightened once around Nora's hand.
Then the door took it away.
The moment the distance opened, Nora felt it—the surge.
Heat rising.
A pressure behind her eyes, like someone was pushing a thumb into her skull.
From the other side of the door came a low, animal sound.
Not a scream.
A warning.
The hallway's lights flickered.
The soldiers stiffened.
Nora turned sharply. "Don't—" She swallowed blood-taste and forced the word out. "Kaelen. Stay."
White flashed. Pain punched through her temples.
The flicker stopped.
The hallway held.
Someone behind her muttered, "Jesus."
Nora swayed and caught herself on the wall.
A door opened ahead.
"Ma'am," a new voice said. "This way."
He wasn't in armor.
He wore a clean black suit and no visible weapon. No helmet. No visor. Just a tie, a badge clipped to his belt, and eyes that looked like they'd never forgotten anything in their lives.
He offered Nora a bottle of water as if they were in a conference room instead of a blacksite.
"Nora," he said smoothly. "I'm Zane."
His eyes dipped to the evidence sleeve at her hip.
"Keep it," he added, almost casually. "For now."
A permission that sounded like a leash in better packaging.
Nora didn't take the water.
Zane smiled anyway—small, polite, sharp.
"You're dehydrated," he said. "And you're in pain."
Nora hated that he saw it.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"The person who stops them from turning you into a lab sample," Zane replied, as if he were talking about office politics. "If you let me."
Nora stared at him.
"I want to see him," she said.
Zane didn't blink. "You will. When we understand what you are."
"I'm not—"
"A myth? A miracle? A liability?" Zane shrugged lightly. "Those words change depending on who's funding the building."
He stepped aside, opening the door behind him.
Inside was a small, bright room. White walls. A table bolted to the floor. Two chairs. A camera in the corner that didn't pretend to be discreet.
Nora walked in. Zane followed.
He didn't close the door all the way.
A subtle choice.
A message: I'm not trapping you.
He sat opposite her, folding his hands.
"You stabilized the asset," he said. "In front of dozens of witnesses."
Nora flinched at the word.
"Don't call him that."
Zane's eyebrow lifted slightly. "You have strong feelings already."
"It's not feelings," Nora snapped. "It's… survival."
Zane nodded, as if agreeing. "Good. Survival is rational. It can be negotiated."
Nora's pulse thudded.
"Negotiated how?"
Zane leaned in—just a fraction. Close enough that Nora could see the faint scar at his hairline, like someone had once tried to take his head apart and failed.
"You cooperate," he said softly. "You tell us what your 'cold' is. How it works. What it costs."
Nora's fingers curled under the table. "And if I don't?"
Zane's smile didn't change.
"Then someone with less patience than me makes your choices for you."
Nora swallowed.
"Where is he?"
Zane tapped his fingers once on the table.
A screen on the wall flickered to life.
Kaelen stood in a containment chamber—thick glass, heat sensors, restraints anchored to the floor. He wasn't pacing.
He was still.
Too still.
His eyes were on the camera like he could see through it.
Like he could see Nora.
On the screen, Kaelen's gaze flicked—sideways.
Not at the camera.
At the man standing too close to her in the room.
Heat rippled along the containment glass.
Zane, without looking away from Nora, took one measured step back.
Nora's throat tightened.
Zane watched her reaction the way a gambler watched dice.
"He's not calm," Zane said. "Not without you."
Kaelen's fingers flexed against the restraints.
The air in his chamber shimmered.
Nora felt it even through the screen—like the building itself was warming.
Zane's voice stayed smooth. "We can keep him contained. For a while."
Nora's jaw clenched. "And when 'a while' ends?"
Zane's gaze sharpened. "Then we'll need you. Constantly. Which is… inconvenient."
Nora stared at him.
He wasn't threatening her.
He was laying out a spreadsheet of doom.
Nora's stomach sank.
Zane wasn't scared. He was doing math.
On the monitor, Kaelen's numbers jumped—and every tech's eyes slid to her, waiting.
She was the only thing here that could make the spike stop.
Nora exhaled slowly.
"Okay," she said. "We're negotiating."
Zane's eyes flicked—approval. "Good."
Nora leaned forward.
"My terms," she said, voice low and steady. "One: You stop calling him an asset. Two: You don't touch me without asking. Three: I see him when I say I need to."
Zane's expression didn't change.
But something in his posture—microscopic—shifted.
Interest.
"Bold," he murmured.
Nora met his gaze.
"I'm not bold," she said. "I'm necessary."
Zane's smile finally widened—just a fraction.
"Fine," he said. "Provisional agreement."
Nora didn't relax.
"Four," she added. "Dave—my manager. The one who—" Her throat tightened. "What happens to him?"
Zane's eyes cooled. "He assaulted you. He obstructed a containment response. He lied on record. He's… finished."
A small, vicious relief unfurled in Nora's chest.
Zane watched it happen.
"You like consequences," he observed.
Nora's voice turned flat. "I like justice."
Zane stood. "Come."
He led her down another corridor.
They stopped at a thick glass observation window.
Inside, Kaelen stood restrained—head tilted, eyes burning.
Nora stepped close to the glass.
Kaelen's gaze locked on her instantly.
The heat in the chamber steadied, like the sight of her alone was a leash.
Nora swallowed.
Then she lifted her hand and placed her palm against the glass.
Kaelen mirrored her from the other side.
His fingers splayed to match hers, separated by inches and a barrier of reinforced transparency.
He spoke.
The sound wasn't loud.
But it made the hairs on Nora's arms rise.
"Come here."
Zane's voice cut in, mild. "He doesn't understand protocol."
Nora didn't take her eyes off Kaelen.
"He understands rules," she said.
Then she turned—slowly—and looked at Zane.
"Let me in."
Zane studied her for a heartbeat.
Then he swiped his badge.
A door hissed open.
"Five minutes," Zane said. "And keep your hands visible."
Nora didn't answer.
She stepped into the chamber.
Kaelen's heat hit her like stepping into summer after a blizzard.
His breathing changed immediately—deepening, steadying. The ember-lines along his neck dimmed from molten to glowing coal.
He leaned forward as much as restraints allowed, eyes devouring her.
Nora took one step closer.
Then stopped.
"Rules," she said.
Kaelen's gaze sharpened.
Nora lifted her chin. "You don't order me."
A long, tense beat.
Then Kaelen's mouth curled.
Not a smile.
A predator acknowledging a challenge.
"What do you want, woman?" he asked, voice rough.
Nora's heart hammered.
She could feel Zane watching from the other side of the glass.
She could feel the entire building listening.
Nora looked at Kaelen and chose her next words carefully.
"I want you alive," she said. "And I want me safe."
Kaelen's eyes burned.
"Then stay," he said.
Nora's head throbbed.
She didn't command him this time.
She did something different.
She reached out and placed her palm against his chest.
Heat surged.
Pain flared behind her eyes—
and then steadied into cold control.
Kaelen exhaled, long and shaking.
The chamber's sensors beeped as temperature dropped across the glass.
Nora held him there—one hand on a king's heart—while the blacksite watched.
From behind the glass, Zane's gaze narrowed—clinical.
Not jealousy. Not yet.
He looked at her the way he'd looked at the readings.
Nora.
Not a person.
A handle.
Zane pressed a button.
His voice came through the chamber speaker, close as a whisper.
"Step back from him, Nora."
Kaelen's eyes snapped to the glass—pure, murderous offense.
Nora didn't move.
She simply tightened her palm over Kaelen's heart and met Zane's gaze.
"Rule," she said, voice steady. "You ask. I decide."
A beat.
Then Kaelen exhaled, long and controlled, like he was choosing her command over his own hunger.
Zane's pupils widened—interest, not fear.
"And if I don't ask?" he murmured.
Somewhere in the vents, the building exhaled damp air.
Rain on cut grass.
Again.