CHAPTER 51: THE PULSE BENEATH THE SKIN

He walked through the gym doors like it was just another day.

Sunlight cut sharp lines across the rubberized floor, dust drifting lazily through the hot summer air as Lachlan strode in—his shirt slightly damp, his hair still wet from a shower, grinning like he hadn’t just been branded with something irreversible.

Sera was behind the front desk, counting weights and pretending to care.

Until he stepped through the threshold.

And her entire body went still.

Something inside her snapped taut—tight as piano wire—then sang out with violent warning.

The creature inside her lunged, not physically but mentally, slamming against the barrier between bone and sinew. Her skin crawled. Her heart beat twice, then stuttered. Every instinct screamed. Kill. Kill now. Kill him before he kills us.

The feeling was worse than before. More wrong. More threatening. She had felt it with the students at her school, her roommate who took the vaccine, the members of the gym who thought they were smarter than everyone else.

He didn’t look different.

But she knew better.

The creature growled low, demanding blood. Take him down. Rip his throat out. He betrayed you. He is not one of us anymore.

Sera forced a breath through her nose, tasting the air.

The scent of him was still there—sweat, soap, the earthy tang that had always grounded her—but beneath it, woven like a poisoned thread, was something else.

Something new.

Something foreign.

"Lachlan," she said quietly, her voice cold and sharp like the snap of a trap springing shut.

He turned, that easy grin lighting his face. "Hey, sunshine."

She stepped out from behind the counter.

Every one of her movements were slow, measured. It was like she was worried that going too fast would unleash something that she could never take back. She controlled the creature inside of her only by the thinnest strand of human willpower.

"What did you do?" she hissed.

Her tongue flicked across her teeth, checking—still blunt. Still passable. Still human.

But barely.

His brows drew down. "What?"

She took another step closer, every inch of her thrumming with tension. Her eyes burned behind the contacts, her skin flush with heat.

"You took it." Her voice was lower now, more growl than speech. "You took the vaccine. Or whatever the hell they’re calling it."

He didn’t deny it.

Didn’t flinch either.

He just sighed, gaze dropping as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn’t have a choice."

Her lip curled.

He reached for her arm, but she pulled back. Not because she feared him—but because she feared what she would do to him.

"Don’t touch me," she warned.

He exhaled again, softer this time, and gestured toward his office. "Can we talk somewhere that doesn’t have half a dozen cameras?"

She hesitated. The creature didn’t like the idea. Enclosed space. No exits. But if he wanted to hurt her, he would’ve already tried. Whatever had changed inside him, it wasn’t hostile. Not yet.

She nodded once and followed.

Inside, he closed the door gently, as if slamming it might trigger something in her. He leaned against the edge of the desk while she stood near the opposite wall, arms folded tight across her chest.

"I didn’t want to take it," he said, voice quiet. "I held out for months. Argued. Fought. Hell, I even filed for an exemption."

Her silence dragged.

"But they made it mandatory," he continued. "Said if I didn’t take it, I’d be sent back to Country A. Dishonorable discharge. No more intel access. No more team. That’s not just an end to the job, Sera. That’s the end of everything I’ve worked for."

Her jaw flexed.

The creature was pacing now. Agitated. Still demanding punishment. Still certain that he no longer belonged.

"And that matters more to you than—"

"No." He cut her off with a shake of his head. "I didn’t want to leave here. Leave you."

Something inside her shifted at that. Not forgiveness. Not yet.

But the storm paused.

She took a step forward. "Look at me."

He did.

"No," she said, firmer now. "Tilt your head. All the way to the right."

Lachlan didn’t ask why. He just tilted, exposing the side of his neck and the pulse that beat visibly beneath his skin.

She stepped forward again, slow and deliberate, until their chests were almost touching.

"I feel like I just stepped into the ocean," he murmured, "and there’s a shark staring at me." His breath hitched when he felt her breath against his skin.

"You’re not far off," she whispered, eyes locked on that fragile stretch of throat. Whether he knew it or not, he was submitting to her, and that was calming the creature down faster than even the best chocolate.

His hands moved, ever so slowly, before resting lightly on her hips. He didn’t pull her closer. Didn’t move. Just stayed there, offering quiet stability.

"What are you doing?" he asked, the words barely audible.

"Trying to convince myself not to rip your throat out," she said, calm as glass.

She rose onto her toes.

Brushed her nose against his neck.

The creature inhaled deeply, searching for what was left of him beneath the layers of change. The new scent repulsed her, but not enough to override memory. Not enough to destroy the bond they’d built.

A low purr rumbled from her chest.

Both of them heard it.

Lachlan’s grip on her hips tightened slightly, but he didn’t flinch. He let her scent him. Let her judge.

And when her lips pressed gently to his neck, he tilted his head even more, offering the vein in full.

Sera rubbed her cheek along his pulse, claiming it—claiming him—as part of her horde.

As hers... as theirs.

"I don’t know what’s going to happen next," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. And it was true. She didn’t know if he would turn into a zombie or mutate into someone with powers, but that no longer mattered.

He said nothing.

But he didn’t step away.

She closed her eyes. Rested her forehead against his shoulder.

"But whatever happens next, tell me. I will be beside you. I will help you through it."

He was still hers.

Even if her creature had lost a bit of faith in him.

Even if the part of her that had once been human didn’t know if they’d survive the next phase.

She would stay.

Because he’d believed her when no one else had.

Because he’d prepared when everyone else laughed.

Because even now—with her wanting nothing more than to tear him apart—he stood still and let her choose.

And that, more than anything, bought him a second chance.