4

AIDA

An hour ago, I would have said nearly anything was worth the value of this work.

But now, looking at the tender expression on Noel's face, his startling blue eyes shining with curiosity, I no longer feel that truth.

The door behind me slides open, and Dr. Umansky charges in, flanked by two large, uniformed, armed men. Like all of the guards here, they look like military, but there's an edge to them that makes me stand and move to the other side of the room as they surround Noel.

I face Umanksy. "What's going on?"

"Doctor, I think we need to talk—again." He reaches out to grab my arm, and I instinctively jerk away.

"Excuse me—"

"Do. Not. Touch. Her."

Umanksy and I shift around simultaneously, the venom in Noel's voice drawing us both up short.

"Sedate him, quickly." Umansky spits, rounding the desk.

Noel bucks against his restraints with so much force that I'm shocked they hold. There are no traces of the smile that made him look so unexpectedly approachable as he glares down the men.

Umansky fills a syringe with enough sedative to down a horse and shoves it into Noel's neck, but Noel doesn't go down right away. He holds Umansky's gaze, his eyes seeming to glow brighter, giving him an inhuman quality.

"You better cut it out of me. Because if you touch her again, I'll show you what my kind can do," Noel growls. "You think you know what I am? You have her here?" His eyes flash to me, sharp and indignant with the accusation. "You're making her do this?" Finally, his voice trails off, and his head slumps forward, his chin to his chest.

The room falls quiet, and I stand rooted to my spot as Umansky turns to one of the men who came in with him.

"I thought our contact said they turn when they're angry?"

The guard shrugs. "That's what he said. It was good intel. I thought you said she could synthesize the hormone. That she was the best? Some little college kid did it, but we're pussyfooting around? Let's just cut it out of him like he said and start testing. I'll take it. I'm ready."

"Hey, hey, slow down, Maxim." Umansky pumps his hands in the air like a foot pressing a brake. "We don't know what we're dealing with yet. It took us months to get two of them, and we lost one and a whole lab before we could even test the female, and she was pregnant with hybrids . If we could have gotten our hands on them—"

"Uh, sir?" The other guard, who's been quiet since they came in, nods in my direction.

Umansky must have thought I left because he spins, his eyes going wide before he clears his throat. "Doctor, I didn't see you there. I'm sorry you had to witness this man's aggression, but as we told you, this is a very dangerous criminal. I hope he hasn't said anything to upset you." He peers closely at me, gauging my reaction and probably wondering how much of what he said I heard.

The warning bells that were a soft jingle before are clanging loud and clear.

My mind races, but I only hesitate for a fraction of a second before pasting on a smile. "I'm fine. Was there a reason you burst in here?"

The corner of his eye flinches. Then he clears his throat. "Yes, well, we heard you chatting with him again, and I came to remind you that people like this man are likely to say anything to try and get over on us. I told you before that despite his volunteering, we suspect he will seek an opportunity to escape. Just remember what you're here for. In fact," he looks to the man named Maxim, "I think we are ready to move on to the next phase of the study. The samples you collected have been beneficial for us, and we're going to begin extraction of the hormone."

Maxim's eyes light with excitement, so much so that he's nearly bouncing. I look closer and notice that he's generally a little jittery. From the almost manic look in his eyes to the bulging muscle and the aggressive anxiety, my scientist's theory would say steroids.

"Sure. I'm happy to move forward as soon as I see those results first."

"That won't be necessary." Umansky's expression is placid, but the dismissal throws me off.

How do they expect me to conduct this research if I don't see any results of my work?

"Actually, it is necessary. I can't determine a baseline to analyze the composition of this hormone if I don't see how it differs from other receptor blockers already in use. That's standard practice, and my preference is that I am the one to check my work. It would be bad science—"

"Can you excuse us for a moment, gentlemen?" Umansky looks to the guards, and they leave.

As Maxim passes, he glares at me, his body bristling with volatile energy, making me step to the side to put more space between us.

I watch the two men leave, and when I turn back, my heart lurches as I come face to face with Umansky, who has somehow managed to move across the room without me hearing to stand right in front of me.

The side of him I saw before is back in full force, and he looks downright nasty as he hovers just above eye level with me.

"We don't have the luxury of being able to beat around the bush, and I don't know any way to make this plain, so I'll just spell it out. We didn't hire you to ask questions. We hired you to draw some blood and synthesize a hormone. Now, before your unfortunate disgrace within the science community, you had a reputation of being a brilliant endocrinologist; whether such lofty accolades were over-embellished for obvious reasons is neither here nor there."

The longer he's been talking, the closer my lids have gotten together, so I'm surprised I can still see him. "What obvious reasons do you speak of, exactly, Dr. Umansky?"

His lips press tight for a moment as he cocks his head to the side. "Come now, Doctor. How many people like you even make it through med school, let alone into a specialization like endocrinology?"

"People like me, like Black people, or brilliant scientists who work hard to excel in their fields? Quite a few, actually."

"But how many people like you deserve it?" He chuffs. "You seem to be one of the ones who actually know what they're doing, so do it. Don't ask questions, don't talk to your subject. Extract the hormone from his head and recreate it. That's all. That's why we brought you on. You don't need to worry about anything else. That's not your role. We're a team, remember? Play your part."

He brushes past me, leaving me stumped and unable to come up with something to say.

I don't think I've ever been so insulted in my life. Even when all that crap went down last year, no one dared attack my credibility as a scientist—my choice in relationships, yes—but not my work.

"I am stellar at what I do." The words are tight, and I don't even speak them consciously, but after a year of feeling attacked in every aspect of my life, the old me, the one who is used to running shit and not taking orders, rises up. "There are maybe one or two other people in the world who can do what I do with my level of accuracy. And if I'm not mistaken, they are all people like me ."

Umansky turns back, his expression stunned even though we both know people like him couldn't touch what I managed to do before I was even out of undergrad.

I finally get my mind right and suck my teeth, spinning to leave the lab.

"Man, fuck this job," I mumble.

I may have been a little hard up for a position after so many rejections, but not enough to deal with this shit. Even as I stride away, my middle tugs with the thought of the man unconscious behind me.

What will happen to him if I leave? I doubt that a scientist who isn't like me would give a shit about treating him with any kind of humanity.

"Doctor," Umansky's voice is hard as it carries to me from where he's still standing. "If you're thinking of backing out of your contract, I'd like to remind you about the confidentiality and completion clauses you agreed to. We'd hate to subject you and your family to another lengthy legal battle."

That stops my retreat, and I halt just as I'm pushing open the door.

Bastard.

Right away, my mind fills with an image—Zora with her arms crossed as she sits in the galley of a courtroom, the look on her face screaming silently that I've ruined her life. The countless scenes of her crying and telling me that her friends at school are making fun of her mother, calling me ghetto and ratchet. Calling me desperate. Her wishing she didn't have to live with me, that I wasn't her only parent. Her desire to conjure her father from the grave so he could protect her the way I failed to.

When I got this job, she started saying more than two words to me, and I overheard her telling one of her friends on the phone that her mom was working for the Genesis labs.

This job was as much a sign of hope for her returning to her normal life as it was for me.

I may not need this shit from Umansky, but she does, and he's managed to tap into the one thing that could make me withstand it. I won't subject her to more ridicule if Umansky decides to make good on this threat.

My posture is rigid with this knowledge, and he smiles.

"I think you get the picture. Your subject's done for today, so we'll see you tomorrow."

"Noel."

"What?" He frowns, and I just stop from rolling my eyes.

"His name is Noel, right? Noel McCanty ? I have serious problems with treating my volunteers like they aren't human. You do consider him a human, right, Dr. Umansky?"

His eyes widen for a fraction of a second before narrowing dangerously. "Why wouldn't I consider him a human? What has he told you?"

" He hasn't told me anything. I just want to be clear of people like me 's standing in your eyes."

He blinks, almost looking relieved. "Right, yes. Of course. Please be ready to run the standard tests to establish a baseline for the synthesis on Noel ." He almost sounds friendly again, but now I know it's a front.

"Mm hm."

He rolls his eyes at my response and turns away.

My hand itches with the urge to give him the finger while his back is turned, but I resist and push out of the lab.

I never knew my dad, and my mother died when I was in grad school, but she always told me to follow my gut. She used to joke that we have good insides in our family. We rarely get sick, and if something feels wrong on the inside, it's because something is going on outside that isn't right.

I used to joke back that my inside-outside monitor was a little faulty because I'm prone to giving people the benefit of the doubt. Well, as of a year ago, the benefit of the doubt isn't even a thing for me anymore.

I need to get out of this now .

Umansky wasn't lying when he said they've locked me into an agreement that involves all kinds of years' long no-competition clauses and repayment clauses if I break it before the work is done.

Basically, I wouldn't be able to work as a middle school science teacher if I leave now. If I can find out what's really happening, maybe I can get some leverage to extract myself from the contract.

I'm nearly to the exit when that tug pulls so sharply that I suck in a breath, halting in my tracks.

I pivot, my feet taking me back to the lab where Noel is still slumped over in his chair.

They just left him here.

I cross and check his pulse to find it steady and even. His chest rises and falls with deep, troubled breaths. He seems to be okay, considering how much sedative Umansky gave him. I still can't believe he could withstand that dosage, but he is massive.

Going behind his chair, I release the bolts that hold it steady to the floor. My eyes widen when I realize two bolts are pulled entirely from the concrete. The other two are loose. The kind of strength it would take to do that isn't the kind of strength a man should have, but then adrenaline is known to give all sorts of superhuman powers.

I push him to the small enclosed observation room where we leave him overnight. It takes all my strength to guide the chair a few yards across the room. By the time I situate him in the middle of the room, close to the cot he sleeps on just in case he's dizzy when he wakes up, I've broken out in a sweat.

I step around to his front, my hands automatically lifting his head. It dropped to a sharp angle, and he can't be comfortable like this.

His skin is warm, and the snowy white beard covering his cheeks has a soft, almost fur-like texture.

They say he's a criminal, but as I look over his smooth chestnut skin, the deep crease in his forehead hinting more at a man who cares about people than one who kills them, I don't want to believe that.

That inside thing that I've never trusted, but I'm trying to trust more, tells me it's not true.

This man is too beautiful to be a monster. Even his scowl is too gentle to be anything but protective.

My hands linger on his face, scraping lightly over his chin and the sharp bone structure. Emboldened, I trail my fingers down to his bare arms, which, in contrast, are smooth but rippled with cords of muscle.

My mind flashes back to the dream I had last night and his naked body, so big, so powerful—so big .

Something beeps above us, and I remember the listening devices stationed all over the room. I was told it was to ensure we weren't sharing information irresponsibly, which now just reads as if they don't want us sharing information at all .

Pulling my hand away, I turn to leave, but before I can take a step, a steel band wraps around my wrist, trapping me.

It's Noel's hand.

My gaze shoots to his. He's looking at me, his blue eyes bright and nearly fluorescent again. They're clear and fierce, and they sear straight through me.

"You're mine ." The words are bitten through his clenched teeth as he holds my gaze for another long moment and then slumps back down into unconsciousness.

I back away, clearing the doorway and scanning my ID badge over the sensor to make it close.

I stand on the other side, my chest heaving.

I feel different.

Since that dream, I've felt off, like I was missing something, and now, since Noel looked at me and growled those words, I feel—better, lighter, claimed in the most primal way.

Staring at him through the window of the lab door, I no longer feel comfortable with him like this.

I no longer feel comfortable with any of this.