She asks, “Who is subject R?”
“Patient confidentiality,” Murtaugh says without even turning around.
“Whoever the hell he, she, or it is, must be just as fucked up as me for you to be studying them too,” I say, sticking my tongue out.
“It’s finally time he brought you here,” Murtaugh says to Sisk, ignoring me completely as he swabs my cheek.
“Me?” she asks. “Why?”
“She hasn’t been briefed?” he says without looking up.
“She doesn’t like being left out,” Sisk says before I can answer, shooting me a look.
“Sorry,” I mutter under my breath.
He blinks at me like I’ve just grown a second head. “Apologizing?” he says. “You’re evolving after all.”
I force a smile. “For the millionth time,” I drag a hand down my face, “can we fucking drop this theory?”
“The tar isn’t stabilizing. It’s adapting. Faster than predicted.” He reaches for a tray of instruments. “And you’re deteriorating at a cellular level. So no,” he adds mildly. “We can’t drop it.”
Sisk steps forward. “What do you mean, deteriorating?”
I lean back against the metal table, letting my shoulders slump, projecting bored, as if my insides aren’t occasionally trying to rearrange themselves, literally.
“It means,” Murtaugh says, adjusting a strange brass device, “that if we don’t understand the mutation, your boyfriend is going to combust from the inside out.”
Sisk goes very still.
“Or worse,” he continues.
“Worse?” she asks.
“Lose himself to it.”
Sisk looks like she’s about to faint. I’m not exactly sure if she’s reacting to the word boyfriend or the idea of me turning into something else entirely. Either way—Murtaugh isn’t wrong.
The back door swings open, and the sound of heels clicking across the floor tells me everything I need to know. Viper steps into the lab like she’s entering a VIP section instead of a biohazard zone.
I watch Sisk’s expression shift.
Viper’s in her usual attire too. Black leather everything. Her blonde hair is yanked into a tight ponytail, exposing every inch of the snake tattoo running down her spine. It’s a sick piece of work, almost down to her ass, with the snake’s mouth open at the base like it’s about to strike.
Sisk sees it. I see her see it.
“Hey, Jax,” Viper says, casual as fuck.
“Viper.”
Sisk’s eyes snap to me.
“This is Sisk,” I say, gesturing lightly. “My girlfriend.”
The word hangs there, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek not to enjoy that too much.
Viper turns slowly, taking Sisk in from boots to shoulders. “Oh,” she says. “You’re the one.”
Sisk folds her arms slowly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
