Page 113 of Immune

I hate that word now. I hate it with passion, loyal commitment, and quite possibly a blood oath. All because he meant it. Because my stop wasn’t a negotiation. I wasn’t a challenge or a thing he needed convincing of. I pulled away, and he let me without a fight, or pressure, or wounded male pride that limped around the room like something pathetic that needed applause.

Just space.

Which means I can’t even blame him. It means the blame has to go somewhere else and, unfortunately, I live in my own damned body. And my body, the back-stabbing, treacherous, mutinying little bitch, has decided now is the time to start being the biggest problem it could create.

We leave the roof while the rain is still pouring hard enough to turn the whole city into one giant damp bruise. The pilot is barely conscious, sagging between Fletcher and Xeon while they move him through the upper levels of what used to be an office building. Ewan, as usual, takes the back while Kaito stays somewhere behind my right shoulder. Not close, not far, just… there. Like a splinter I can’t dig out because a part of me keeps worrying I’ll actually miss the pressure of it when it’s gone.

Oh, well, that’s a stupid thought.

Dangerous thoughts. Jesus Christ.

I step over a fallen office chair and immediately hate my knee, the chair, the floor, the weather, and the plain concept of joints in general. Pain shoots up my thigh, quick and white-hot.

Obviously, I keep walking, and my body responds by sending heat slithering under my wet clothes.

It’s not a fever.

It’s worse.

The first wave rolls over my skin in a slow and humiliating crawl, leaving me all too aware of the material sticking to my back, my hair trapped under Maine’s hat, thebandage pulling tight around my arm, and every single Alpha scent pushing into the damp air.

Fletcher’s cedar and leather scent, solid and controlled.

Xeon’s ice and steel, clean enough to cut through rot.

Ewan’s smoke and clove, warm and clear enough that my body notices before my brain can demand that it mind its business.

Kaito’s burning wood and worn flannel scent that now feels familiar enough that I can place it even through the rain, decay, grime, and everything else.

I don’t want to know them that way. I don’t want my body cataloging them like they’ve become useful supplies. Bandages. Knife. Water. Alpha. Exit.

No.

Absolutely not.

“Stairs are blocked below,” Fletcher says from ahead, voice low. “We need another way across.”

I move past him before I can think better of it, because apparently thinking hasn’t exactly been very helpful today. I point through the office maze and say, “This floor links to the next building. Old skybridge, if it’s still even attached.”

Ewan makes a funny little noise behind me. “That last part feels pretty important.”

“Then keep up and experience the suspense,” I mutter.

“Lush,” he drawls. “Structural uncertainty. My favorite genre. Love this for us, team.”

I lead them through the rows of sad desks, overturned filing cabinets, and broken chairs. The carpet squelches under my boots with every step I take. The ceiling tiles sag above us, swollen with rainwater, and the whole place smells like wet paper, mildew, and memorized panic.

Halfway across the room, my steps slow. Not because of my knee, although that’s posing a really big problem rightnow. It’s because of the supply closet. It stands to my left, door half open and dark inside. There’s one entrance, no windows, and shelves are still bolted to the wall. A stack of old uniforms in plastic wrap are scattered on the floor. Dry, maybe? Soft, possibly. Enough fabric to line the corner, block the gap under the door, make a space small enough to hold warmth and scent and quiet.

My brain pauses. Then it considers. And approves.

I stare at the closet with wide eyes filled with pure horror.

Oh, god, no.

No, no, no. No thank you.

Those are absolutely not thoughts I’m having. That’s not an urge I’m currently fighting. That’s definitely not my body looking at a damp corporate storage cupboard and deciding it has really good potential as a little panic cave.