Page 256 of Immune

“That’s actually terrifying for the rest of us,” he says, almost so seriously that I huff something akin to a laugh. Not quite, but it’s close enough.

Then the sound dies and I quietly say, “He meant it, you know.”

Fletcher’s expression turns hard. “Yeah.”

“That wasn’t just a show to scare me.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“He thinks someone should be allowed to claim me just because I make people uncomfortable.”

Fletcher stops walking, so I do, too. For a second, he looks too big for the hallway. Too angry for his skin. Fletcher Rhodes with violence behind his eyes and both handsopened because he’s learned that closed fists don’t always mean protection.

“He’s wrong,” he says.

It’s simple. There’s no decoration, no fancy speech, and that makes my throat ache.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

I glare at him, but he doesn’t apologize.

It takes me a moment to finally, quietly, say, “I know.”

His gaze drops to my covered mouth, then returns to my eyes.

“You want me near, I’m near,” he declares. “You want space, I’ll give it to you. You want to burn this whole policy shit to the ground, then I’ll hand you the matches and point out which weaknesses to hit.”

There’s that warmth again, dangerous and rude and very much Fletcher-shaped.

“What if I want all three?” I ask carefully.

His eyes soften by a fraction. “Then we’ll start at the nearest point and keep the matches on hand.”

Something inside me loosens. Not quite enough to make me feel safe, but it’s enough that I can keep walking.

When we turn the final corner toward medical, Davis is already there, waiting at the far end of the hall. Not close, and not doing anything that could be considered a threat if someone from HR carrying a fancy clipboard asked. He stands under a flickering light with one shoulder leaning against the wall, his two shadows gone for now.

His eyes find me immediately.

Then Fletcher.

Then me again.

He smiles, this creepy little smile. A private smile. Like we’re sharing a secret.

My stomach churns, growing cold enough that it aches, and Fletcher inhales beside me. Controlled, but only barely.

Davis lifts one hand, but not in a wave. It’s a promise. Then he taps two fingers against the side of his throat, right where a claiming bite would sit.

My body turns to stone.

Every sound in the hallway drains away.

Davis’s smile widens just enough for me to understand. He doesn’t only think I can be claimed. He thinks I should be.

And worse, he thinks the compound might actually let him prove it.