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“You started the fire.”
The smile remained.
“You endangered people’s lives. You destroyed our samples. You delayed our work.”
“Those are the consequences.”
“None of that belonged to Alexander.”
“Oh, but it did.” She was quiet for a moment. Then, with almost casual precision, she pulled something out of her pocket. My eyes followed the movement before I understood why. When she turned back, a syringe rested in her hand, filled with a perfectly clear liquid.
My pulse began to pound.
“And the consequences don’t end there. All I need is one data point. One person to prove the side effects were never what Alexander believed they would be.”
She took a step toward me, holding the syringe with the same composure she had shown through the entire conversation. “You finished the work, Dr. Rossi. Now you can prove Alexander was wrong.”
I stepped backward. My eyes never left the syringe in her hand.
“If you truly believe Helix is safe,” I said quietly, “why are you trying it on someone else?”
Victoria regarded me before answering. “Because this has never been about convincing me. I have lived with this decision for six years. I know what I believe.”
She held the syringe lightly between her fingers. “Alexander doesn’t.”
She looked at me with the same certainty she had carried through our entire conversation.
“He trusts you. Your judgment. Your integrity. Once Helix enters your system and the outcome is exactly what I have always believed it would be, he will have to understand that he was wrong. Everything he destroyed, everything he took from me, will have been for nothing.”
“You’re willing to gamble my life to prove you were right.”
“No. I’m asking you to help me prove that Alexander was wrong.”
She took a slow step toward me, the syringe ready in her hand. I moved backward without taking my eyes off it until the desk caught against the back of my legs. There was nowhere else to go.
She reached for my wrist with her free hand. I twisted away, but the movement only brought us closer together. The syringe scraped against the sleeve of my coat as I tried to force her hand aside. We stumbled, sending the picture frame crashing to the floor. For an instant, the photograph beneath the broken glass caught my eye. Alexander and Victoria.
Every instinct I possessed narrowed to a single object: keep the needle away from my arm. I grabbed her wrist with both hands and shoved with everything I had. Victoria fought to pull free, her grip tightening as the syringe turned wildly between us. For one impossible second, neither of us knew who controlled it. Then her balance gave way. The needle drove sharply into her forearm.
We both froze.
Victoria lowered her eyes to the small puncture in her arm with an expression close to curiosity. When she looked back at me, the faintest crease appeared between her brows. It was the first time I had seen uncertainty touch her face. It disappeared almost immediately.
“Unexpected,” she said quietly. “We’ll simply collect the data differently.”
She took a single step toward me. Then she stopped.
It was so subtle I almost missed it. Her hand found the edge of the desk as she tried to steady herself. She frowned faintly, blinking once before looking back at me, slightly unfocused. I knew that look. My attention shifted immediately to the signs in front of me. The change in her breath. The hesitation. The way her balance no longer seemed entirely her own.
She was becoming hypoxic.
“Victoria…”
Before I could take a step toward her, the chime of the elevator echoed through the abandoned floor. We both turned. The doors slid open.
Alexander stood perfectly still, Marcus beside him. Alexander’s eyes found me first. Marcus’s found the syringe lying on the floor. Victoria’s knees faltered beneath her. She caught the doorframe and looked toward the elevator.
When she saw Alexander, something softened in her expression for the first time since I had met her. It wasn’t triumph. It wasn’t anger. It was something infinitely sadder.
