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He yelled, more in shock than actual pain.
The filaments dragged Reese’s hand into the open wound in Johnathan’s chest, and the rot devouring the tissue retreated.
Then a tide of torment blanketed the scar on Reese’s shoulder.
He bit back a scream.
“Fuck.” Phillips grabbed a handgun off the wall and aimed it at Johnathan’s head.
“No.” It took everything Reese had to push the word from his lips.
“Dr. Dante?”
“My choice. You said…” Reese’s heart spasmed and his lips numbed.
“It’s killing you.”
“No.” Reese glared at her. If he died and Johnathan lived, he didn’t care. He couldn’t care. And it might even be better that way. There would be no repercussions for Reese’s actions, and he would have saved a life.
Johnathan’s heart emerged from the pool of disintegrating tissue in his chest and his lungs inflated. In one deep heave of air, his ribs expanded, and his heart beat.
The threads of ichor holding Reese prisoner slipped from his body and filled the canyon where Johnathan’s sternum had been, devouring the injury.
Any remaining bruises faded, and the diseased vascular branches shrank to nothing, leaving behind deep golden skin, flawless, even with old scars and valleys of thick muscle.
“I’ll get the van started.” Phillips went to the front. The engine rumbled.
The ghost of ichor filaments tickled Reese’s palm and wrist. He rubbed the places where the cuts had been.
Johnathan watched Reese.
“Are you okay?”
He continued to stare.
“I mean, it worked. It did work. Right?”
A tick jumped in Johnathan’s jaw.
“Say something, so I know you’re alright or not alright or… anything.”
That’s when Johnathan’s expression crumbled. “Dr. Dante, what have you done?”
