006 - Ashina

I stared at the screen again. Once. Twice.

The data hadn’t changed.

No matter how many times I reran the test, recalibrated the analyzer, manually combed through the gene mapping—hell, even cross-referenced known infection progressions with outdated rogue strain databases—everything came back the same.

Maya’s blood was wrong.

Nothing made sense.

Her genetic markers weren’t just mutated… they were foreign. Aggressively, violently foreign. This wasn’t any strain of werewolf I had ever documented. Her cells were rewriting themselves in real-time, tearing apart what she was, trying to rebuild her into something else.

Something I didn’t understand.

Tears stung my eyes. I blinked them away, but they clung stubbornly to my lashes. I couldn't afford to break now. Not when she was counting on me.

I dug my fingers into my hair again and yanked at the ends, a sharp reminder to breathe. Think. Focus.

My chest ached. I couldn’t breathe past the knot tightening beneath my ribs.

My eyes darted to Maya—still unconscious, still breathing—but barely.

This is too much. Too insane. Too—

What the hell am I supposed to do?

A breath hitched in my throat.

I was so out of my depth here with this unnatural blood type.

My father’s cold, sharp voice crashed through my mind at that thought.

"Blood isn’t just life. It’s lineage. It’s purity. Some blood isn’t meant to exist. Like his. That boy’s blood… it’s unnatural."

Kael.

He hated Kael and always went on and on about how his blood was different and not pure. This was all before I found out Kael was my mate. He’d gone crazy out of his mind then, and I’d left him soon enough to escape his fanatics and obsession.

Good riddance, I used to think.

But now? Those words… unnatural blood… they sounded like a warning I’d ignored.

That triggered another memory.        

Of her.

Dr. Veyra.

A name I buried along with a past I swore I’d never revisit.

I bolted to my room like a possessed woman. My bag was still half packed from when I thought I’d be able to leave this place and everyone behind. Something that felt like two lifetimes ago.

I tore it open, rummaging blindly for my phone. Blood smeared across the leather handle of my phone as I gripped it, ignoring the warning bells of how unhygienic everything I was doing was.

I dropped to the ground and tanked open the bottom drawer of my bedside cabinet, tossing contents aside—journals, files, old papers—until my hand hit something smooth and stiff.

A small, creased business card I’d long forgotten was there. The gloss was worn down, and the ink had slightly faded.

Dr. Veyra — Independent Genetic Research Specialist.

I was meant to burn it because there was no way I was going back into that world.

And yet there I was, needing it.

With my hands shaking, I grabbed my phone and dialed the number printed on the back.

It rang once. Twice.

Then a smooth, clipped voice came through the line. “This is Dr. Veyra of the Genetica Initiative. Who am I speaking to?”

I swallowed before responding. “Ashina Kai.”

There was a slightly long pause before an amused chuckle came in, “Dr Kai. Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in years. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I have a situation,” I said quickly. “And I need your help?”

Her tone shifted slightly. “What have you done?”

“I didn’t do anything!” I snapped, heat rising in my throat. I dragged a bloodied hand through my hair and exhaled shakily. “My best friend. Very human. She was bitten by a werewolf, and she’s changing.”

“That shouldn’t be possible,” she said slowly.

“I know,” I whispered. “But it happened. She’s changing fast. She’s losing control. Spikes in aggression, body temperature, and even her neural responses are erratic.”

“Typical symptoms.”

“No,” I said. “Not like this.”

I launched into the details, words tumbling out of my mouth, breathless. “I ran a full genetic panel. Her markers don’t match any known strain. Whole DNA sequences are different—designed. It’s not a mutation. It’s a rewrite. Something is replacing her, Veyra. Like it’s using her as scaffolding.”

“Huh? Fascinating.”

Of course, she sounded excited. That smug glint in her voice, which I hated the first time I met her, was still there, dancing like a spark behind her words.

“Different markers? Are we talking an entirely new strain or corrupted bloodline?"

"Neither. At least, not exactly. The sequence is foreign but not chaotic. It’s… deliberate. Like a design. And the speed—it’s like it’s trying to overwrite her entirely."

I exhaled, realizing my hands were trembling even more now. "Please, Dr. Veyra. I’ve seen mutations. I’ve studied them. This isn’t one. I don’t know what this is, and so I need help. She’s… she’s all I have."

There was a sharp inhale on the other end. And that single sound made my stomach drop.

“What is it? What’s happening to her?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said. “But you need to bring her to me. My lab is secure, and we have what we need to analyze this properly.”

I hesitated, bile rising at the thought. That lab was where nightmares were stitched together and called research. And Dr. Veyra? She didn’t believe in ethics. She believed in answers.

And I’d sworn never to go back.

“Look Dr. Kai, I know your prejudice against me,” she said, her voice cool. “But if you called me, that means you’re out of time and out of options.”

I clenched my jaw. She was right. Damn her, she was right.

“She’ll be in safe hands and won’t be treated like the others,” she added, softer. “You have my word. But if you delay, you might not have a friend left to save.”

I closed my eyes. My hands were shaking.

“Fine.”

“I’ll send you the coordinates. Off-grid. Follow them exactly. Bring the samples. Bring the girl—if she’s stable.”

“She’s sedated,” I muttered, already sprinting back toward the lab.

“Dr. Kai?” she called, just before I reached the end of the hallway.

“What?” I hissed, not stopping.

“I have a feeling… she’s about to wake up.”

I skidded to a stop.

My breath caught in my throat as I shoved open the lab doors.

Maya was awake.

Or something like awake.

She thrashed against the restraints with her teeth bared, growling so ferociously that the sound shook my bones. Her eyes were glowing, with that unnatural amber look from earlier and her limbs strained against the reinforced iron, chains clinking with each lunge.

I froze and instantly turned to the flickering to the wall clock.

Four hours.

She’d been sedated with enough tranquilizer to knock out the worst for twenty-four.

And it wasn’t even holding her.