The Assassin Alpha's Heir
Callisto tapped the screen once, bringing up the archive files—thirty-two names, thirty-two flatlining vitals, thirty-two women who had been destroyed by the very machines sitting behind him.
“Thirty-two women died on that table because synthetic extraction couldn’t bridge the biological divide,” Callisto whispered, locking his eyes onto mine without an ounce of hesitation. “You brought her here because she’s unique. But her body is still human flesh and blood. You keep shoving synthetic cocktails down her veins just to protect your pride, and who’s to say your high and mighty Ivy won’t die, too?”