Twenty-Three

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Red bleeds across my vision as I awake.

Warning signals, vital updates, and code bombard me instantly. Drawing a cleansing breath between my clenched teeth, I sit up. Vergil stands with his back to me, his massive frame leaning over Gatlin's bed. We're inside one of Zhyv's compounds and safe—for now.

She goes for a similar style. She, like me, favors the modern style with granite or marble floors, and minimal decor with a more industrial feel. The floors are polished white marble with tiny speckles of black throughout.

Gatlin and I rest on comfortable beds hovering off the ground using calming blue lights. There is little on the white walls, only a few abstract paintings and huge displays to track vital signs. Mine are healthy and strong, but his flounder, and rebound repeatedly.

Vergil reaches out, steadying him with his power. His hands, glowing a dull red, drift along his chest in a steady rhythm. I wish I knew what he was. From the moment I met them, their powers consumed my thoughts.

Yet, none of them would speak about them. Especially Zhyv, she kept things under lock and key, protecting them and herself with violence, if necessary. I've seen it before and it didn't end well for those foolish enough to challenge her.

But, circumstances have changed.

"What's wrong with him?"

Vergil twists around on a dime, fixing me with clinically brutal eyes. The only time I've ever seen them truly affectionate where when he was staring at Zhyv. Tears well at the edges of my eyes, Gatlin sometimes looks at me the same way, and I can't wait to see the look again.

"It's not good. It appears the damage is far more extensive than previously estimated."

"How extensive?" I ask, heart stuttering.

His lips thin, rolling inward as he takes a harsh breath. "Blue..."

"Vergil... how bad? I need to know."

"If we don't figure out how to fix it, he'll die."

Dropping my gaze to Gatlin's profile, I study his handsome face. His skin is pallid and covered with sweat. Panicked pants tremble through his chest.

Wincing, I ask, "Is he in pain?"

However, I'm not sure I want an answer. What happened to him is my fault. I'd brought us there, and I'd put us in danger.

Vergil's head bobs once.

"How much?"

He shrugs. "There's no way to know for sure. As I said before, the repair I did wouldn't fix everything. I restitched his spine and stopped his blood loss, but his organs were damaged in the accident."

"And now?"

"Now, I can do nothing else without harming him."

"Vergil..." My throat closes. "He can't die."

"You said you could fix him." Vergil reminds me. "I told you I'd do the limited amount I could, but you have a solution. I'd suggest you start with whatever your solution was."

Snapping my gaze to his, I consider his words carefully. I can save him. I can make him like me. But at what cost?

Would he accept what he is and what I'd done to him? There would be no going back, no way to reconsider. Once the augmentation was complete, he'd be a completely different being.

But he'd live.

Those three words come on the back of an insidious whisper in the recesses of my mind. It was selfish to keep the advancements I made to myself, right? I should help him.

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