Bloodlines of Survival

Chapter:18 The Asshole PT:2

Gwen gritted her teeth, swallowing back the pain as the cold fluid seeped into her veins. The man watched her intently, his eyes like a hawk studying its prey. She could feel the liquid racing through her bloodstream, igniting a deep, throbbing ache that spread through her entire body. The virus within her roared to life, clawing for control, its hunger sharper than ever.

"Interesting," the man murmured, scribbling something on a clipboard. "Your vitals are spiking, but no loss of control... yet."

Gwen shot him a glare, struggling to keep herself anchored, her mind focused on her kids, on the promise she'd made to protect them. "What... are you doing to me?"

"Just a little test to see how you react under pressure," he replied calmly, as if they were discussing the weather. "You're quite an anomaly. We've seen the virus consume people from the inside out, yet you—" he paused, looking at her darkened eyes, "—you seem to be balancing on the edge."

Gwen could feel the virus pushing, thrashing against her will. Her senses sharpened—she could hear the faint hum of electrical wires behind the walls, smell the stale scent of the room, and her captor's heartbeat, steady and unbothered. She closed her eyes, concentrating on breathing through the pain, willing herself to keep control.

"What's your plan here?" she forced out, her voice strained. "You think you're going to cure this? You're playing with something you don't understand."

"We understand more than you think," he said, cold and detached. "The virus is mutating, adapting. It's no longer just a threat to individuals—it's an evolutionary step, one that we plan to harness. With the right control, we could create something... new."

Gwen felt a chill crawl down her spine. "You're trying to control it? To weaponize it?"

"'Weaponize' is such a simplistic term," he replied, turning back to his clipboard. "Imagine a world where humanity is resilient enough to withstand anything—injury, disease. That's the potential here. And you, Gwen, you may hold the key to understanding how."

Her stomach twisted. This wasn't survival; it was madness. "You're talking about turning people into monsters."

The man ignored her, checking his watch. "That injection you just received? It's designed to accelerate the virus, push it to the edge to see if you lose control. If you can retain your humanity under this... then we'll know it's possible."

Gwen's hands began to tremble as the virus clawed at her insides, the hunger surging to a new level. She felt her control slipping, felt the edges of her humanity fraying like old cloth. The man watched her struggle, his cold curiosity unrelenting, his gaze never wavering.

But then, something snapped inside her. A fierce surge of determination pushed the darkness back, forcing it down. She took a shuddering breath, steadying herself, gripping the edges of the metal table until her knuckles turned white. She could almost hear Jamie's voice in her mind, his calming strength, reminding her of who she was, what she was fighting for.

"Impressive," the man said, noting her recovery. "You might just survive this."

She didn't respond, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she focused on a plan, calculating her chances, weighing her options. She knew she wouldn't last forever under this strain. If she wanted to protect Kohl and Samantha, she'd need to find a way out, and fast.

As if reading her thoughts, the man leaned forward. "Don't get any ideas. You're under constant surveillance. Every room, every hallway. We know your limits, and we'll know if you try to escape."

Gwen met his gaze, her darkened eyes unwavering. "You're underestimating me."

He gave a thin smile. "Perhaps. But I'd caution against doing anything reckless. Your children's safety depends on it."

The mention of her kids struck a nerve, lighting a fire in her chest. She clenched her fists, forcing herself to appear calm. "You don't know what you're dealing with. The virus, the mutations—it's not something you can control."

"Maybe not yet," he admitted, standing up, "but we'll find a way."

As he exited the room, the guards moved back in, securing her arms to the chair once more. The door shut with a metallic clang, leaving her alone in the suffocating silence.

Gwen took a deep, steadying breath, letting her mind race through every detail she'd observed, every weakness in their routine. If she had to rip through concrete and steel to get out of here, she would. For Kohl and Samantha. For Jamie.

She wasn't a monster yet—and as long as she could resist, she'd fight like hell to stay human.