Page 81 of Salvation for the Alien Mercenary
"About the Ophiuchian DNA?" She laughed, the sound brittle as glass. "Oh yeah, I heard everything. How it's changing you mentally as well as physically. How you specifically asked him not to tell me."
Shit.
"Mira, I was trying to protect you?—"
"From what?" Her eyes flashed. "From the truth? Or from making my own decisions?"
He reached for her, but she stepped back out of the way. "I was going to tell you. I just needed time to understand it myself."
"Trust is a two-way street, Davis." Her voice dropped, the anger replaced by something worse. Resignation. "You made your choice when you decided to keep the truth from me."
His stomach twisted. "What are you saying?"
She looked away, watching the crowd flow around them. "After this mission, I'm leaving the Reapers."
The statement knocked the air from his lungs. "Mira?—"
Mira held his gaze for a second before turning away. "Finish the supply run. I need some air."
She walked into the crowd, Spot following behind, the little bot swiveling back once to look at him before scuttling after her.
He stood frozen in the middle of the market street while people flowed around him.
Words failed him as he watched the gap between them widen. She was slipping through his fingers, and he had no idea how to stop it.
Ironic. In this moment when he needed his humanity most, it had never felt further away.
16
Mira stepped into K’ell's lab, the sterile air flat after the myriad smells of the city. She looked around, keeping her expression level. The Latharian scientist had claimed an office at the back of a manufacturing unit for his work, filling it with equipment that hummed. At the same time, screens displayed complex genetic mappings that might hold the key to Davis's condition.
If she trusted K’ell. Which she didn't. Not as far as she could throw him.
The Latharian looked up from his workstation, his eyes brightening at the sight of her. "Ah, the human female arrives."
"I have a name," she said, keeping her distance. "It's Mira."
"Yes, yes." He waved dismissively, motioning for her to come closer. "The sample, please."
She folded her arms. "Explain again why you need my DNA?"
He sighed with the exaggerated patience of someone dealing with a particularly slow child. "Your genetic material provides a pure human baseline against which to measure the transformative properties in Subject L-47's system."
"His name is Davis," she snapped.
Amusement flickered across K’ell's face. "Names are irrelevant. What matters is that I require uncontaminated human DNA to develop a stabilization treatment." His gaze swept over her with clinical dismissal. "You are conveniently available."
She snorted. "And I'm supposed to believe that's the only reason?"
"Believe what you wish." He shrugged, turning back to his console. "But without a stabilization compound, Subject L-47's transformation will continue accelerating. His human consciousness will eventually be overwhelmed by Latharian genetic imperatives."
Her jaw tightened. Davis was slipping away and becoming something else entirely. Despite everything — his lies and her decision to leave the Reapers when this was over — she couldn't stand by and watch it happen.
"Fine." She rolled up her sleeve as she approached the workstation. "Take what you need, but be quick about it."
K’ell's fingers were cold against her skin, and his movements efficient as he extracted blood from her arm. She focused on the ceiling, counting the rust stains to distract herself as the sample vial filled.
"Excellent." He held it up to the light. "A fine specimen."
