“Where’s Avrell?” I demand.
Theron lets out a whistle. “About that—”
Breccan’s furious roar rattles the windows from inside the Decontamination Bay. Hadrian hangs his head as Breccan rages.
“Is he…Did he go to The Eternals?” I rasp out.
Theron snorts. “No, but—”
“Give it time,” Willow says, her smile wide as she grabs Theron’s hand with hers. “Zoe will send him there if he doesn’t learn to shut his mouth around her.”
Their playfulness grates on my nerves.
“Enough,” I grit out. “Why are they not here?”
Theron bristles, his sub-bones popping. “Don’t yell at my mate.”
“I haven’t begun to yell yet,” I bite out, stalking over to him to poke his chest. “But if I don’t find out why my mate is being denied proper medical attention during her pregnancy, I will start to yell.”
“I am perfectly capable,” Calix grunts out from nearby.
“Come on,” Willow says to Theron. “You can yell at your buddy later. Let’s go see Momma. I’ve been waiting a lifetime for this.”
They share a sweet look before he drags her away toward Molly and Draven’s room.
The door flings open and Breccan storms in, Hadrian on his heels. Both of them wear the same expression. Irritation. Anger. Fear.
“Avrell and Zoe have made the decision against Hadrian’s command to stay,” Breccan snarls. “At first opportunity, Theron, you’re to ready the Mayvina. I’ll go round them up myself if I have to.”
“Why?” I demand.
Lyric shows up, standing beside her mate, Hadrian, and glowing with authority. “Because. It was necessary.” She turns her stare over to Breccan. “They didn’t want to risk infection. Everyone who traveled to the facility have been in strict medical quarantine and have been cleared of the disease. Avrell and Zoe have stayed with the infected. We couldn’t leave them to die alone.”
Breccan trembles with fury, but Aria stands beside her sister, linking her arm with hers.
“They were protecting us,” Aria says in a calm voice. “If they had asked permission, they would’ve been denied and you know it.”
Breccan bares his fangs at her, but Aria doesn’t flinch.
“Are you done now?” Aria asks. “It’d be great to have a meeting, greeting our new guests, but if you’re still having your tantrum, I’ll have Hadrian do it.”
Hadrian starts forward, but Breccan stops him with a gentle grip to his shoulder.
“No,” Breccan grunts. “I will call the meeting in the Nutrition Bay. But I want a full briefing on the situation in the command center as soon as this is over.”
Fourteen unmated females.
Fourteen.
That’s all that’s left. There were so many once at the prison, and now there are so few.
I can see the guilt swimming in Breccan’s gaze. As though he somehow feels responsible that these humans came to Mortuus, became infected with The Rades, and were killed off by the rekking disease. The ones who arrived at the facility—all fourteen—are survivors. Either they seem to be immune to the disease or survived it and are no longer contagious. During Breccan’s greeting earlier, they all seemed eager and happy to be here. Calix has been itching to study them, but we don’t have time for that. Not with the Kevins arriving tomorrow.
“Julie’s condition is improving,” Avrell says over the comms.
After Breccan spoke to the group and Galen fed them, several of us slipped away to the command center to make contact with Avrell.
“She gave us a scare,” Zoe says, her brows furrowed with worry.
“How many are left?” Breccan rasps out.
Zoe looks down at her lap and Avrell’s shoulders hunch.
“There were twelve when we left four solars ago,” Hadrian says from his chair beside me. “Still twelve sick?”
Zoe stands abruptly and storms off. Avrell scowls as he runs his hand over his messy hair that’s usually kept neat. I note he’s no longer wearing his protective gear. His skin is pallid, and he seems fatigued.
“Thirteen.”
Breccan slams his fist down on the table, making it echo loudly. “Zoe?”
Avrell scratches at his arm. “Doesn’t matter. We’re dealing with it.”
“The rekk you are!” Breccan roars. “You’re sick. It’s you. It’s why you’re not wearing your gear. What did you do?”
“I needed to test the disease on myself to see—”
Breccan’s roars drown out whatever else Avrell says. Calix simply stares at the screen while dread washes over me. Hadrian buries his face in his hands.
“The only way to come up with an inoculation that will service both humans and morts,” Avrell finishes. “I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. This is necessary for the survival of everyone. Because we might survive this round, but what about our future? Your mortlings? Their mortlings. It is absolutely necessary, Breccan, my brother, and I’m close. Give me time.”
“The Kevins will be here soon. For all we know, they’ll show up at the prison looking for their people,” Breccan croaks out, defeated. “You’ll be outnumbered. We don’t have enough time to send Theron and others back to you. You’re all alone and there’s nothing I can rekking do about it.”