’Helena’ let out a low whistle. "How did you know it was there?"

"Master has the sense not to put us in these easily detectable places."

’Lilianna’ said, wiping the residual blood from her shoulder. The wound was already closing, the flesh knitting itself shut with unnatural speed.

"I almost got forced to be flushed out into existence prematurely. If I hadn’t been placed inside the secondary gland instead of somewhere obvious, they would have found me and purged me before I ever woke up."

’Helena’ made a popping sound, smacking her lips together with theatrical appreciation. "Master really is the best."

’Lilianna’ saw that the blood had stopped dripping and the body was already okay to move.

She said, "Let’s go."

What happened next defied every known human anatomy that Neville knew.

From the flesh of the upper backs of both ’Helena’ and ’Lilianna’. Something simultaneously stabbed outward.

It was a skeletal structure, thin and segmented and chitinous. It punched through skin and fabric alike.

The exoskeletal frames extended from the shoulder blades in paired sets, stretching outward and upward like the armature of wings stripped of everything but bone.

Their clothes split along the back. Flesh parted around the protrusions with wet, organic sounds.

Blood welled briefly around each emergence point before coagulating almost instantly; the wounds were self-sealing as if the bodies had anticipated this and prepared accordingly.

The skeletal frameworks extended to their full span, perhaps a meter and a half from tip to tip, and then paused, quivering.

Thin as wire, as complex as circuitry. The structure of each wing-frame was segmented, jointed, and covered in a lattice of veins that pulsed with visible movement.

Then the fluid came.

From within the bone structures themselves, a luminescent green substance began to seep outward, following the vein-patterns like water filling irrigation channels.

It spread with purpose, coating every strut and crossbar, filling the spaces between them. It expanded into membranes that caught the red emergency light and turned it into something that glowed faintly green.

In less than ten seconds, the frameworks were no longer frameworks.

They became wings.

Full, functional, translucent forewings that hummed with a frequency just below the threshold of human hearing.

The green membranes shimmered, and beneath them, the vein-patterns pulsed in rhythmic waves, as if the wings had their own heartbeat.

’Helena’ flexed hers once, testing.

A gust of displaced air scattered dust and debris across the basement floor, ruffling the hair of the dead.

’Lilianna’ didn’t bother with a test flight. She already moved toward the blast doors at the far end of the corridor.

They left and flew upward and fast, through maintenance shafts and ventilation systems designed for equipment.

Behind them, the basement was already beginning to burn with an accelerant that ’Helena’ had placed earlier. It was timed to the minute, consuming every single piece of evidence that they might’ve left accidentally.

By the time they breached the surface and hit open air, the fire had already reached the ground floor.

By the time they left the institute’s airspace, the explosions had already started to explode one by one.

By the time the first Imperial Military alert pinged across every light brain within a hundred-kilometer radius, they were already gone.

Two dark shapes against the sky, wings catching the sunlight, leaving nothing but things that would keep the military busy for weeks.

○●○●

Night settled over Grayson’s penthouse.

Grayson sat on the edge of his bed, still in the dark gray dress shirt he had worn in the office today.

The top two buttons were undone. His jacket hung over the bed next to him. His shoes were already off, cluttered on the ground in front of him.

He lay his back on the bed and looked at his wrist.

The pearl bracelet caught the ambient light from the outside. He held it up, and each small pearl gleamed with a soft, iridescent warmth that seemed to come from somewhere inside the gem itself rather than from any external source.

It was really beautiful, delicate, and elegant.

Neville had given it to him.

Just the thought of it made him smile.

Grayson unconsciously traced his thumb over the largest pearl and felt his heart uncontrollably beat.

He caught himself doing it, but he didn’t stop.

Grayson was aware that this was probably what people meant by the word "love". Although he was already aware of his feelings and he already gotten Neville on the premise of ’fake’ dating.

But he had no idea how to take it to another level.

In the meantime, he had planned to cherish their feeling with each other and take it slow from there.

But now, Neville handed him a gift meant as a couple’s item. It made him helpless at how Neville managed to think about these little things faster than he could.

Should he really just do what those rich alphas in Crysis do? Handing over a gift and dating? Was it really that simple?

But he would never know if he would try.

But it was worth a try since he wasn’t about to sail on two boats at the same time like those people.

With this resolve, Grayson began to think.

What could he give him in return?

Grayson stared blankly at the pearl bracelet that glowed softly against his skin and saw the time.

It was already this late

Just as he was about to stand up and take a bath, he remembered the pearl bracelet on his wrist.

Neville had said that it was waterproof, so he didn’t need to take it off.

But Grayson still wanted to. Not because he doubted the quality, but because the bracelet was precious, and precious things deserved to be protected from unnecessary wear and tear.

Just as he was about to reach for the clasp—

His light brain buzzed.

The caller ID read: PETE ROWAN.

Grayson’s hand stopped halfway to the clasp.

Pete Rowan calling at this hour meant one of two things: either the man had finally discovered a plant species that genuinely excited him enough to share at an unreasonable time, or something had gone very wrong.

Pete’s voice, when Grayson answered, eliminated the first possibility immediately.

[Have you heard from the military?]

No greeting. No preamble.

Pete’s tone was filled with urgency, which was rare for his usual calm temperament.

Grayson’s posture changed, subtly straightening his spine, a slight squaring of the shoulders like he was back in the military.

"What’s going on?"