The following evening, Cattleya found herself back in the private foundation clinic, drawn there by a simple text message from Rusty: Come. I want to show you something.
She told herself it was professional curiosity. Another piece of the puzzle. Another opportunity to study the impossible man who had upended her carefully ordered world. The lies she told herself were becoming more elaborate — and less convincing.
Rusty met her in the underground medical wing this time, a restricted area few humans ever saw. The room was sterile yet elegant: black marble floors, advanced monitoring equipment seamlessly integrated into gothic architectural details, and a large examination table in the center.
He was already there, shirtless, sitting on the edge of the table with unnatural stillness.
