The fine perfume of hope from the mobile clinic was a thin string, and Kael Fenris felt it fraying with every passing hour. The Cura app succeeded, an insidious killer coursing through the electronic bloodstream of Europe, bringing the sick and the terrified to their secret sites of care. They were saving lives, one faceless, QR-tagged patient at a time. But it was triage. It was stopping a hemorrhage with a bandage while leaving the wound itself open.
The real fight—the war to stop the virus in its infancy—was still at a stalemate. Their strategy still depended on the world believing the truth. It depended on Dr. Aris Thorne.
For two days, the pack had watched, waited, and listened. They'd tapped into every source they could find, from secure WHO channels to open news feeds, holding out
