The silence of the WHO's high-security biocontainment ward was light-years from the roar of the airfield. Here, air was filtered and cool and had the faintest hint of antiseptic. Selene lay on a hospital bed, flanked by more monitors than any patient in all history, her gentle light the sole warmth in the sterile room. The world watched her behind bulletproof glass and a live-feed that had the highest ratings on the planet.
Kael, his head bandaged and stitched, waited by her side, a silent protector. Dr. Eliza Vance had provided shelter, but it was a golden cage. They were protected, but also prisoners of the new world.
The door whispered open. Dr. Aris Thorne strode in, accompanied by a white-faced Eliza Vance. The two women seemed exhausted, their faces stamped with the wear of the pa
