For a heartbeat, Michael thought he had misheard her.
The hospital corridor outside intensive care hummed with distant beeping and soft footsteps, harsh light bouncing off white walls, the air sharp with antiseptic. Iris knelt on the polished floor in a thin hospital gown, fingers clutching the armrest of Sylvia's wheelchair as if it were the only solid thing left in her world. Beta Gray stood behind them, jaw clenched, eyes like stone. A nurse hovered a few steps away, clearly wishing she were anywhere else.
Sylvia sat stiffly in the chair, bandage at her temple, lips pale but steady. She did not look at Iris. Her gaze was on Michael, cold and unblinking.
“I'm not giving you my blood," she had said.
The words still rang in his ears.
“You don't mean that," Michael managed. His voice s
