Chapter Three — The Pulse Beneath Skin
1057 Words
The lab feels different tonight. Not colder — just… alive.
The hum of the machines thrums faintly under my feet, syncing with my heartbeat. Every step I take sounds louder than it should, echoing off the sterile walls like I’m trespassing in a cathedral built for something I don’t understand.
The motion lights blink on one by one as I walk deeper into the research wing, pale fluorescence washing over the metal counters and glass containers. Everything’s where it should be — and yet, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not supposed to be here.
You’re losing it, Lena.
Maybe I am. I didn’t sleep last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that faint shimmer of crimson light pulsing behind my eyelids — the one from the specimen vault, the one that shouldn’t have been there.
I told myself I’d imagined it. But I couldn’t stay away. Something about it… pulled me back.
The hallway narrows the farther I go, and the hum of the servers grows louder, vibrating in my chest like a low growl.
I stop outside the restricted wing. The red access light stares at me, unwavering. I know my badge won’t open it — not without clearance. Still, my hand lifts to the scanner before I can stop myself.
Beep.
Green light.
The door slides open.
My breath catches.
How—
I don’t finish the thought. My pulse is already sprinting.
Inside, the air feels heavier. Denser. It’s cold enough that my breath comes out in faint white wisps. The servers line the walls, all glowing faint blue, except for one terminal at the far end — where a faint red light flickers, steady and rhythmic.
A pulse.
My feet move on their own. Each step feels drawn — magnetized. I reach out toward the glow, my hand trembling slightly.
Then — a sound behind me.
Footsteps.
I spin, heart in my throat.
“Who’s there?”
No answer. Only the echo of movement — fluid, deliberate, not hurried.
Not human.
“Dr. Vale?” My voice barely holds steady.
The light flickers. Once. Twice.
And then he’s there.
Adrian steps out of the shadow like it parts for him. The first thing I notice isn’t his eyes — though they’re darker tonight, sharper somehow — it’s how he moves. Controlled. Too controlled. Like a storm holding itself together.
“What are you doing here, Lena?” His tone is quiet, but it vibrates through the air, low and rough like gravel under silk.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I whisper. “The lab’s off-hours.”
He looks at me for a long second. Then at the terminal behind me.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I had clearance.”
“No,” he says softly. “You didn’t.”
My chest tightens. “Then how did—”
“Because I allowed it.”
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. The red light pulses behind me, steady as a heartbeat.
He takes a slow step forward. “This section isn’t for observation. It’s not safe.”
I try to sound calm, but my throat is dry. “What’s in here, Adrian?”
“Nothing you need to see.”
The way he says it — gentle but final — sends a chill down my spine.
“I thought you said there were no active specimens in this division,” I say. “But that’s not true, is it?”
He doesn’t answer.
Instead, he closes the distance between us until I can feel the heat radiating off his body. His scent hits me — faint iron and something darker, addictive, like rain on hot stone.
“Lena,” he murmurs, voice low, “I need you to trust me and leave.”
I swallow hard. “You’re hiding something.”
His jaw flexes. “I’m protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From me.”
The words barely register before the light behind me surges — a sudden flare of red that floods the room. I gasp and turn, shielding my eyes. The hum spikes, deeper now, like it’s inside my chest.
When it fades, I feel it.
Something — alive — humming under my skin, matching my heartbeat.
“Lena—” Adrian’s voice sounds distant, strained.
I grip the metal table for balance. “What… is that?”
“Tell me what you touched,” he demands, stepping closer, but I barely hear him.
My vision blurs for a moment. The pulse in my chest syncs with the red flicker still faintly glowing across the glass.
It’s inside me.
I back away, breath shaking. “What’s happening to me?”
He hesitates — just a fraction — and I see something break across his face. A flash of fear. Not for himself. For me.
Then everything happens at once —
The power flickers, plunging the room into shadow.
A siren wails in the distance.
Adrian moves — impossibly fast — catching me just as my knees buckle. His hands are freezing against my skin, but his grip is steady, careful.
“Don’t move,” he says, voice tight.
“What—”
“Look at me.”
His eyes catch the emergency light — and for a second, just one impossible second, they gleam faintly crimson.
The air between us shatters.
I stop breathing.
He blinks, and it’s gone. Human again.
But I saw it. I know what I saw.
“Adrian,” I whisper, “what are you?”
He doesn’t answer. Just closes his eyes for a moment like he’s fighting something. When he opens them again, his voice is calm — but the calm that comes before an earthquake.
“Go home, Lena.”
“I can’t—”
“You need to.”
There’s something in his tone that roots me to the spot — command and desperation tangled together. His hand lingers at the back of my neck, almost tender.
Then he steps away, vanishing back into shadow, leaving me trembling under the flicker of the dying lights.
The hum in my chest fades slowly… but not completely. It stays — a faint echo, like a second heartbeat whispering under my skin.
It’s not over, it seems to say. It’s only just begun.
- Writer
