Page 6 of Her Immortal Protector

I stare at the lifeless body, my mind reeling. That could have been me. If my body had rejected the Change...

Bile rises in my throat as I remember my own transformation. The searing pain, the feeling of my body being torn apart and remade. But I survived. This person didn't.

My gaze darts around the circle, taking in the other vrakken. Some look away, uncomfortable. Others watch with detached curiosity. Nyx's expression remains impassive.

I clench my fists, feeling my new strength, the power thrumming through my veins. But at what cost? My humanity slips away with each passing moment, replaced by something... other.

Part of me mourns for the life I've lost, the simple joys of being human. The taste of my favorite foods, the comfort of a familiar touch, even knowing that life has a meaning because I could easily die. All of it, gone.

Yet another part of me revels in my new abilities. The heightened senses, the raw power, the promise of immortality. It's intoxicating, seductive.

I'm caught between two worlds, no longer human but not fully vrakken. The internal conflict tears at me, threatening to drive me mad. How can I reconcile these warring parts of myself?

My gaze returns to the body on the ground. A stark reminder of the price of this 'gift.' Is this what I've become? A monster who watches others suffer and die without lifting a finger to help?

I swallow hard, trying to push down the guilt and horror. This is my reality now. I have to adapt, to embrace my new nature, or I'll be consumed by it.

But as I look at the lifeless form before me, I can't help but wonder: at what point does adapting mean losing myself entirely?

Needing to take a break, I stand, looking at Nyx. My throat was already burning, probably sparked by the presence of a human. "I need to feed."

She nods. "You'll all need a lot of blood as your body settles. Go ahead. But don't go too far."

I take off toward the woods, expanding and contracting my wings and thinking it's time to test them.

4

ARIA

Islam the door shut behind me, chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. My heart pounds so hard I swear it's trying to escape my ribcage. Sweat trickles down my back, and my legs tremble from the adrenaline rush.

"Shit," I mutter, sliding down against the door. "That was too close."

My hands shake as I pull out my phone, checking to make sure I haven't been followed. The screen's cracked—must've happened during the chase—but it still works. No suspicious activity outside. For now.

I scan the dingy motel room. It's not much, but it'll have to do. At least until I figure out my next move.

My bag hits the floor with a thud as I dump its contents onto the bed. Notebooks, USB drives, crumpled receipts—my life's work for the past six months. The story that almost got me killed.

"Okay, Aria," I tell myself. "Think. What do you know?"

I grab a marker and start scribbling on the grimy wall. Names, dates, locations. Connections start forming in my mind, and I draw lines between them. Red for definite links, blue for maybes.

"Gentech Industries," I mutter, circling the name. "What are you hiding?"

My notes sprawl across the wall, a chaotic web of information. But patterns emerge. Shipments to unmarked facilities. Unexplained deaths. Money trails leading to shell companies. All leading back to environmental violations that I uncovered files of before.

I step back, surveying my work. It's messy, but it's all here. Months of digging, late nights, and close calls condensed into this makeshift conspiracy board.

My phone buzzes, making me jump. Unknown number. I hesitate, then slide my thumb across the screen.

I stare at my phone, heart racing. The anonymous message glows on the screen, promising answers I've been chasing for months. It's just a list of coordinates and under it a single line that says:

A secret facility conducting unethical experiments.

It's like the answer has just fallen straight into my lap. It's almost too good to be true.

"Shit," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. "This could be it."

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