Page 19 of The Brotherhood

Her pulse shot up. “No, I’m… I’m only four months.”

The tech didn’t react, merely repeating, “Fetal development is at twenty-four weeks based on cellular and structural analysis. Accelerated growth likely influenced by the foreign enzyme in the mother.”

The green eyes pinning her, flickered with intrigue, Beth saw.

“Proceed to maternal scan,” he instructed, voice cold and precise.

The techs adjusted the machine’s frame to encompass her torso and head as her fears about the baby ate through her control. It scanned her from chest to crown, the subtle tingle running through her spine then whispering over her mind.

“Detecting elevated alpha frequencies in maternal brain,” the tech announced, his gaze fixed on the data streaming across the monitor. “Heightened neural coherence acrossareas associated with sensory processing, impulse control, and emotional resonance.”

Beth fought to steady her breaths. Bishop’s bite had altered her, intensified her own natural gifts. What had it done to their child? What if… it affected his entire genetic development? Oh God. All the changes started after the bite.

“Alpha wave activity is significantly elevated,” the tech continued. “The subject’s brain patterns are generating a coherent field effect… one that appears to enhance emotional and instinctual response in those nearby.”

“And there it is,” he mumbled, still staring right at her.

“What did you mean by predator species, was that for the baby too?” she asked loudly to the technician.

The tech paused, eyes on Sinrik as if waiting for his permission. “Continue the scan,” he said, not taking his suspicious gaze from her.

He was testing her.

“Increased neural synchronization,” the tech said, seeming to hesitate. “Likely to produce a persuasive capacity. Her influence is primal, reaching instinctual—”

“Tell me right now what you meant by predator species,” she ordered louder, her pulse thundering in her throat.

He paused then explained, “The genetic markers—”

“Stop!” his boss ordered.

“….resemble predatory adaptations—”

“Stand down, soldier,” he barked louder, still watching her.

He wanted a demonstration, she realized. But sheneededanswers. “Keep going,” she ordered the tech, her gaze following her captor as he walked over to a desk and opened a drawer.

“…heightened metabolic efficiency… increased… muscle density…”

He stalked back, holding a gun at the tech’s head.

“What are you doing!” she gasped.

“…and an aggressive immune response,” the tech strained.

“Give him an order,” he said, cocking the gun.

“I don’t need to know—”

“Give him an order!” he yelled, eyes on the tech now standing there, trapped between two authorities.

“Tell me your name,” she gasped.

“Malik.”

“And your last name, Malik? Tell me your last name.”

“I have no last name.”

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