I stumble back.
My heel hits a chair leg.
I don’t feel it.
“Placement on Novaria approved under Surveillance Habitat Program. Long-term observation of bond-trigger behavioral collapse.”
Kimberly’s eyes snap to mine.
“You were placed here?” she says. “On purpose?”
My throat closes.
“I didn’t know,” I say hoarsely. “I swear—I didn’t?—”
Her datapad scrolls again.
“Collateral subject: K. Fierson. Acceptable loss threshold within experimental parameters. No extraction priority.”
She makes a sound like she’s been punched.
“Acceptable…loss?” she whispers.
The lead operative stares at the screens, pale. “That protocol wasn’t supposed to trigger.”
I turn on him.
My claws fully deploy.
Bone spurs rip through skin.
“You knew,” I say.
“I—” He swallows. “We were told retrieval was for your own safety.”
“Forwhosesafety?” I roar.
The room shakes.
Plates rattle.
Kimberly grabs my arm.
Hard.
“Tur,” she says, voice cracking. “Look at me. Look at me.”
I can’t.
My vision is red.
Every heartbeat sounds like a gunshot.
“They built me,” I choke. “They wired my DNA like a fucking bomb. They put me here to see when I’d break.”
Her hands slide up my arms.
Firm.
