Chapter 6 - Inside the Medical Suite
The private medical suite on the east wing of the mansion was bathed in the harsh, sterile glare of overhead surgical lights.
Jonah and Blythe lay side by side in the massive adjustable bed, their pale faces looking translucent against the crisp white hospital sheets. Their small hands were still loosely linked, fingers intertwined, breathing in shallow, rhythmic wheezes through nasal oxygen tubes.
Iris Thorne stood beside the IV drip station, her battered leather journal open on the medical tray, her fingers flying across the digital infusion pump as she reprogrammed the chemical compounds.
Lawson stood near the glass partition, watching her every move. His arms were crossed over his chest, his dark eyes unblinking.
“Are you certain this antidote will reverse Yates’s inhibitor?” Lawson asked, his voice tight with the terrifying vulnerability of a father gambling his children’s last breaths on a stranger’s word.
“It’s not an antidote, Mr. Mercer. It’s a genetic counter-agent,” Iris explained without looking up from the pump, her focus absolute. “Genevieve designed it in the final weeks before the fire. She knew Yates was tampering with the trials, so she formulated a peptide sequence that strips the artificial inhibitor from their white blood cells without triggering organ failure.”
“Why didn't she use it sooner?”
“Because it requires a pure, uncompromised donor base to synthesize quickly... and the only matching donor genetic profile outside of Genevieve herself was you, Lawson.”
Lawson froze. “Me?”
Iris stopped typing. She turned her head, looking him dead in the eye.
“Genevieve knew Vane would never let her treat the twins openly. She knew that the moment she tried to administer the counter-agent, they would hunt her down—which they did,” Iris said softly. “She left this journal with me and instructed that if anything ever happened to her, I was to find you... and draw the necessary cellular extract directly from the father to save them.”
The clinical detachment of the medical suite seemed to vanish.
Lawson looked from Iris to his sleeping children, whose chest movements were becoming fainter by the minute. Ten days, Yates had said. They didn't even have ten hours now that the shock of the confrontation had accelerated their metabolic collapse.
“Take whatever you need from me,” Lawson stated, stepping forward without a second hesitation. “Blood, marrow, plasma. Whatever it takes.”
May you like
Iris nodded slowly, a deep, respectful understanding passing between them. She picked up a sterile medical syringe and a collection vial from the tray.
“Roll up your sleeve, Mr. Mercer,” she said. “It’s time to save your family.”
