The runic seal clicked shut, and Adrian was gone, leaving Lila alone in the sterile silence of the Deep Isolation Wing. The quiet was immediately replaced by the intense, overwhelming noise of her own body going into crisis.
The warmth she had felt minutes ago was now a searing furnace. Lila collapsed onto the soft bed, clutching the sheets. Every muscle ached, but the pain was centralized—a deep, rhythmic throb in her lower abdomen and spine that demanded relief.
This is not fatigue, Lila realized, panting. This is biological torture.
The sweet, honeyed scent radiating from her body was so thick it felt like a heavy blanket pressing on her lungs. It was an intoxicating, alarming perfume that seemed to amplify the single, consuming thought now dominating her mind: Need. Mate.
Lila squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the rising panic and the foreign, powerful craving that flooded her senses. She was a non-athletic bookworm, and suddenly, her body was screaming for a physical, primal solution she had no experience with.
I am not one of those susceptible Omegas! she tried to tell herself, even as the biological urgency made her teeth clench. I am a reader! I prioritize logic! This is just chemicals!
The pain was relentless. Omegas experienced a heat every three months for two days, making them highly susceptible and desperate for an Alpha to stabilize their bodies. Lila's cycle had been triggered early, and the chaotic energy from the Shadow Council trap had intensified the effect.
She knew she needed something strong—a cooling agent, a sedative, anything—to fight the biological imperative trying to take over her mind.
Suddenly, a cold, focused voice cut through the soundproofing, vibrating through the runic seal near the bed.
"Lila."
It was Adrian. He was communicating through the highly secure intercom system, his voice devoid of the husky strain from before, regaining its clinical control.
"Do not attempt to fight the process with adrenaline," Adrian instructed. "You will only increase the pain. The physical symptoms—the aching, the elevated sensitivity, the primal urges—are your body preparing for stabilization. You are safe. No one can reach you."
Lila pressed her hand to her aching forehead. "It hurts, Adrian," she whispered, her voice tight with shame and pain. "I need something to stop this. I can't think."
"I know," Adrian replied, his voice firm, no longer using the "Assistant" title. "I am working on a stable compound. The stress induced an early onset with heightened potency. I will not introduce untested magical sedatives into your system. We will manage this using chemical stabilizers."
He paused, and his next words were a direct acknowledgment of her personhood, not her data. "I apologize for the intense discomfort. I have placed a small package of specialized cooling compresses and pain suppressants on the desk. They are non-magical and will provide temporary relief."
Lila crawled to the desk, her body protesting every movement. She found a sterile kit containing compresses that glowed faintly with cold energy.
Lila applied the compresses to her core, and the immediate, sharp cold provided a brief, welcome shock against the internal fire. She swallowed the suppressants, fighting the nausea.
"The greatest threat now is the pheromone," Adrian's voice continued through the wall, sounding distant and slightly roughened. "I am sealing the ventilation shaft leading to this wing. You are currently producing a scent that is potent enough to induce a rut in any unbonded Alpha who breaches the perimeter."
Rut. Lila knew that term too. Alphas endured a three-day rut every six months, requiring a mate to alleviate the agonizing biological urge. Adrian, as a True Blood Alpha, would be ten times more potent and terrifying, and her scent was now demanding that response from him.
"You need to leave the facility," Lila whispered, realizing the danger she posed to him even through the walls. "Your control is wavering. You need to focus on the Shadow Council."
There was a long silence from Adrian. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight and heavy, layered with a determination that was purely personal.
"I will not leave," Adrian stated. "The Shadow Council can wait. My top priority is your safety and my stability. The chemical suppressants will manage the external effect of the pheromone, but I will remain here. I will manage the containment of this crisis."
"But—" Lila started, trying to argue, but the intense heat rolled over her again, bringing with it that frantic, undeniable craving.
"Do not speak unless it is a vital request," Adrian cut her off, his voice hardening slightly. "Rest. Control the pain. I am here. And Lila, the next few days will be agonizing, but your consent is not negotiable. I will not break the lock."
Lila sank back onto the bed. She was trapped in isolation, burning up with a terrifying, primal need, guarded by the one person whose senses were being pushed to the breaking point by her very existence. She had survived the external political trap only to be caught in a biological one, with Adrian as her terrifying, tormented sentinel.