The tunnel changed.
It didn't announce it—
no sudden collapse, no echo, no shift in lighting.
It felt different.
Heavy.
Sharp.
Electric in the air like static before lightning.
Horace felt it first.
He froze mid-step, muscles locking beneath me.
Rowan's tablet flickered violently.
Cassian stiffened, tightening his grip on Aiden—who was barely conscious now, leaning heavily into him.
Chandler went dead silent
(which was already terrifying).
A faint sound drifted through the tunnel—
Not footsteps.
Not breathing.
Not metal.
Something… skittering.
Like fingers on stone.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Searching.
Rowan swallowed hard.
"Horace…
this isn't a scent trap."
Horace's voice was low, tense.
"Then what is it?"
Rowan didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
Because a moment later—
the smell hit us.
Not human.
Not Alpha.
Not Omega.
Not any secondary gender.
Something sharp.
Chemical.
Almost like antiseptic mixed with cold metal.
Chandler gagged.
"What the—ugh—what IS that—?!"
Cassian's eyes widened in horror.
"No.
No, it can't be—"
Aiden whimpered weakly, claws twitching.
Horace growled,
"Rowan.
Tell me."
Rowan turned the tablet so we could see.
The screen showed
MULTIPLE MOVING SIGNATURES
approaching from behind.
Not soldiers.
Not people.
Their identifiers read:
CLASS: NON-REGISTERED
CATEGORY: UNCLASSIFIED
BEHAVIOR: AGGRESSIVE
Horace's grip on me shifted instantly.
"Elleanore."
"Yes?" I whispered, heart pounding.
"You stay in my arms.
No matter what."
I swallowed.
"Okay."
Chandler wobbled his glow stick anxiously.
"Uh—Rowan—buddy—explain what the hell 'non-registered' means?"
Rowan's voice dropped to a whisper.
"It means they're not students.
Not staff.
Not authorized.
Not categorized."
Cassian choked.
"Those things were banned—"
Horace turned sharply.
"Cassian.
What things."
Cassian swallowed hard and whispered—
"Instinct suppressors."
Rowan flinched.
"No—Cassian—those were prototypes. They were DESTROYED—"
Chandler blinked.
"Prototypes of WHAT?!"
Cassian whispered, shaking,
"Biotech units created to control feral Alphas.
Like… police dogs for Omega emergencies.
They weren't human.
They weren't Alphas.
They weren't supposed to think."
Rowan hissed,
"Those machines malfunctioned—they were shut down—buried in the old sublevels—!"
"And this is the old sublevel," Cassian breathed.
Horace's voice sharpened.
"Meaning Lucian's lockdown woke them up."
A sickening scrape echoed behind us.
Then another.
Closer.
Chandler nearly dropped the glow stick.
"Nope—NOPE—I hate this—I want a refund—I did NOT sign up for horror tunnels—"
Rowan shook his head violently.
"No weapons.
They react to scent.
They hunt by—"
He stopped.
Horror washed over his face.
"—they hunt by Omega activation."
My stomach plummeted.
"So… they're here because of me."
Horace's arms tightened around me instantly.
"No.
They're here because the Academy never decommissioned them."
Rowan whispered,
"Elleanore…
your scent woke them."
A new sound drifted through the tunnel—
A low, rhythmic clicking.
Not claws.
Not mechanical.
A mix of both.
Cassian whispered,
"Oh saints… Aiden… Aiden—can you hear me—?"
Aiden only mumbled weakly,
"…hurts…"
Chandler looked back and immediately cursed.
"OKAY—yup—
THERE IS DEFINITELY SOMETHING BACK THERE—"
Horace didn't look.
He grabbed Rowan's arm.
"Which way?"
Rowan pointed down the tunnel.
"T-there's another chamber ahead—if we can get to it before they catch up—"
"RUN!" Chandler screamed.
And they came into view.
The Things That Shouldn't Exist
Crawling along the walls.
The ceiling.
The floor.
Glinting metal limbs,
but with soft, fleshy pads like mutated paws.
Long, skeletal torsos.
Headless.
Scent receptors where faces should be—
round, glowing sensors flickering in the dark like pale blue eyes.
Insect-like motion.
Predatory slowness.
Chandler screamed,
"NOPE—NOPE—I'M OUT—GET ME OUT—"
Rowan grabbed his hoodie and dragged him.
"RUN, YOU LUNATIC—!!"
Cassian half-lifted Aiden, dragging him along.
Aiden's voice shook.
"Cass… Cass—run—"
"I AM," Cassian sobbed.
Horace ran full speed, holding me tight against his chest so my scent was shielded.
But the machines—
they moved faster.
Cassian tripped.
Aiden fell hard.
Chandler darted back to help, glow stick swinging like a club.
Two machines lunged—
Rowan slammed a pipe into the floor, sparks flying—
the sound enough to deter them for a moment.
Cassian pulled Aiden up again, voice cracked and terrified.
"DON'T TOUCH HIM—DON'T TOUCH HIM—!!"
But the machines weren't after Aiden.
Or Cassian.
They were following me.
Tracking my scent.
Horace noticed instantly.
"Elleanore—
your scent—
you need to hold it in—!"
"I—I can't!"
Rowan shouted,
"Don't suppress—don't FORCE it—just breathe shallowly—look at Horace—FOCUS—FOCUS—!"
I stared at Horace's face.
His breath.
His voice.
His eyes—
Everything else blurred.
My scent weakened for a moment.
The machines faltered.
Chandler yanked Cassian and Aiden behind him and ran.
Rowan sprinted.
Horace ran harder.
A huge chamber opened in front of us.
"We're almost—"
Rowan never finished.
Because another machine dropped from the ceiling directly in front of us.
Horace skidded to a halt, spinning to keep me behind him.
Rowan shouted,
"HOLD STILL—DON'T MOVE—DON'T LET IT—"
But it moved first.
Fast.
Blurred.
Targeting me.
Horace snarled—
a sound so feral it didn't even sound human—
as he shoved me to the side and stepped in its path.
The machine struck.
Metal slammed into Horace's chest.
He hit the wall with crushing force.
"HORACE!" I screamed.
He gritted his teeth, blood trickling down his mouth.
"Elleanore—run—!!"
But I didn't.
I couldn't.
The machine turned back toward me.
And my body reacted—
instinctive
terrified
furious.
A scent burst out of me—
sharp and blinding.
The closest machine jerked backward
as if struck by a physical force.
Rowan gasped,
"HER SCENT—IT REPULSES THEM—!!"
Chandler's jaw dropped.
"SO DO THAT AGAIN—!!"
But my head spun.
I couldn't breathe.
The strain hurt.
Horace coughed hard, pushing himself upright.
"Elleanore—don't overdo it—!"
But the machines sensed the weakness.
They surged forward.
Rowan pulled Chandler behind him.
Cassian shielded Aiden.
Horace threw himself between me and the machines again.
And—
behind the machines—
from the far end of the tunnel—
Footsteps echoed.
Slow.
Calm.
Unhurried.
And familiar.
Horace went still.
Chandler swore.
Cassian gasped.
Rowan whispered in horror,
"…No.
Not now.
Not HIM—"
Lucian stepped into view.
Perfectly composed.
Not a hair out of place.
Watching the chaos with mild interest.
Behind him—
five royal soldiers.
He looked at the machines.
Then at me.
Then at Horace.
And he smiled.
"Well.
It seems my little brother found something interesting down here."
Horace's eyes flared with fury.
"Lucian—
leave her alone."
Lucian ignored him entirely.
"Elleanore," he murmured,
as the machines reoriented themselves toward my scent again,
"run if you like.
They'll follow."
The machines clicked—
and lunged as one.
Horace stepped in front of me, teeth gritted.
Rowan and Chandler raised makeshift weapons.
Cassian shielded Aiden's body with his own.
Lucian simply watched.
And I—
my scent surging again
desperate and terrified
but not collapsing—
did the only thing my instinct screamed at me to do:
I stepped forward.
Right toward the machines.
Horace shouted.
Rowan screamed.
Lucian's smile sharpened.
But the machines—
they froze.
Every limb.
Every sensor.
Every part of them.
Still.
Silent.
Like something ancient in my scent pulled rank over everything else.
Lucian's eyes widened.
"…Oh."
Horace stared at me in disbelief.
Rowan whispered,
"She's… controlling them."
But I wasn't.
Not really.
My scent was.
The machines bent low to the ground—
not in aggression.
In submission.
Lucian whispered,
"A Primordial Omega…
can command instinct tech."
Horace's world shattered in his eyes.
Lucian stepped forward.
"Elleanore…
come to me."
Horace snarled,
"She's not going anywhere near you—!"
Lucian ignored him completely.
"Elleanore," he said gently, softly—
"I can teach you what you are."
The machines remained frozen.
Horace reached for me.
Lucian extended a hand.
And I—
my pulse racing
instinct screaming
fear and power tangled in my lungs—
chose.
The Choice That Changes Everything
I didn't choose him.
I didn't choose Horace.
I chose me.
Instead of stepping toward Lucian's outstretched hand
or collapsing backward into Horace's arms—
I stepped sideways,
away from both of them,
into the open space between the machines.
Horace's breath ripped out of him.
Lucian's expression twitched in irritation.
The machines—
didn't move.
They stayed crouched, limbs folded, sensors dimmed,
as if waiting for my next breath.
Chandler whispered,
"Uh—guys?
Are we just… gonna ignore the fact she has robot monsters bowing to her?"
Rowan hissed,
"Chandler, shut up—!"
Cassian cried softly behind us, clutching Aiden's limp body,
but even he couldn't look away.
Horace took a step toward me.
"Elleanore—come back."
Lucian stepped forward as well.
"Elleanore—come here."
Something in my chest snapped.
"No," I whispered.
Both their faces changed.
Horace's hurt.
Lucian's annoyed.
But I wasn't choosing between them.
I was choosing control.
I raised my chin.
"I'm done being pushed.
By you—"
I looked at Lucian.
"By you—"
I looked at Horace.
"And even by my own instincts."
A machine clicked its sensor softly, as if responding to my voice.
Lucian lowered his hand.
Rowan whispered to Chandler,
"She's overriding their targeting instinct—this shouldn't be possible—"
Lucian murmured, amused and dangerous:
"The Primordial bloodline always was unpredictable."
Horace growled low in his throat.
"Elleanore—please.
This isn't safe."
I turned.
"Horace…
you asked me to stay behind you.
To hide."
His face stiffened.
"I did it to protect you."
"And I love you for that," I whispered, blinking back tears,
"but I can't keep running from who I am."
Horace's jaw clenched.
A muscle in his cheek twitched.
"Elleanore… don't say you love me right now."
I froze.
Chandler coughed loudly,
"Okay, I vote we DO NOT have a confession right now—there's like—death-bugs nearby—"
Rowan slapped Chandler's arm.
"Shush!"
But Horace didn't look away from me.
"Not when you're stepping into danger," he continued.
My throat tightened.
"I'm stepping into myself."
Lucian cut in softly.
"And you need someone who understands what you are."
Horace's head snapped toward him.
"You understand nothing."
Lucian smiled.
"On the contrary, I understand everything."
He raised two fingers.
A signal.
The five soldiers behind him moved forward—
slow, cautious, weapons drawn.
Horace stiffened.
"Lucian.
Don't."
Lucian didn't look at the soldiers.
"Elleanore.
The machines respond to you now, yes.
But do you think they will protect you from trained armed men…
when you can barely stand?"
He was right.
My legs trembled.
My breath stuttered.
My scent wavered violently under strain.
The machines sensed it.
They shifted uneasily—
but didn't attack.
Not yet.
But the soldiers kept advancing.
Rowan raised a trembling hand.
"H-Horace…
we can't fight soldiers AND the machines—"
Horace growled.
"They won't touch her."
Lucian smirked.
"You believe that."
Then he flicked his fingers again.
A second signal.
The machines' sensors brightened sharply—
catching something new.
Chandler gasped.
"Oh NO—did he just—did he COMMAND them?!"
Rowan shook his head rapidly.
"No—he can't command instinct tech—he's trying to overwhelm her control with scent proximity—"
Lucian took one slow step forward.
The machines jerked toward me.
Horace lunged instantly—placing himself between me and them, arms spread.
"ELLEANORE—GET BACK!"
But I didn't.
I couldn't.
If I backed down, they'd attack all of us.
If I stepped forward, they'd reduce me to a target.
So I did the only impossible thing left—
I focused.
I inhaled—
slow, shallow, steady—
and let my scent flow out again.
Not in panic.
Not in collapse.
In control.
A warm, bright pulse rippled outward.
Aiden gasped in his unconscious state.
Cassian covered his mouth, stunned.
Chandler clung to Rowan, eyes wide.
Horace turned toward me like I had become the only source of oxygen in the room.
The machines—
stopped.
Every limb froze mid-motion.
Lucian's eyes widened.
"…How."
Horace exhaled sharply.
"Elleanore—
you're doing it."
I took one more breath—
and stepped between Horace and the machines.
"Elleanore—NO—" Horace reached for me.
Lucian's eyes gleamed.
But I lifted a hand and—
the machines lowered themselves.
All of them.
Every limb.
Every sensor.
Bowing.
Lucian stared.
Horace stared.
Rowan whispered something too soft to hear.
Cassian choked on a sob.
Chandler whispered,
"Okay. Okay—Elle just became queen of the murder Roombas—"
Rowan hit him again.
But I wasn't finished.
I turned toward Lucian.
"You said you could teach me who I am."
My voice shook, but I kept it steady.
"You were wrong."
Lucian's expression darkened.
"You can't control that power."
"I am controlling it."
Barely.
Desperately.
But I was.
"And you," I whispered,
"don't control me."
Lucian's eyes sharpened with something cold—
anger.
Horace moved in front of me again, shoulder-to-shoulder, protective.
Lucian's voice turned razor-thin.
"Impressive.
But instinct tech always breaks eventually."
Horace snarled.
"I'll break YOU first."
Rowan stepped between them with a shaking hand.
"BOTH OF YOU—STOP—
THIS IS NOT THE TIME—"
Cassian groaned behind us, struggling to lift Aiden.
But Lucian ignored everyone except me.
His gaze pierced mine.
"Elleanore.
Do you know why the machines respond to you?
Why scent ghosts amplify you?
Why Elliot died protecting you?"
I stiffened.
Horace growled.
Lucian whispered:
"It wasn't because of your bloodline.
Or your threshold.
Or your Omega status."
He stepped closer—
Horace grabbed my wrist, grounding me.
Lucian continued softly:
"It's because you weren't meant to survive."
Silence dropped like a blade.
Horace stiffened violently.
Rowan's face drained.
Cassian's breath cracked.
Lucian smiled faintly.
"You were an anomaly the Royal Office meant to erase.
And Elliot kept interfering.
Until he became the first casualty."
My knees wobbled.
Horace caught me instantly, holding me up.
Lucian took advantage of the moment of shock and raised his hand toward the machines—
But they didn't move.
Because my fear—
my scent spike—
hit the air faster.
The machines recoiled.
Lucian's composure cracked.
Horace stepped forward, voice trembling with fury.
"You murdered Elliot because he protected her."
Lucian's expression softened into something like mock grief.
"I removed a complication."
I broke.
"S-Stop—"
My voice cracked.
"No more—no more lies—no more—"
Lucian lowered his hand.
"Then prove me wrong."
Rowan's tablet flashed violently.
"Horace—he's trying to trigger the machines against YOU—!"
Horace's scent flared in instinctive protection.
"Let him try."
Lucian murmured with quiet finality:
"Elleanore.
Make your choice.
Him—"
He nodded to Horace,
"—or the Crown."
The machines tensed.
Chandler whispered,
"Well.
We are absolutely screwed."
Cassian cried,
"Elleanore—please—choose—choose him—choose Horace—"
Rowan whispered,
"Elleanore… don't let Lucian pick for you."
Horace said nothing.
But his scent—
his trembling, fierce, terrified scent—
said everything.
I looked at Lucian.
Then at Horace.
Then—
I breathed.
Slow.
Clear.
And stepped backward—
directly into Horace's arms.
Horace exhaled with a broken sound—half relief, half disbelief.
Lucian didn't smile.
He didn't speak.
He simply raised his fingers—
and made a third signal.
Behind him—
the soldiers shifted.
Not toward me.
Not toward Horace.
Not toward the machines.
But toward Rowan.
And Rowan whispered, voice shaking:
"Horace…
he's not going to take Elleanore."
He looked up.
"He's going to take ME."
Horace's blood ran ice cold.
Lucian smiled without warmth.
"After all—someone needs to pay for the Omega Wing collapse."
And all hell broke loose.