The needle looked wrong in Sharon's hand.
Too long. Too deliberate. Too final.
She had performed spinal taps before—hundreds of them, maybe more. Emergency cases. Preterm complications. Situations where risk had been weighed and accepted because there was still a future on the other side of it.
This didn't feel like that.
Evan lay on his side now, repositioned with careful precision. McAllister and Daniels stabilized the bed while Patel adjusted the angle, every movement slow and quiet, like sound itself might wake something worse.
The hallway beyond the door shifted.
Not footsteps.
Dragging.
A soft scrape, scrape, scrape that came and went, followed by a low moan that rose, faded, then returned from somewhere farther down the wing.
Reyes glanced toward the door. "They're still out there."
"They're always out there," Patel said quietly.
Nguyen adjusted the portable lamp, angling it toward Evan's lower back. His skin was flushed and fever-hot, dotted with gooseflesh despite the heat radiating off him. Sweat soaked the sheets beneath him.
"Sedation holding?" Sharon asked.
"For now," McAllister said. "But barely."
Evan stirred.
His lashes fluttered, and a weak sound slipped from his throat—half whimper, half breath.
Sharon felt her chest tighten again.
"Evan," she said softly. "You're doing great, okay?"
His eyes cracked open.
For a second, confusion clouded them. Then fear rushed in, fast and complete.
"Why—" he rasped. "Why am I sideways?"
Reyes closed her eyes.
Sharon leaned closer, keeping her voice steady, warm. "We're just helping you feel better."
Evan's brow furrowed. "My back hurts."
"I know," Sharon said. "It will be quick."
He searched her face again, desperately. "You're my mom, right?"
The question cut straight through her.
She swallowed. "I'm here for you."
That seemed to be enough.
Evan nodded weakly. "Okay."
Nguyen pressed her lips together and turned away, blinking hard.
Patel met Sharon's eyes briefly—silent confirmation.
Now or never.
Sharon cleansed the area carefully, the scent of antiseptic sharp and familiar. Her hands moved on instinct, muscle memory guiding her even as her mind screamed at her to stop.
The needle slid in.
Evan gasped.
His body jerked once, violent enough that Daniels had to brace harder against the bed.
"Hold him," Sharon said, voice tight but controlled.
Evan cried out—not loud, but broken. "Mama—please—"
"I'm here," Sharon said immediately. "I've got you."
Clear fluid began to drip into the collection vial.
Cerebrospinal fluid.
Nguyen leaned in, eyes narrowing. "It's cloudy."
Patel frowned. "It shouldn't be."
Sharon didn't look away from the vial. "What does that mean?"
Patel's jaw tightened. "Inflammation. Infection. Something's wrong at the cellular level."
Evan's breathing hitched.
Then he screamed.
Not loud enough to echo—but sharp enough to freeze everyone in place.
The sound carried.
From the hallway came an answering moan.
Then another.
Closer.
"Shit," Daniels muttered under his breath.
Reyes whispered, "They heard that."
"We finish," Sharon said immediately. "Now."
The drip accelerated, fluid filling the vial faster than expected. Nguyen capped it quickly, hands shaking despite herself.
"Done," she said.
Sharon withdrew the needle smoothly, pressing gauze to Evan's back.
For a moment—just a moment—he went still.
Then his eyes flew open.
And whatever had been drifting in and out of him snapped forward hard.
He snarled.
The sound didn't belong to a child.
Evan thrashed violently, restraints creaking as his body surged against them. Foam bubbled thickly at his mouth now, spilling over his lips and down his chin. His teeth snapped again, jaw clenching so hard Sharon heard it grind.
"Secure!" Patel barked.
Daniels moved instantly, tightening the restraints another notch despite the way Evan screamed at the pressure.
"Easy," Sharon said urgently. "Easy—"
Evan bucked again, strength far beyond what his body should have had left. His nails scraped against the bedrail, leaving faint streaks of blood.
Nguyen stared. "That's not pain response. That's aggression."
McAllister nodded grimly. "Executive function's gone again."
Evan's eyes locked onto Sharon's face.
For a terrifying second, there was recognition there.
Then it vanished.
He lunged as far as the restraints allowed, teeth snapping at the air, saliva spraying.
Everyone stepped back at once.
The moaning in the hallway rose—one voice becoming many.
"Door," Daniels said sharply.
Patel moved to it, checking the seal. "Still holding."
Sharon's heart hammered as she looked back at Evan.
He strained against the straps, chest heaving, foam dripping onto the sheets. His breathing sounded wet now, rattling deep in his throat.
Then—just as suddenly as it started—
He sagged.
The aggression drained out of him like someone had pulled a plug.
Evan collapsed back onto the mattress, eyes rolling, breath shallow and uneven.
Silence fell.
The moaning outside lingered—but didn't surge closer.
Not yet.
Reyes sank onto a chair, shaking. "I can't— I don't think I can do this again."
Sharon didn't look at her. She couldn't stop watching Evan.
"Document everything," Sharon said quietly. "Timing. Symptoms. Strength. Saliva production."
Nguyen nodded, already scribbling notes with hands that trembled.
Patel stared at Evan's chest rising and falling. "He's transitioning faster after each cycle."
McAllister checked the monitor. "We don't have much time."
Sharon knew.
She stepped closer again, even though every instinct screamed at her not to.
Evan's eyes fluttered open one last time.
This time, they were clear.
Fully clear.
He looked at her, tears slipping down his temples into his hair.
"Mama," he whispered. "I'm tired."
Sharon leaned down, close enough that no one else could hear her voice break.
"I know, sweetheart."
"Can I sleep now?"
Her throat closed.
"Yes," she whispered. "You can rest."
Evan's lips curved into the faintest, most devastating smile.
"Okay."
His eyes closed.
The monitor beeped steadily.
For now.
Sharon straightened slowly, turning away before anyone could see the tears finally spill.
Behind her, the boy on the bed breathed on.
But everyone in the room understood the truth settling between them:
Whatever was inside Evan was winning.
And they were running out of time.