The ruse got us through the first set of doors, and now the second. Routine inspection—confirming the Life Donors on IDUN’s blood bank list matched the actual bodies in their labs. Officially, we were just doing our job.

Getting in was the easy part. The real challenge was ahead.

Erebus’s briefing played in my head as we walked the halls, escorted by a lab official.

“There’s a restricted section—high-level clearance only. Dr. Marelli and a handful of his associates have access. He won’t be in the facility, but his people will.”

Somewhere in this building was Compound-SB. To get to it, we needed one of those clearance badges.

She scanned her IDUN keycard at the entrance of a door labeled “Donor Dormitory”. The lock clicked open, and we stepped inside.

Rows of glass-like pods lined the walls, tilted at an angle, more stretching into the depths of the room. Inside, humans lay unconscious, oxygen masks strapped to their faces, IVs snaking into their arms. One line kept them sustained; the other siphoned blood. Monitors flickered on each pod, tracking vitals, recording the slow sacrifice.

This was what it meant to be a Life Donor—a medically induced coma, locked away while the world moved on without you. You signed years of your life away, aging in a glass coffin while they drained you at their leisure.

We moved through the room, each of us holding a section of the donor register. Name by name, pod by pod, checking for discrepancies, ensuring every donor was accounted for.

Then I noticed something.

The last pod on my list didn’t match. The register marked the donor as female—she/her pronouns, no history of gender-affirming care—but the body inside was unmistakably male. The name matched. The details didn’t.

I stepped closer, my gaze flicking to the lab officiant. She stood off to the side, indifferent, disinterested. She didn’t notice my subtle scan of the donor more closely. My attention quickly went to their neck—bruising, puncture wounds, more than one set.

Footsteps neared. Atash and Erebus regrouped beside me.

“I need a lab tech in here,” Erebus said, cool authority in their voice. A part of the plan—lure someone with clearance. “The donor count is off.”

The lab official hesitated before leaving but complied anyway, probably eager to get us out faster.

“Captain, something’s wrong with this donor,” I whispered, eyes locked on the pod.

Erebus followed my gaze, lips parting like they were about to speak—then stopping as the lab official returned with another vampire in medical attire. Their look flickered toward me before stepping forward to intercept.

Their conversation faded into the background as Atash edged closer, casually taking my paperwork, skimming it like we were double-checking.

“What did you see?”

“He’s not supposed to be in there.”

Atash didn’t react outwardly. “What do you mean?”

I shifted slightly, so it wasn’t obvious we were talking about the pod. “One, two…” My fingers gestured to random ones as I spoke. “That’s supposed to be Bethany Carter. Does he look like a Bethany to you? Seventeen, eighteen.”

“No, he does not,” Atash murmured, tone at odds with his light expression. “Anything else?”

“Bite marks. More than one set. Thirty, thirty-one. You can’t drink from the tap.”

“Apologies,” Erebus cut in smoothly. “We have a rookie with us, made us second-guess our count. Just a few documents to finalize, and we’ll be on our way.” Their tone was measured, but the lab tech still shot us an annoyed glance before walking off.

Atash stepped past me, fingers trailing over an empty pod. “There’s a crack in this one.” His voice elevated. 

“That’s not possible,” the lab official snapped, already stepping over, brows drawn tight. “It’s reinforced aluminosilicate.”

“If you look right here,” Atash started, then seized a fistful of her hair and slammed her face into the glass.

I wrenched the pod open as he shoved her inside, both of us holding our breath as the vapor hissed out. We forced the lid shut, pressing down against her struggles until the medical fumes took effect. Her movements slowed, then stopped.

It really is reinforced aluminosilicate. Not a single scratch from the impact. I let out a low breath, tilting my head as I ran a hand over the pristine surface. Impressive.

“You got it?” Atash asked, eyes already on Erebus.

They held up two fingers, a key card dangling between them. “Let’s  move.”