"What if reliable people had to die for someone to get the infection out into the world?"
Arion went still, his thoughts spiraling with every scenario that could happen.
The hospital room seemed to shrink around them, white walls, sterile glass, monitors still protesting Nero's removed sensors, and the faint smell of antiseptic unable to drown the older scent of blood. Nero stood beside the bed, pale and upright, his split lip darkening again from the punch, his hands bleeding because he had forgotten to unclench them.
Arion looked at those hands.
Then at Nero's face.
"Reliable people," he said.
Nero's mouth curved without humor. "Anchors. Commanders. Stabilizers. People who can hold a line when everyone else breaks."
The names formed between them without needing to be spoken.
Otto.
Hendrik.
Arion.
Dean.
Nero.
Thomas.
Eva, if Andrea's leash had ever truly been cut.
Other dominants that got on the field through rotations.
Sebastian.
Especially Sebastian.
