Chapter 13: White Threat

But the method... the method would require trust, vulnerability, and a level of intimacy that seemed impossible to explain or justify to two strangers, no matter how desperate the circumstances.

My hand moved instinctively to my face, and before I could stop myself, I’d slapped my own cheek hard enough to leave it stinging. Rebecca jumped at the sudden sound, raising her knife higher.

"Sorry," I muttered, feeling heat flood my face. "I just... I need to think."

How could I possibly explain what I’d learned about my abilities? How could I tell them that there was a cure, but it required something that sounded insane, perverted, impossible? How could I ask Rachel to trust me with something so intimate when she was fighting for her sanity and her sister was standing right there with a knife pointed at my chest?

Heat flooded my cheeks as the reality of what I had to do crashed over me.

My stomach churned with a nauseating mixture of embarrassment and desperation. The very thought of it made my skin crawl, yet I couldn’t escape the crushing weight of necessity bearing down on my shoulders.

Time was my enemy now, ticking away with merciless precision. Each second that passed brought Rachel closer to the point of no return—that terrifying threshold where her humanity would slip away forever.

Once the final transformation completed, my unique ability would become useless I was sure of it. You can’t cure what’s already biologically dead.

Emily’s words echoed in my mind at that time.

She basically said that ’With great power comes great responsibility’.

And damn it, she was right—even now, even when following her advice felt impossible.

I couldn’t just stand here, paralyzed by my own discomfort, while a good woman died. Rachel didn’t deserve that fate.

I possessed the power to save her, yet I was trapped by the very nature of that salvation. How do you approach someone and explain that sex is the only cure for a deadly infection? The words sounded insane even in my own head. She’d think I was some perverted psychopath taking advantage of her desperation. She might even try to kill me before the infection got the chance.

I pressed my palms against my temples, feeling a headache building behind my eyes. The logical part of my brain knew what had to be done, but my conscience recoiled from the manipulation it would require. I had to somehow convince her to be intimate with me without revealing the true nature of my ability.

But what choice did I have? Let her die to preserve my own moral comfort? That would make me a coward of the worst kind.

I forced myself to take several deep breaths, feeling the tremor in my hands gradually subside. The panic was still there but I pushed it down deep where it couldn’t paralyze me.

"I can do this," I whispered to myself. "I have to do this."

Pulling my hands away from my face, I straightened my shoulders and walked toward Rachel’s bedroom door.

"Miss Rachel," I called out, surprised by how steady my voice sounded. "I know someone who got cured, but I have to bring you to that doctor I know first."

The silence stretched for several heartbeats before her voice came through the door, weak and disbelieving. "I—It can be cured...?"

"Is that true?" Rebecca asked next to me in shock.

I nodded to both of them. "Yes, it’s true. But we need to move quickly."

"Believe me," I continued, directing my words toward Rachel’s door. "Can you let me enter? We don’t have much time."

"No!" Rachel refused once again. "It’s dangerous! Take Rebecca away now! PLEASE!"

Damn it, she was running out of time.

I turned back to Rebecca, who was still gripping that kitchen knife like her life depended on it. Her knuckles were white, and I could see the pulse hammering in her throat.

"Get back in your room," I said. "Prepare a bag with only the important necessities—things you might need outside. We’ll be leaving soon."

"I am not leaving without my sister!" She glared at me, raising the knife slightly. The blade caught the light.

Can you please stop pointing that thing at me?

!

"I know you won’t," I said, taking a half-step back to give her space. "But I have to convince her first, and she won’t let me enter as long as you’re around. She’s trying to protect you, even now. So let me deal with her while you take a shower and get ready. Not for me," I added quickly, seeing the suspicion flare in her eyes, "but for your sister. She needs to know you’ll be safe."

Rebecca’s hand trembled, the knife wavering as conflicting emotions warred across her face.

"Can..." she started, then stopped, swallowing hard. "Can you really save her?"

"I promise you," I said, meeting her eyes directly. "Take your time to get ready, and I’ll come back with your sister. We’ll all leave together, safe. I have a car parked underground—we can be out of here in thirty minutes."

Rebecca’s eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t expected me to have an escape plan already in place. I could see her weighing my words, searching my face for any sign of deception.

After what felt like an eternity, she gave a sharp nod. "Okay! But you better get my sister out of here!" The threat was implicit but clear—if I failed, she’d probably try to gut me with that knife.

Joking obviously.

I mean she won’t right?

Rebecca rushed toward her room, pausing at the threshold to look back at me one more time. "Don’t let her down," she said quietly, then disappeared inside, closing the door with a soft click.

Taking another deep breath, I approached Rachel’s door again. This was it—the moment of truth. Everything I’d learned about manipulation, persuasion, and human psychology would need to come into play so in short nothing. But I will have to do it.

The thought made me feel dirty, but Rachel’s life was worth more than my conscience.

"Miss Rachel," I called softly, pressing my palm against the door. "I sent your sister back to her room. She’ll be safe there while we talk. Can you let me enter now? Please. I can help you, but I need you to trust me."

"Ryan... it’s dangerous—"

"If it gets too dangerous, I promise I’ll leave immediately," I replied.

A long moment of silence stretched between us but then I heard it—the scraping of heavy furniture being dragged across the floor. She’d barricaded herself in, probably using her dresser or bookshelf to keep the door secure from the inside.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing a sliver of the room beyond. Then it widened, and I saw Rachel for the first time since this nightmare began.

I’d known she was beautiful—both sisters were blessed with the kind of natural beauty that turned heads wherever they went. At twenty, Rachel possessed an ethereal quality that made her seem almost untouchable. Her auburn hair, usually lustrous and perfectly styled, was now pulled back in a hasty ponytail that did little to contain the unruly strands framing her face. Those striking hazel-green eyes still sparkled despite her situation.

But it was the change in her appearance that surprised me. Her skin was slightly pale, sweat beaded on her forehead and upper lip, and I could see the slight tremor in her hands as she gripped the doorframe for support.

The moment I stepped inside, Rachel retreated like a frightened animal, backing against the far wall with quick, jerky movements. H

"Close the door," she whispered, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.

I nodded and pushed the door shut behind me.

Rachel stood pressed against the wall, her arms crossed protectively over her chest, those beautiful eyes fixed on me with a mixture of fear and desperate hope. "Please..." her voice cracked slightly. "Just take her away. I won’t let her see me become one of those monsters."

She was terrified—not of dying, but of what she might become. Of what Rebecca might witness.

"You don’t believe my story about the doctor and the cure?" I asked, though I already knew the answer from the resignation in her posture.

Rachel shook her head slowly, a bitter smile lingering at the corners of her mouth. "It doesn’t matter anymore. It’ll be over for me long before we could reach anyone."

She’d already accepted her fate, but she was still fighting—not for herself, but for her sister.

Setting my bag down on the floor with, I straightened and met her gaze. "I will safely take your sister out of this place."

Relief flooded her features. "Thank you," she breathed, her voice filled with gratitude.

"But I won’t do it for free."

I watched as understanding dawned in her eyes, followed immediately by confusion and disbelief. Her expression shifted from gratitude to wariness in the span of a heartbeat.

"M—Money?" She let out a short, humorless laugh that contained more pain than amusement. "Even though the world is falling into ruins?"

Without hesitation, she moved to a small wooden shelf in the corner. She retrieved a metal box, the kind people used to store important documents or valuables. Her hands shook slightly as she opened it, revealing neat stacks of bills held together with rubber bands.

"All I have," she said. "Five thousand. Take it."

Oh man.

I could picture her working double shifts at whatever job she’d managed to find, counting every penny, denying herself small luxuries so she could save for Rebecca’s future. Maybe college tuition, or a deposit on a better apartment, or just the security of knowing they’d be okay if something happened.

My face threatened to betray me, emotions warring beneath the surface. I felt like the worst kind of predator, taking advantage of a dying woman’s desperation. Every instinct screamed at me to tell her the truth, to explain about the cure, to find another way.

But I couldn’t. Not if I wanted to save her life.

I forced my expression back into a cold mask, burying the self-loathing deep where she couldn’t see it. "Who said I wanted money?"

Rachel blinked, confusion replacing the exhaustion in her eyes. "What?"

I let my gaze drop purposefully, pointedly, letting it linger on the curve of her body beneath the oversized black turtleneck she wore. The gesture was calculated, predatory—everything I despised about myself in that moment.

Understanding hit her right after thanks to my obvious gaze "You..."

The word came out strangled. I watched as disgust and betrayal warred across her features, saw the exact moment her faith in human decency shattered. Tears gathered in her eyes, threatening to spill over, and I had to clench my fists to keep from reaching out to comfort her.

Don’t give me that look,

I pleaded silently.

I’m trying to save you.

"I thought..." She began, her voice breaking. "I thought you were a good person, but you’re just like all the others..."

The accusation cut deeper than any blade. I wanted to scream the truth at her, to explain that this wasn’t what it seemed, that I was trying to cure her, not use her. But the words died in my throat. She’d never believe me. Hell, I could barely believe it myself.

"I don’t care what you think of me, Rachel," I said. "I told you what I want. Let me sleep with you before you turn into a monster, and I’ll get your dear sister out of this place to safety."

Rachel’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her whole body trembling with rage and humiliation. "You..."

"If you refuse," I continued, hating myself more with every word, "well, you’ll never know what happens to your sister after you become that monster. So it’s up to you."

"You!" She took a step forward, fury overriding caution.

I drew my knife in one smooth motion, the blade catching the light as I held it between us. "Don’t try anything," I warned, my voice deadly calm. "Useless bloodshed, and then your sister will be alone. If she’s lucky, she’ll have both of us eating her as monsters—though I’m quite confident in my ability to take you down before that happens."

Rachel stopped dead, her eyes fixed on the weapon.

"You know what the best solution is for Rebecca," I pressed on, driving the knife deeper into her heart with words instead of steel. "What shame and pride do you want to hold onto when you’re going to die soon anyway? Or maybe you don’t care about your sister after all? I can guarantee her protection."

The words were carefully chosen, designed to hit exactly where it would hurt most. I watched them land like physical blows, saw her face crumple as the terrible logic of my argument sank in. She was dying. Rebecca would be alone. What did her dignity matter compared to her sister’s life?

Rachel bit her lip so hard I thought she might draw blood, her whole body shaking as she fought an internal war between revulsion and love. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet.

"Fine..."