Pheromonal: One Night With the Alpha-Chapter 97: It’s the Only Way

The shower’s warmth lingers in the steamed bathroom as I pull on the clothes laid out for me. A perfect fit—black leggings, sports bra, and a loose gray t-shirt. Of course they know my size. These people seem to know everything about me.

Back in the room, my gaze falls on a pair of pristine white sneakers at the foot of the bed. The sight of them sends a chill down my spine despite their innocent appearance. Everything here has a purpose, a calculated reason. Why new shoes? Why new clothes? Why a shower?

Dread fills my belly.

I slip them on, half-expecting them to be laced with poison or equipped with tracking devices. They’re comfortable. Too comfortable.

"What’s the occasion?" I ask Jim, but he remains silent in his chair, eyes closed.

The blue spirits catch my attention, zipping around the room with unusual vigor. Their movements remind me of disturbed bees, frantic and purposeful. They dart through walls and return, their ethereal forms pulsing with an intensity I haven’t seen before.

Something’s wrong.

The orange spirits that usually hover by the door like silent, terrified hostages are gone. The absence feels significant.

Something’s happening.

A blue spirit phases through my chest, leaving behind an icy sensation that makes me gasp. Another follows, then another. Their urgency is contagious, and I swear they’re trying to get my attention.

They don’t feel like anything when I reach out to touch them, or when they brush against me. It’s only when they want to have sensation, it seems.

I’m not sure how that works.

As I’m pondering the logistics of their spiritual bodies, the floor beneath my feet trembles.

A deep, thunderous roar tears through the building. The walls shake, and the fluorescent lights flicker. The sound reminds me of demolition sites, of controlled explosions that echo through city streets.

Except this doesn’t feel controlled at all.

Dr. Reeves slams open my door, staggering a little as he walks.

Then he takes the few strides needed to reach me and shoves something into my arms. A box. My heart skips when I spot the air holes punched through its sides. A soft mew confirms my suspicion.

"Princess Paws?"

"Are you certain about this?" Dr. Reeves asks Jim, his voice tight. He pays me no attention at all.

"It’s the only way." The other man’s words come out flat, emotionless.

The entire encounter is strange. The explosion is strange. What the hell is going on here?!

Dr. Reeves strides to Jim’s side, and my captor doesn’t flinch. Metal glints in the doctor’s hand—a syringe. Before I can react, he plunges it into Jim’s arm, causing him to slump forward in his chair just moments later.

Then he shoves his friend’s limp body to the ground and kicks the chair across the room.

"You have two minutes before the dragons find you." Dr. Reeves turns to me, his clinical detachment cracking. "I’ve done what I’m willing to do. If you’re smart, you won’t follow me."

He sweeps out, leaving the door wide open. The invitation to freedom hangs in the air like a trap ready to spring.

My legs won’t move. My brain screams to run, but shock roots me in place. Princess Paws mews again, the sound breaking through my paralysis.

The blue spirits whirl in front of me, their movements frantic. They dart toward the door, then back to me, like ethereal tour guides desperate for my attention.

My feet finally remember how to work, even if my legs tremble.

I bolt.

The spirits zip ahead, leading me down a sterile hallway. Left turn. Right turn. Another right. Their glow pulses brighter at each intersection, marking the path like supernatural breadcrumbs.

Behind me, something roars once again. Walls shake. The ground trembles beneath my new sneakers.

I clutch Princess Paws’ box tighter, sprinting after my agitated, orb-light friends.

The building shudders again, and dust rains from the ceiling. It’s hard to breathe, coughing as my feet pound against the ground. Even the light is dim as the air becomes more polluted with haze.

The blue glow of the spirits is my lifeline through the maze of corridors, until we finally make it to a staircase.

Down, down, down.

I almost trip a few times and have to slow my steps a little.

I haven’t had much chance to tour the place, but it looks like some sort of abandoned hospital from decades past, a vast difference from the (presumably) remodeled floor where I was held captive.

I don’t run into anyone.

No guards.

No orderlies.

No nurses.

It’s like a ghost town.

Another boom rocks the foundation, closer this time. Cracks spider across the walls, and I can only pray the whole place doesn’t come down on our heads. The spirits dash forward. How many flights have we gone down?

The blue spirits flash orange without warning, their light dimming to a dull amber. They veer a sharp right at the landing, through a doorway.

Yanking the door open, I follow.

Pain explodes across my scalp as something yanks me backward. The box slips from my grip, tumbling end over end as Princess Paws yowls inside.

"No!" I reach for her, even though it’s futile.

Ice-cold fingers dig into my upper arm, and my blood turns to frost. I know that touch. That unnatural chill that seeps through skin and muscle straight to the bone.

Then I’m spun around.

Xavier’s face fills my vision, twisted into something feral. Those unnaturally large purple irises burn with fury, pupils contracted to pinpoints. His perfectly styled hair is disheveled, suit jacket torn at the shoulder, and the smell of his sulfur-breath is strong enough to make me gag, overpowering the coughing fit from particles in the air.

He drags me behind him like a rag doll, heading back up the stairs, his grip bruising. I dig my heels into the floor, grabbing at the stair rails, digging my nails into the metal. There’s no way I’m going to let him drag me back up there again.

No fucking way.

Princess Paws cries from somewhere behind us. Each plaintive mew stabs at my heart.

"How did you get this far?" Xavier’s tone is light, conversational, as if we’re discussing the weather over coffee. The disconnect between his casual words and savage expression sends chills down my spine.

I’m done with this place. Done with these people. I have no idea why Jim or Dr. Reeves helped me escape, and I’m not going to give up this chance. It might be my only one.

"I used my feet." Sass is probably not a good choice in this situation, but I don’t give up, trying desperately to yank my arm out of his grip.

A deep groan reverberates through the building. Xavier’s head snaps up, and I follow his gaze.

I’ve watched enough 9/11 survivor stories to know what’s coming.

The ceiling splits apart with a thunderous crack.

Chunks of concrete and metal rain down, and Xavier’s icy grip vanishes as tons of debris crash onto him.

By some insane stroke of luck, the building still stands. But I have no idea how long I have.

My heart pounds hard enough to burst as I scramble back. Before Xavier can somehow superhumanly burst through the debris, I snatch up the box containing my traumatized kitten and dash down the stairs.

The spirits are gone, completely scattered, so I do the only thing that makes sense.

I continue down the stairwell.

I have to get out of this building before it collapses on top of me next.