Right behind him walked Brennon Hart. Brennon wore the immaculate, gold-trimmed uniform of the Academy. His jaw was tight, his hands clenched into rigid fists at his sides. He looked at Aislinn with eyes like crushed ice.
Clayton reached the operating table. He let out a sharp laugh and jabbed his index finger directly into the bloody bandages over Aislinn's heart.
The physical shock of the pain made Aislinn's body violently flinch. Her breath hitched in her throat.
Clayton smirked. He punched a code into the side panel.
The high-polymer straps snapped back.
With nothing holding her up, Aislinn rolled off the slick metal table. She hit the freezing floor hard. The impact jarred her bones and ripped her fresh sutures wide open. Hot blood instantly soaked through the thin fabric of her hospital gown, pooling on the tiles.
Brennon stopped two feet away. He looked down at her bleeding out on the floor.
"This is the price of your selfishness, Aislinn," Brennon said. His voice was completely hollow.
Aislinn lifted her head. Her damp hair clung to her face. She looked up at the man who had claimed to love her in her past life. Her chest tightened, not from heartbreak, but from the sheer, nauseating absurdity of it all.
She didn't waste her breath arguing. She planted her blood-slicked palms flat on the floor and pushed, trying to force her broken body to stand.
Clayton saw her moving. His eyes darkened. He grabbed the collar of her gown and hauled her halfway off the floor, his knuckles digging into her collarbone.
"Stop playing dead," Clayton spat, his saliva hitting her cheek. "Gayla is in the ICU waiting for your final data metrics."
Clayton turned and dragged her toward the door. Aislinn's legs dragged uselessly behind her. Her knees scraped against the metal floor, leaving a thick, dark smear of blood in their wake.
Brennon followed them out. He kept his fists clenched, staring straight ahead, convincing himself this brutality was just protocol.
Clayton dragged her out of the lab and into the Academy's main medical corridor.
The hallway was packed. Dozens of elite students lined the walls, their eyes wide with morbid curiosity and disgust.
A blonde girl in the front row pinched her nose and took a step back.
"Disgusting," the girl announced loudly. "A genetic thief who doesn't even know how to be grateful."
A boy next to her held up his holographic terminal, the blue recording light blinking as he filmed Aislinn's bleeding, broken state.
Aislinn let her head loll to the side. Her dead eyes tracked over their faces. She memorized every sneer. Every laugh.
Clayton stopped dead in the center of the four-way intersection. He shoved Aislinn forward, tossing her onto the white tiles like a bag of medical waste.
Aislinn hit the ground. The impact forced a wet cough from her lungs. She spat a mouthful of blood onto the pristine floor.
Brennon stepped forward. He unclasped his hands and read from his terminal, his voice a mechanical drone.
"Due to Aislinn Conley's selfishness and genetic rejection, which placed student Gayla in critical danger, she is hereby stripped of her elite status."
The crowd erupted. Cheers and vicious boos echoed off the high ceilings. They were judging a monster.
Aislinn kept her head down. Hidden by the curtain of her hair, the corners of her mouth stretched into a wide, unhinged smile.
Beneath her skin, her bio-electricity began to cycle at a terrifying speed. Her pulse roared in her ears. The energy connected directly to the compressed Phoenix core in her chest.
Aislinn slowly pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. She tilted her head back and locked eyes with Brennon.
"You're all about to find out," Aislinn whispered, her voice raspy and wet with blood, "what real danger looks like."
Above them, the corridor's massive energy-sensing lights began to violently flicker as her bio-electric field bled into the air.