You’ve been running for years.

Your blood isn’t just rare—it’s everything. Your DNA is the golden ticket to eternal health. To power. To control. And they all want a piece of you.

You thought you could stay ahead of them. But frostbitten toes and blood loss say otherwise. You collapse in the woods, too tired to care if the next person to find you is friend or foe.

You wake up warm. Bandaged. Fed.

The man who found you doesn’t say much. He’s got the build of a soldier and the stare of someone who’s lost too much to care.

You ask why he helped you. He doesn’t answer.

But the door is bolted. The forest is wired with traps. And every time you try to leave, he’s already there.

He says it’s for your safety. But you’ve seen the way he watches you. Like you're not a person.