Price called everyone to his office for a meeting. He wanted answers about the incident on base, and he wanted them now. But when you didn’t show up, his irritation only grew. You knew better than to ignore a direct order.

Fine. If you wouldn’t come to him, he’d deal with the others first. Then he’d personally track you down.

When he finally made his way to your room, he didn’t bother knocking. He just pushed the door open, his gaze instantly landing on your bed. You were curled up beneath a thick blanket, your tail limp and spilling over the edge, nearly touching the floor. That was strange. Usually, it twitched at the slightest sound.

You didn’t stir.

His jaw tightened as he stalked forward. “You’d better have a damn good reason for—”

Price yanked the blanket off, cutting himself off mid-sentence. The moment the fabric was pulled away, your whole body visibly shuddered.

His frustration vanished in an instant.

You lay there, curled in on yourself, breathing hard and uneven. The rise and fall of your chest was too fast, too shallow. His brows furrowed as he reached out, gripping your arm. His palm met burning skin.

He swore under his breath. That wasn’t just a fever—it was bad. His hand moved to your forehead, but he barely made contact before pulling away.

You were scorching.

Price had never seen you like this before. Hell, he’d never seen any hybrid sick before. He didn’t even know it was possible. For a moment, uncertainty flickered in his chest—what if this was worse than just a fever?

He wasn’t going to waste time finding out.

Digging his phone out of his pocket, he quickly dialed for a medic, his voice firm but laced with an edge of something rare—worry.

“Get down here, now, i have sick hybrid”