Chapter 90: The Bail

Ben grabbed my arm, holding me back. The fire on the water was spreading, a floating inferno that illuminated Clara's face.

"Give me my baby," she screamed again, her voice raw, animalistic. She tried to climb the piling, her fingers scrabbling on the slick wood.

"He's not yours," I shouted back, clutching the bundle tighter. "He's not anyone's."

"I made him!" Clara shrieked. "I gave the egg! I gave the life!"

She reached the top of the piling. She was soaked in oil, her hair plastered to her skull, her clothes dragging her down. She looked like something dredged from a nightmare.

"He's mine by right!" she yelled, lunging for me.

Ben stepped in front of me, raising the pistol.

"Stay back, Clara," he warned.

"Shoot me!" she screamed, not stopping. "Shoot your mother!"

Ben hesitated. Just for a second.

It was enough.

Clara tackled him. They went down hard on the wet wood of the pier. The gun skittered away, sliding toward the edge.

"Run, Sarah!" Ben grunted, trying to hold her off. But Clara was fueled by a hysterical strength. She clawed at his face, her thumbs going for his eyes.

I looked at the baby. He was quiet, shocked into silence by the noise. I looked at the gun.

It was teetering on the edge of the pier.

I put the baby down, tucking him behind a bollard.

"Stay there," I whispered.

I ran for the gun.

Clara saw me. She abandoned Ben and scrambled toward me on her hands and knees.

"No!" she hissed.

I dove.

My hand closed around the cold metal of the grip.

I rolled onto my back, raising the weapon.

Clara was on top of me.

She grabbed the barrel, wrestling for control. We fought in the dark, the firelight flickering on her face. Her eyes were wide, manic.

"Give it to me," she snarled. "Give me the power."

"You lost the power," I said, straining against her. "When you sold us."

"I didn't sell you," she spat. "I invested you. And now I'm collecting my dividends."

She twisted the gun. My finger was trapped in the trigger guard. Pain shot up my arm.

*Bang.*

The gun went off.

The bullet didn't hit Clara. It hit the wood next to her head.

But the recoil broke her grip.

I kicked her in the chest. She stumbled back, gasping.

I scrambled up, leveling the gun at her.

"Stay down," I said, my chest heaving.

Clara looked at the gun. Then at me.

She smiled. A slow, bloody smile.

"You look just like me," she whispered. "When I was young. When I was hungry."

"I'm nothing like you," I said.

" aren't you?" she asked. "You stole a baby. You caused an explosion. You're holding a gun on your own mother."

She took a step forward.

"We're the same, Sarah. Survivors. Architects."

"I'm a protector," I said. "And I'm protecting him from you."

"He needs me," Clara said. "His blood... it's pure. But it's unstable. Just like Leo's. Without me... without my knowledge... he'll burn out."

"We have the samples," I said. "We have the cure."

"You have vials," Clara scoffed. "Dead cells. I have the sequence. In my head."

She tapped her temple.

"Kill me, and you kill his future."

I hesitated. The gun felt heavy in my hand.

Was she lying? Or was this another layer of the trap?

"Don't listen to her," Ben said, getting to his feet. He was bleeding from a scratch on his forehead. "She's manipulating you."

"Am I?" Clara asked. "Look at the baby, Sarah. Look at his skin."

I glanced at the bollard. The baby was still there.

But something was wrong.

Even in the firelight, I could see it.

His skin was translucent. Pale. Veins visible beneath the surface.

"He's fading," Clara whispered. "The acceleration process... it has side effects. He needs stabilization. Now."

"How do we stabilize him?" I asked, not lowering the gun.

"I can do it," Clara said. "I have the enzyme. In my bag."

She pointed to a waterproof bag strapped to her waist.

"Let me save him."

I looked at the baby. He was so small. So fragile.

If she was telling the truth...

If I shot her, and he died...

"Show me," I said.

Clara reached into the bag. Slowly.

She pulled out a vial. And a syringe.

"See?" she said.

She took a step toward the baby.

"Stop," I said. " toss it to me."

"It's delicate," she said. "If it breaks..."

"Toss it."

She sighed. She tossed the vial.

I caught it with my free hand.

It was labeled *Stabilizer G-4.*

"Now the syringe," I said.

She tossed the syringe.

"Ben," I said. "You do it."

Ben took the items from me. He moved to the baby.

"Do you know the dosage?" Clara asked, her voice mocking.

"All of it," I guessed.

"Too much will stop his heart," she said. "Too little will do nothing. You need me."

I looked at Ben. He looked helpless.

"Tell us," I said to Clara.

"Come closer," she said.

"Tell us from there."

"0.5 cc," she said. "Intravenous."

Ben knelt by the baby. He found a vein in the tiny arm. He measured the dose.

He injected it.

We waited.

The baby let out a cry. A strong, healthy cry.

His color returned. The translucence faded.

"He's okay," Ben said, letting out a breath.

I looked at Clara.

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome," she said.

Then she lunged.

Not at me.

At the water.

She dove off the pier, vanishing into the dark, oily waves.

I ran to the edge. I aimed the gun.

But there was nothing to shoot. Just ripples.

"She's gone," Ben said.

"She'll be back," I said. "She won't stop."

Sirens wailed in the distance. The real police this time.

"We have to go," I said. "We have the baby. We have the cure. We have the evidence."

We ran back to the car. We drove away from the docks, away from the fire, away from the ghosts.

But as we crossed the bridge, leaving the city behind, my phone buzzed.

A text.

From Mark's number.

I froze. Mark was dead. Ben had said so.

I opened the message.

*Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.*

And below it, a photo.

Mark, in a hospital bed. Bandaged. Weak. But alive.

And standing next to him, holding his hand...

Was the lawyer I had stabbed.

And below the photo, a single line of text.

*I made a deal.*

I stared at the screen.

Mark had sold us out. Again.

And now, the bail was paid.

But the price was us.