Chapter 101: Protocols And Other Plans

Isabelle stepped through the doorway with Rina at her side, her steel-gray hair pulled into its usual bun, not a strand out of place despite their expedition.

Her pale ice-blue eyes swept the office in a single, efficient glance—taking in Kane’s still-flushed cheeks and rumpled shirt, then moving to Cyrus’s carefully neutral expression behind his desk.

She paused for exactly one beat.

Her gaze flicked between them again, noting Kane’s slightly swollen lips and the way Cyrus’s knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of his desk.

Isabelle arched her left eyebrow, a subtle gesture that anyone unfamiliar with her might have missed.

"We retrieved the samples," she announced, her voice as crisp and professional as always, giving no indication she’d noticed anything amiss.

Kane shot up from the couch, guilt crashing over him like ice water. "Rina—"

She looked solid now, her form no longer flickering between states, but her face was drawn and pale as winter moonlight.

The faint frost-lattice Isabelle had woven across her skin lingered still, glowing faintly like veins of moonlight beneath her clothes.

Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her usual confident posture had given way to something fragile.

"I’m okay," Rina said softly, managing a weak smile as Kane reached her side. "Better than before, at least."

Her knees buckled slightly, and Isabelle’s hand appeared at her elbow—not grabbing, just there, a steady presence that kept Rina upright without making it obvious.

Kane caught the subtle movement as Isabelle adjusted Rina’s coat, pulling it straight across her shoulders so the tremor in her hands wasn’t visible.

Isabelle guided Rina to the couch with the same quiet efficiency she brought to everything else.

"Sit," she instructed, though her tone held none of its usual executive sharpness.

Rina sank into the cushions with visible relief, and Isabelle positioned herself at the armrest.

From her coat, Isabelle produced a sleek black containment box, its surface etched with silver runes that seemed to shift in the office lighting.

She set it carefully on the low table between the couch and Cyrus’s desk.

"The samples are stabilized," Isabelle reported, her attention returning to business.

"Three vials of the synthetic agents."

Kane couldn’t help but notice how Isabelle’s gaze lingered on Rina’s pale face, checking for signs of distress with the same attention she applied to quarterly reports.

"The binding agent appears to be a hybrid compound," Rina added weakly, leaning forward despite her exhaustion.

"Part chemical, part spirit essence. Someone’s been experimenting."

Cyrus moved around his desk, his earlier passion completely masked by cool professionalism.

"Can our labs provide support for further analysis?" Cyrus asked, his voice steady and businesslike as he studied the containment box.

The runes pulsed faintly, casting silver shadows across the polished table surface.

"I was hoping you’d ask," Isabelle replied, her lips curving into the barest hint of a smile.

She turned toward Rina, her ice-blue eyes warming by degrees.

"Our biochemical division has equipment the Bureau lacks. Spectral analyzers, essence separators—tools designed specifically for hybrid compounds like this."

Rina straightened slightly, hope flickering across her features.

"You’d really help? Even though I’m not—"

"Half-spirit, full spirit, human—it makes no difference," Isabelle cut her off, her tone brooking no argument.

"Someone weaponized spirit essence. That makes it Veyr Corp’s concern."

Cyrus nodded approvingly.

"Provide Rina with whatever assistance she needs," he instructed Isabelle.

"Lab access, research personnel, and accommodations if necessary."

"Already arranged," Isabelle said smoothly.

"I reserved the guest suite on fifty-seven. A bit small, but comfortable."

Kane turned to Cyrus, his eyebrows lifting in surprise.

"You have guest accommodations here? I could have—"

Cyrus’s red eyes flashed with warning, a look so sharp it could have cut glass.

Kane’s words died in his throat as he caught the subtle shake of Cyrus’s head.

Isabelle and Rina didn’t need to know about their living arrangement—especially not after what had just happened between them on that couch.

"Your circumstances were... unique." Cyrus said coolly, his voice carrying just enough edge to discourage further questions.

"Besides, you don’t need it anymore."

Kane felt heat creep up his neck, unsure if Cyrus meant he didn’t need accommodation because he was staying at the penthouse, or because of... other implications.

Cyrus moved to his desk, straightening papers that didn’t need straightening.

"The guest suites are reserved for special circumstances only. Clients requiring extended stays, visiting dignitaries, emergency situations."

His gaze flicked meaningfully toward Rina.

"Medical cases that require our specialized resources."

Isabelle’s expression remained perfectly neutral, but Kane caught the slight tilt of her head—like she was filing away information for later analysis.

"Then I’ll take charge of Ms. Rina’s case personally. It would be reckless to entrust it to anyone else." Isabelle announced, her steel-gray gaze shifting between Cyrus and Rina with calculated precision.

Cyrus nodded without hesitation. "I trust your judgment completely, Isabelle."

The words carried weight—decades of mutual respect and shared challenges. Kane had watched Cyrus question everyone else’s decisions, but never Isabelle’s.

Cyrus turned toward Kane, his red eyes expectant.

"Do you find these arrangements suitable?"

Kane blinked, caught completely off guard. Cyrus was asking for his opinion? On actual decisions?

"I—yes," Kane managed, finding his voice. "Rina needs specialized help. Veyr Corp resources are exactly what she needs."

Rina smiled gratefully from the couch, some color returning to her pale cheeks.

"Thank you. Both of you."

Isabelle stood with fluid grace, adjusting her charcoal suit jacket.

"I’ll escort Ms. Rina to the medical wing as well. The sooner we begin analysis, the sooner we can stabilize her condition permanently."

Kane knelt beside the couch, his amber eyes meeting Rina’s worn gaze.

"You’re in the best possible hands," he said softly, gesturing toward Isabelle.

Rina’s shoulders relaxed slightly, some of the tension leaving her frame.

"What about the Bureau?"

He squeezed her hand gently.

"Your condition stays between us. No forced examinations, no classification protocols. You have my word."

Gratitude flickered across Rina’s features as she nodded.

Cyrus glanced at his watch, the platinum gleaming under the office lights.

"It’s getting late," he observed, his tone shifting to something more personal as his gaze found Kane’s.

"Isabelle, if everything is arranged for Ms. Rina’s accommodation and treatment—"

"Completely handled," Isabelle confirmed crisply.

"Then Kane and I have other plans for the evening."

Kane’s pulse quickened at the weighted way Cyrus said ’other plans,’ heat pooling in his chest as memories of their interrupted moment flooded back.