Wolfless? No! Call Me Alpha Commander! novel Chapter 271

Chapter 271

Claire’s POV

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The violet light wasn’t just a color; it was a weight. It felt like standing at the bottom of a very deep, very cold ocean while someone slowly drained the air out of my lungs.

Every time the floor of the glass cylinder pulsed, I felt a tugging sensation in the center of my chest, right where the Anchor’s spark lived.

It was a rhythmic, agonizing hollow out-thump-pull, thump-pull.

88 bpm. My heart rate was dropping, and not in a “yay, I’m relaxed” kind of way. It was losing momentum, like someone was actively pulling the life out of me.

Proctor Vane had finally left the room, leaving the two hazmat-suited scientists to monitor the consoles.

The lab was eerily quiet, save for the hum of the dampening fields and the occasional skritch-skritch of a stylus on a digital pad. They thought I was sedated enough to be a vegetable. They thought the glass was an absolute barrier.

They were wrong.

I pressed my forehead against the cold surface, closing my eyes. I needed to focus, but the “static” Vane had mentioned was everywhere.

It was like trying to think while a radio was blaring white noise directly into my brain.

Find the gap, Claire, I told myself. Everything has a frequency. Even this cage.

I reached out with my mind, not trying to pull energy from the outside this time-I knew that was a dead end. Instead, I looked inward.

I looked for the tiny, jagged piece of the Reaper’s void that had snagged on my soul during the fight at the Manor. It was a cold, dead spot, a little knot of “nothing” that the Citadel’s sensors hadn’t been able to scrub

away.

If the glass was designed to eat light, maybe it wouldn’t know what to do with the dark.

I focused on that cold spot, feeding it my frustration, my fear, and the memory of the black-gloved hand over my mouth.

The knot grew, spreading like an ink stain through my veins. It hurt though-a sharp, biting cold that made my breath hitch-but it was working.

The violet light of the extraction floor didn’t seem to know how to “grab” the shadow. The tugging in my chest eased.

92 bpm. Better.

18:08 Tue, Feb 3

Chapter 271

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I opened my eyes. One of the scientists was walking toward the cylinder, a data-slate in his hand. He looked bored, his movements robotic.

“Extraction rate is dipping,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the mask. “Subject 01 is exhibiting anomalous resistance.

Adjust the gain on the primary siphon.”

“Wait,” the other scientist called out from the console. “Look at the thermal read. Her core temperature is dropping too fast. If we spike the gain now, we’ll trigger a cardiac arrest.”

“The Proctor said ten percent by morning,” the first one snapped. “If she dies at nine percent, it’s still a win. Just do it.”

I felt the floor vibrate with a new, aggressive energy. The violet light shifted to a harsh, angry crimson.

The pull came back, ten times stronger than before. It felt like my ribs were being forced open from the inside.

I didn’t fight the pull. I leaned into it.

I took that “ink stain” of shadow and pushed it toward the sensor probe they’d left embedded in the base of the cylinder.

I didn’t try to break the glass; I tried to infect the machine. I poured the cold, empty “nothing” into the silver needles, imagining it flowing like poison through the Citadel’s nervous system.

For a second, nothing happened. Then, a tiny spark of black electricity jumped from the probe to the floorboards.

Pop.

The crimson light flickered. A smell of ozone and melting plastic filled the cylinder.

“What was that?” the scientist at the console shouted. “We have a feedback surge! Sector four is red-lining!”

“Shut it down! Redirect the load to the secondary buffer!”

I didn’t stop. I pushed harder, my vision blurring.

I wasn’t just sending shadow anymorg; I was sending my own heartbeat. I synced the “nothing” to the rhythm

of the extraction.

Thump-glitch. Thump-glitch.

The consoles across the room started to scream-a high-pitched, digital wail that made the scientists

scramble.

Sparks began to shower down from the ceiling as the dampening fields struggled to process the “void” I was feeding them.

18:08 Tue, Feb 3

Chapter 271

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“The dampeners are inverted!” the lead scientist yelled, his voice cracking with panic. “She’s not a battery anymore-she’s a black hole! The glass is going to shatter!”

“Evacuate the chamber! Alert the Proctor!”

The two men bolted for the heavy blast doors, their boots clattering on the metal floor. The doors hissed shut, locking with a final, heavy thud.

I was alone in the screaming lab. The glass cylinder was vibrating so hard I could feel the microscopic cracks forming against my palms.

The violet and crimson lights were clashing in a chaotic mess of purple sparks, and the air inside the cage was getting hot-deadly hot.

I slumped to the floor, my strength spent. The “ink stain” was gone, used up in the surge, leaving me feeling raw and hollowed out.

I looked at the cracks in the glass. I’d broken the siphon, and I’d probably fried half the Citadel’s local grid, but I was still in the cage.

And the lab was filling with a thick, yellow gas-the failsafe.

Vane wasn’t going to let me go. If she couldn’t harvest me, she was going to preserve me in a different way.

A permanent way.

I pressed my face against the floor, trying to find a pocket of clean air. My heart was a slow, tired 60 bpm.

Elijah, I thought, the darkness finally closing in for real. I hope you’re not looking for me at the Manor. Because I think I just blew up the map.

The last thing I heard before the yellow fog took me was the sound of the glass finally, mercifully, beginning to spiderweb.

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