Chapter 11 - The Awoken Instinct
Ron lay against the pillar, his vision blurring, unable to draw breath. He watched in helpless terror as the three soldiers surrounded the tiny toddler. Leo did not run. Instead, he reached into his belt and produced the amber vial he had taken from the case.
""Don't do it, 31,"" the leader warned, raising a tranquilizer dart rifle. ""The serum stabilizes your neural net, but at your developmental stage, it will permanently sever your higher cognitive emotions. You will never speak again. You will only hunt.""
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Leo looked back at Ron. In those brief milliseconds, Ron saw the spark of a normal boy—a boy who wanted ice cream, who wanted a bedtime story, who wanted his mother’s hug. Then, Leo placed the glass tip against his own forearm and snapped it.
The amber liquid absorbed instantaneously through the punctured skin. Leo’s pupils expanded until his eyes were entirely black, swallowing the hazel irises. His small body bowed as tendons tightened like steel cables beneath his childish skin. A sound that belonged to no human child tore from his throat—a high-pitched, vibrating hum that caused the armored soldiers to raise their weapons in sudden apprehension.
