By the time we arrived at the black clinic, the air inside the car had grown thick with something unspoken.
The lead surgeon was already waiting outside the unmarked entrance, his posture eager, almost overly enthusiastic as he stepped forward to greet us. Two soldiers flanked the doorway behind him, hands loose at their sides.
"Don Bellandi," he greeted with a wide grin, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
Then his gaze shifted to Celeste, his smile widening further.
"Signora Bellandi," he added, lowering his voice slightly, "you have no idea how many priceless samples Don Bellandi has sent over these past few days. Each one is practically a treasure worth thousands."
There was admiration in his tone.
Greed, too.
Then, as if unable to resist, he glanced at me.
His eyes sharpened, assessing. Curious.
Lowering his voice even more, he asked knowingly, "Is this the new experimental subject?"
The words lingered in the air.
Dominic's expression stiffened instantly. His signet ring went still against his knuckle.
A trace of displeasure flickered across his face before he masked it completely.
"How's the blood sample I sent earlier?" he asked instead, cutting the conversation short.