DAVE

My apartment had never felt so small. It was a one-bedroom place in Queens with wallpaper coming off the walls and a window that looked out at a brick wall. Usually, it was just me and my messy clothes. But with Meredith Stevens dying on my bed, Elena pacing like she was trapped and Doc James laying out surgical tools on my stained kitchen table, it felt like a tomb.

"The lighting is better in here," Doc James muttered, putting on a pair of latex gloves. He was a guy who'd seen too much and said too little, the perfect doctor for a someone like me who was currently breaking ten different laws.

"Move her."

I walked over to the bed. Meredith was going in and out of being awake. Her skin was very pale, almost see-through. But the cut on her side was dark purple and angry. It looked like it was rotting from the inside.

She was shaking so hard the bed frame rattled. I picked her up. She felt light, but her body was hot. It was like holding a hot kettle. I carried her to the kitchen and put her on the wooden table. It was old and wobbly, but it was all we had.

"Elena, hold the flashlight. Keep it steady," James ordered.

Elena's hands were shaking, but she grabbed the light. I stood at the head of the table, pinning Meredith's shoulders down.

"This is going to hurt," James muttered, reaching for a bottle of antiseptic. "I don't have enough anesthesia to knock her out completely, so she's going to feel this."

"Are you kidding me?" I hissed. "Just do it."

As soon as the cold liquid touched the wound, Meredith's eyes opened wide. My heart almost stopped. They weren't hazel anymore. They were the scary, beautiful gold I had seen in her apartment. They looked like melted metal, bright and strong, even while she was confused. She made a sound that wasn't a scream. It was a low growl from deep in her chest. It made the hair on my arms stand up.

"Hold her!" James yelled.

Meredith's hand shot up, fast like a snake, and grabbed my arm. Her grip was crazy. I could hear my jacket ripping. Her nails cut through my jacket and shirt and dug into my skin. For a second, I thought she might break my arm. No girl her size no person should be that strong.

I looked into those gold eyes. She was scared, lost in some kind of fever. I stopped thinking like a detective and just tried to hold her steady.

"I've got you, Meredith," I whispered, leaning close so only she could hear me. "Just stay with me. It's almost over. I'm not letting anything happen to you."

She didn't say anything, but she didn't let go. She looked at me like I was the only thing keeping her from fading away.

James leaned in with a pair of forceps. He had to go deep, past the layers of tissue that looked burned. Meredith let out a broken gasp that made me want to hit something. Her body lifted off the table, and I had to press down on her shoulders with all my strength to keep her still.

Clink

James dropped a small, sharp piece of metal into a metal bowl. It made a loud ringing sound that filled the quiet kitchen. The piece was dull and grey. It didn't look like the shiny steel of a normal pocketknife.

"Found the problem," James said, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his glove. "A piece of the blade broke off inside. High-grade silver. That's why the infection was spreading so fast. Her body was trying to get rid of it, but it was too deep."

"Who even carries a silver knife in 2026?" James said, dumping the bowl in the sink.

"That's some old-school, paranoid stuff. Like he thought he'd find a vampire or something."

I didn't answer. I couldn't tell him that the "paranoid stuff" was the reason Meredith Stevens was dying on my kitchen table. I just watched her eyes finally cloud over, and she went limp. The gold faded back to dull hazel, and she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

Half an hour later, the doctor was gone. I had moved Meredith to my bed. It felt strange having her there-the billionaire "Iron Goddess" under my old blue comforter in my tiny bedroom-but it was the only place she could really rest. I'd sleep on the floor tonight, which was fine. My back was already killing me anyway.

Elena was in the kitchen, scrubbing a bloodstain off the table so hard it could take the paint off. She looked like she was a million miles away.

"Detective?" she asked, her voice small and shaky.

"Yeah?" I said, leaning against the doorframe.

"What kind of person carries a silver knife?" She looked up at me, her eyes red from crying. "And why did she act like that? The growling... the way she looked. That wasn't just a fever, was it?"

I looked at the floor. I wasn't ready to talk about this. Not when I didn't even have the answers.

"I don't know, Elena. This whole case is a mess. Just... try to get some sleep on the couch, okay? We have a long day tomorrow."

I went back into the bedroom to check on her. Meredith was completely still, breathing shallow but steady. Her phone, sitting on the nightstand next to her expensive bag, suddenly lit up with a loud, sharp ping.

I picked up the phone, my thumb hovering over the screen. It was a text from that Unknown Number again. My heart started thumping hard in my chest.

I SAW YOU LEAVE THE OFFICE IN THE DETECTIVE'S CAR, MEREDITH. QUEENS IS A LONG WAY FROM HOME. I'LL GIVE YOU ONE NIGHT TO HEAL BEFORE I COME TO GET WHAT'S MINE.

My stomach sank. To get what's mine.

I walked to the window and pulled the blinds back a little, just enough to see the street. It was late, and the streetlights were buzzing. Everything looked normal-until it didn't.

A black SUV with dark windows was parked two blocks away, under a broken streetlight. Its lights were off, but I could see the soft smoke from the tailpipe in the cold air. It was running. Just sitting there.

The man from the office. The one who broke into her penthouse. He didn't just know she was hurt. He had followed us. He had watched me carry her into this building.

I looked back at Meredith, sleeping and vulnerable. I'd lied to Miller, I'd ignored a mutated DNA report, and I'd brought a target straight to my front door.

"What the hell have I gotten myself into?" I whispered to the empty room.

The final line of the text flashed in my mind: to collect what's mine.

He wasn't coming for her company. He was coming for her. And he knew exactly where we were. I reached for my gun on the dresser and checked it. It was going to be a long night.

I hadn't slept. I hadn't moved more than a few feet in the last few hours. But I didn't care. Not when Meredith Stevens was lying in front of me, fever burning through her like wildfire and a black SUV waiting outside like a shark in the dark.

She was pale and shivering, her hair stuck to her forehead. But the gold in her eyes, the part that came out when she was scared or hurt, flashed every time she moved.

Around 2:00 AM, Meredith started talking

At first, she was just mumbling. Then she started moving her head back and forth. Her skin was shiny with sweat, but she looked... different. Not like a CEO. She looked like a girl having a really weird dream.

I leaned forward and put a wet, cold cloth on her head.

"No," she whispered, her eyes still closed.

"Too cold. Stop, Dave."

"It's for your fever, Meredith. Stay still," I said, trying to stay calm.

Her eyes shot open. They weren't hazel. They were that bright, honey-gold again. But she didn't look scary this time. She looked... out of it. Like she'd had way too much to drink.

"You have really nice eyes," she said. Her voice was soft and a little loopy. "For a guy who probably eats cereal straight from the box. They're... blue. Like the ocean. I hate the ocean. It's too big. But your eyes are okay."

I felt my face get hot. Is she seriously flirting with me right now?

"You're high on the meds James gave you," I muttered. "Go back to sleep."

Elena came back into the room. She'd been on the phone with someone, judging by the panicked look on her face. She was holding a juice box like it was her only lifeline.

"She's talking about your eyes, Detective?" Elena whispered in a very tight voice. "Oh no. We're so screwed. If she remembers this tomorrow, she's going to move my desk to the basement. Meredith, please stop talking."

Meredith groaned at Elena. "Elena, shut up. You're shaking. Go find a hobby. Or a boyfriend. Not Dave. He's... busy."

"She's just delirious, Elena," I said, not looking away from the gold eyes.

Meredith suddenly grabbed my arm. Her grip was still crazy strong, even though she was lying on her back.

"Elena worries too much," she said, leaning her head toward me like she was sharing a big secret. "She thinks I'm a goddess. I'm not. I'm just... tired, Dave."

Her eyes opened a little. She reached a shaky hand for me and grabbed my wrist. Her grip was weak, but it still said, I'm not helpless.

"Don't leave," she whispered, almost lost in her fever. "You... you're... my safety blanket."

I blinked. Safety blanket? That was new.

Elena groaned softly. "Oh my God... she's delirious. She's actually talking like a teenager."

"She's fine," I said, pressing my hand on hers so she wouldn't twist. "Just... hang in there, okay?"

Meredith's lips curled into a small, playful mischievous smirk. "I... never... had... sex," she said, slow and deliberate, like it was the most important confession in the world.

Elena's hand flew to her mouth. "What? Did she just say what I think she said?"

I coughed awkwardly. "She... she's got a fever. Don't... don't take it seriously."

Meredith laughed-a dry, rough sound that hit me hard. "I'm... lonely, detective. But strong. I'm... Iron... Goddess." She flopped back on the pillow, groaning. "Even when... I'm dying... I'm still... being a pain."

Elena, hovering nervously at the edge of the bed, whispered under her breath. "What kind of drugs did that illegal doctor give her?"

Elena muttered under her breath as she paced. "Is she always like this, or...?"

"She's fine," I said again, my hand still over Meredith's. I wasn't leaving her to fight this alone. Not now. "It's just the fever. She's still in there."

Meredith's eyes opened again, gold for a second. She made a low sound, like a warning. "Don't... leave... me... Elena's... boring... talk to me..."

Elena froze. "Boring? I-I was just trying to help..."

"I said... keep talking..." Meredith rasped. "Tell... stories... detective... I... I like your voice."

I gave a tired chuckle. "Fine. You want boring? I can do boring. Did I ever tell you about the time I almost set the evidence locker on fire back in training?"

Meredith let out a small laugh. "Bad... detective," she teased. "You... you'd be lost... without me..."

"Yeah, probably," I said, smiling. "But let's focus on you staying alive first, okay?"

Her fingers twitched against mine. "You... have nice... hands," she murmured. "Hold me... don't... let go..."

I stayed close, careful not to let her move too much or hurt herself. She was all over the place-joking, honest, soft, then sharp again. But underneath it, I could see her. Not the Iron Goddess. Just a girl. Tired. Lonely. Still fighting.

Elena hovered nearby, nervous. Every time Meredith moved, Elena held her breath. "I... I can't believe she said that," she whispered.

"She's delirious," I said softly. "It's the fever. Just let her talk. It helps."

Meredith rolled her eyes, or tried to. "You're... too serious... detective... relax... life's short..."

I laughed quietly and leaned closer. "I'll relax when you're not burning up and flirting at the same time."

She smiled a little. "Fair... enough..."

After a while, the gold faded from her eyes. The sounds stopped. Her hands loosened in mine. She slipped into a light, shaky sleep.

I stayed there, my hand on her arm, feeling her breathe. Fever or not, she'd let something real show. And it made one thing clear.

The Iron Goddess wasn't just a boss or a legend.

She was just a girl.

Strong, stubborn and very human.

Elena peeked in from the doorway. "You... you actually handled her," she whispered. "And she... said some things..."

I looked down at Meredith and shook my head. "She's fine. And she's sharp. Even like this, she's still herself."

Elena let out a shaky breath. "Okay... I guess that counts as... bonding?"

I gave a small smirk. "Yeah. Bonding. Now let's hope she sleeps long enough to make it."

DAVE 

The sun was already up, and it felt personal. The light pushed through my dusty blinds, way too bright, like it was calling me out for still being awake. It landed right on the bloody bandages in the trash, making the whole place look messed up, like some low-budget horror movie I never asked to be in.

Meredith was finally asleep. The gold in her eyes was gone, replaced by the worn-out look of someone who had been through hell. She was sleeping in my bed, under my old blue comforter, looking too small for a woman who ran a billion-dollar company.

Elena was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and staring at a cup of coffee like it was the only thing holding her together. She looked completely wrecked. Her expensive blouse was wrinkled, her hair was everywhere, and that calm, professional assistant look was gone.

I felt just as bad. Like a walking corpse. My shoulder still hurt where Meredith had grabbed me during the whole "surgery" mess, and my head was full of half-remembered images-gold eyes, metal, blood. I dragged myself into the kitchen, mostly just looking for water to shock myself awake. I didn't even think as I left my laptop open on the counter.

Big mistake.

I was drying my face with a paper towel, listening to the faucet drip, when I heard Elena gasp. It was small, sharp, and it made the hair on my neck stand up.

"Dave... what the hell is this?"

I froze. Slowly, I turned, paper towel still in my hand, and my stomach sank. Elena was staring at the laptop screen. She was looking at the lab report I'd been obsessing over since it was sent to me.

The word MUTATED was glowing in the center of the screen in big, ugly letters. Right next to it was a stamp: RESTRICTED CIRCULATION / PENDING SUPERVISOR REVIEW.

"Elena, don't. Close it," I said, reaching for the laptop.

She pushed my hand away, her eyes wide and scared. "Is she sick? For God's sake, Dave, is this why she was growling? Is this some kind of virus? Are we... are we going to catch this too? Are you kidding me right now?"

"It's not a virus," I said, keeping my voice low and trying to sound in control. "And she's not dangerous. She's just... different. Her body is reacting to the silver, Elena. That's it."

"The report says mutated, Dave! It says anomaly!" Elena was shaking so much she almost dropped her coffee. "You're a detective. You're supposed to report this. Why are we hiding in your apartment with my boss whose DNA looks like a sci‑fi movie? We're going to jail!"

I peeked through the bedroom door at Meredith. She was buried under my old blue comforter, looking tiny and pale. She didn't look like the "Iron Goddess." She looked like a girl who was hurting.

"Because if I report it, she's gone," I said, and the way my voice came out shocked even me. "They'll take her somewhere locked down. A high-security lab, Elena. They won't treat her like a CEO.They'll see a problem. Something to study. I'm not letting that happen to her."

I grabbed the laptop and snapped it shut. I knew how things worked. It was Saturday, January 3rd. Nobody important was checking anything today. The auditor wouldn't even touch the system until Monday. That gave me time.

I pulled out my phone and switched on Airplane Mode. No calls or messages.

"Look, Elena," I said, rubbing my face with both hands. I felt exhausted down to my bones. "It's the weekend. Go home. Get some real sleep. Change your clothes. I've got her here. I'll call you if anything changes."

Elena crossed her arms. "Are you serious right now? I'm not leaving her alone with you."

"I'm a cop, Elena," I said. "Not some psycho or serial killer."

"You're still a guy," she shot back. "A guy she barely knows. And she's passed out and... whatever that report says she is. I'm her PA. I actually know her. I'm staying. It's Saturday. I don't have anywhere to be, and I don't trust you to handle this alone."

"You're going to hate that couch," I warned.

"I've spent three years working for Meredith Stevens," she said, sitting down on my lumpy sofa. "I can deal with a little discomfort. Now go make some more coffee before I pass out."

I sighed but didn't argue. Having her here was actually kind of a relief. It made things feel a little more normal-like we were just two people taking care of a sick friend, not fugitives hiding some science experiment.

I walked over to the window and pulled the blinds back just a little, my hand resting on my gun out of habit. I half-expected to see that same black SUV sitting there, quiet and patient, like it had all the time in the world.

The street was empty.

The spot under the broken streetlight was clear. No car. No dark windows. No engine running. Just a stray cat tearing into a trash bag like it owned the place. I let out a long, shaky breath I didn't even realize I'd been holding.

What the hell, Callahan? I thought, rubbing my eyes until they burned. You're seriously losing it.

It was probably nothing. Just some random guy visiting someone in the building. I'd spent the last six hours jumping at shadows, spiraling over a car that was probably just trying to find parking. I felt stupid. Exhausted. Wired in that bad way where your body won't calm down even when it should.

"He's gone," I whispered to myself. "I'm really out here panicking over a parked car."

I sat back down in the chair by the bed, keeping an eye on Meredith. She was breathing easier now. I started to relax a little. The SUV was gone, the report was stuck in some system queue, and it was a quiet Saturday morning in Queens. Maybe I could actually grab an hour of sleep.

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes for just a second.

THUD. THUD. THUD.

I almost fell out of the chair. Someone was slamming on my front door, real pounding. Hard, steady hits that made it sound like the door might actually come off the frame.

"Dave! Open up! I know you're in there, you lazy bastard!"

My blood went cold. I knew that voice.

"Oh, for God's sake," I whispered.

"Who is that?" Elena whispered, standing up from the couch, eyes wide.

"It's Miller," I whispered back, my heart hammering. "My partner from the precinct."

"Your partner? Why is he here? Did he see the report?"

"No, no..." I glanced at the calendar on the wall and realized what I'd forgotten. "It's my birthday."

"What?" Elena stared at me like I was insane.

"I forgot," I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair. "He does this every year. Shows up with food and beer like it's a tradition or something. He's not going anywhere. If I don't open that door, he'll assume I'm dead and call the fire department to bust it down. He's that stupid."

THUD. THUD. THUD.

"Callahan! Open up!" Miller yelled from the hallway. "I brought the good donuts, and I'm not eating them alone! Don't make me use my spare key!"

I looked at the bedroom door where Meredith was sleeping. If Miller came inside, he'd see everything. The most famous CEO in New York laid out in my bed. The blood. The mess. And if she woke up... those gold eyes.

"Go," I whispered to Elena, pointing at the bedroom. "Stay in there. Don't make a sound. If he hears anything weird, we're done."

Her eyes went wide, but she nodded fast, slipped into the bedroom, and closed the door as quietly as she could.

I stood there for a second, heart racing, then walked to the front door. My hands were shaking. I wiped my face, rubbed my eyes like I'd just rolled out of bed, and pulled the door open just a little.

Miller was standing there, a big, annoying smile on his face, holding a greasy paper bag and a six-pack.

"Happy thirty-third, Dave!" he yelled, trying to shove past me. "Why the hell is your phone off? I've been calling for an hour. I thought you died of old age."

"Miller, hey... now's really not a good time," I said, blocking the doorway with my body.

His grin faded a little. He sniffed the air and squinted into the apartment.

"Is that... antiseptic? And why do you look like you just got run through a meat grinder?"

Before I could stop him, he shoved the door and stepped inside. He froze in the middle of my tiny living room. He looked around slowly, then at me, a suspicious smirk creeping onto his face.

"Wait a second," Miller said, his grin coming back. "You've got a girl in here, don't you? Dave Callahan finally got lucky?"

"Miller, just listen-"

"Oh, I have to see who finally broke the curse," he laughed, already moving toward the bedroom. "Is she cute? Does she have a sister?"

"Miller, don't," I said, panic shooting straight up my spine as I reached for his arm.

Too late.

His hand was already on the door handle.