Romance

  Aurora&#39;s Perspective
  Just as my heart threatened to stutter-stop, my mind conjuring every horror-movie vivisection scene, a heated argument erupted outside the door, voices rising as they approached.
  Eric Milton&#39;s voice, shrill and cracking with outrage: &quot;...You can&#39;t! She&#39;s *my* project! *My* discovery! Her data is unique! Give me more time, just a little, and I&#39;ll have a breakthrough! You can&#39;t just take her!&quot;
  Another voice, calm, steady, carrying unshakeable authority. I couldn&#39;t make out the words, but the tone was overwhelming.
  &quot;No! You don&#39;t understand! She&#39;s art! She&#39;s science! You brutish thugs swinging your fists have no concept of her value!&quot; Milton was shrieking now, pure frenzy and defeat.
  Then, more footsteps. Heavy, synchronized boots, moving fast.
  *BANG!*
  The room&#39;s heavy, sealed door flew open

  Aurora&#39;s Perspective
  When the wheelchair passed through the final airlock door and emerged from the building disguised as an ordinary industrial park warehouse, the sudden influx of light made me squeeze my eyes shut.
  It wasn’t the harsh, unforgiving fluorescent glare of the lab. It was sunlight. Afternoon light, warm and golden. It bled through my closed eyelids, painting the world a warm, glowing orange.
  Next came the air. *Oh God, air!* Not the chilled, metallic, sterile taste of the recycling system. Real, outdoor, moving air. It carried the scent of sun-warmed asphalt, of freshly cut grass from a distant lawn, even a faint oily tang of exhaust—smells I usually rolled my eyes at, but which now smelled like heaven.
  I opened my eyes wide, gulping in huge breaths. The cool air, warmed by the sun, hit my lungs and made me cough, but a huge, almost idiotic grin spread across

  Aurora&#39;s Perspective
  Darkness.
  A thick, viscous dark, cloying with a chemical sweetness.
  My head felt like it had been stuffed into a rusty blender—a dull, throbbing ache radiating from the base of my skull, a persistent buzzing filling the void. Consciousness was a weight, dragging me down into murky water, something pulling me deeper just as I tried to surface.
  Groggy. Muffled sounds, as if through layers of heavy blankets.
  The steady beep of machinery? And… voices?
  I fought to open my eyes. My eyelids were slabs of lead.
  Light—harsh, blinding white—needled into the sliver of vision I managed.
  A shape moved into view. Lab coat. Glasses. Eric Milton.
  That bastard. That lying, treacherous son of a bitch.
  His face loomed close. I could smell him—the sharp tang of disinfectant, stale Americano, and beneath it, the nauseating, sweaty scent of a fanatic&#39;s excite

Aurora&#39;s Perspective
  Just as my heart threatened to stutter-stop, my mind conjuring every horror-movie vivisection scene, a heated argument erupted outside the door, voices rising as they approached.
  Eric Milton&#39;s voice, shrill and cracking with outrage: &quot;...You can&#39;t! She&#39;s *my* project! *My* discovery! Her data is unique! Give me more time, just a little, and I&#39;ll have a breakthrough! You can&#39;t just take her!&quot;
  Another voice, calm, steady, carrying unshakeable authority. I couldn&#39;t make out the words, but the tone was overwhelming.
  &quot;No! You don&#39;t understand! She&#39;s art! She&#39;s science! You brutish thugs swinging your fists have no concept of her value!&quot; Milton was shrieking now, pure frenzy and defeat.
  Then, more footsteps. Heavy, synchronized boots, moving fast.
  *BANG!*
  The room&#39;s heavy, sealed door flew open, slamming against the wall.
  I strained my eyes, catching a glimpse in my peripheral vision.

Chapter 260