Kill to evolve: A system that demands blood
Chapter 50: New dog

Chapter 50: New dog

Chapter 50

A soft beeping echoed in the sterile white room. Steady, rhythmic, like a clock marking time that Karla had long forgotten.

Her eyes twitched beneath their lids, and after a long moment, they finally fluttered open.

The harsh ceiling lights stabbed into her pupils, and she winced, raising an arm that felt like it had been dipped in concrete. Her throat was dry. Her head ached. But she was alive.

Barely.

She shifted slightly, then froze when she noticed the silhouette seated by the far wall. Her vision cleared just enough to make out the broad shoulders, the familiar messy dark hair.

Ronan.

He was slouched in a metal chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as he stared blankly at the floor. He didn’t even look up when she stirred. His face, his expression was devoid of emotion. Cold. Unreadable.

Karla swallowed hard.

"You’re... here," she said weakly.

"I had to make sure you woke up," Ronan replied, voice flat.

A silence stretched between them. Not comforting. Not tense. Just... empty.

Karla blinked slowly, shifting her eyes to the IV drip beside her. "How long?"

"Almost two days."

She exhaled shakily. "I thought I died."

"You almost did."

That answer should’ve come with comfort, or guilt, or something.

But Ronan was... vacant. Not indifferent, it was something else. Like he wasn’t really here.

She tried to sit up, wincing immediately as pain shot through her ribs.

He moved finally, just to press the button for the nurse. Then he stood.

"I’ll leave now."

Karla’s eyes narrowed. "Wait. You’re not going to say anything? Not even sorry?"

Ronan paused. Not because he didn’t hear her. But because he didn’t expect that word.

"Sorry for what?"

Her voice rose, hoarse. "For what happened back there. You lost control—"

"I didn’t."

The room seemed to still at his words.

Karla stared at him. "What?"

"I didn’t lose control," Ronan said again, quieter this time. "That’s what makes this worse, Karla. I knew what I was doing. I just didn’t care."

She stared, lips parted slightly. "That doesn’t sound like you."

"It’s not supposed to. Maybe this system—" He stopped, jaw tightening. Then he looked at her, really looked at her. "You shouldn’t have tried to stop me."

"I was trying to help you."

"Help?" He gave a low laugh, bitter and without mirth. "You almost died helping someone you don’t even understand."

She gritted her teeth. "Don’t talk like that. You’re not some—"

"I’m not a hero, Karla," he cut in, voice sharp. "I never was."

The door opened softly behind him. A nurse stepped in, halting at the tension in the air.

Ronan didn’t glance back. "You’re safe now. That’s what matters."

Karla watched him walk out the door without another word.

Just like that, he was gone.

Her face fell in disappointed, tears stinging her eyes, threatening to spill. "Fuck you Ronan." She muttered.

—

Outside, the corridor felt colder than it should.

Ronan moved like a shadow, unnoticed by the few agents passing by. He was used to this by now: the stares, the silence, the growing whispers that followed him wherever he went.

He’d already been summoned.

Squad One.

General Aldric Kael had sent the official transfer notice earlier that morning. Nathaniel hadn’t said a word to him yet. No explanations. No reassurances.

Just an order.

He was to report to Squad One barracks within the hour.

Ronan wasn’t stupid. He knew what this meant. Squad One didn’t take recruits. They took weapons.

He was being contained.

He clenched his fists.

Wasn’t that what he wanted? To be used for something real? To be pushed? Tested? To matter?

So why did it feel like the walls were closing in on him?

The elevator dinged as he stepped in. No one else joined him.

A moment of quiet. A pause in motion.

Then a voice crackled through the comm clipped to his collar.

"Ronan Vale. Report to Hall Sigma. Squad One initiation begins now."

He didn’t reply.

Didn’t need to.

He was already on his way.

—

Meanwhile, in a surveillance room lined with monitors, Nathaniel stood with arms folded, watching Ronan’s figure through the live feed.

"He didn’t even hesitate," Captain Vira murmured beside him.

"He never does," Nathaniel said quietly.

Aldric’s voice came through the second comm line, low and steady. "We’ll see what he’s made of soon enough."

Nathaniel’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. "Just make sure you don’t break him before we understand what he’s becoming."

"That’s your mistake, Nathaniel," Aldric said. "You keep trying to understand a storm."

The line went dead.

Nathaniel exhaled.

Something told him... this was only the beginning.

The Squad One barracks loomed like a prison — a fortress carved deep into the underbelly of the compound, where the floors didn’t shine and the air didn’t move.

Ronan stepped through the reinforced doors and was immediately met by silence.

Then boots.

Three figures waited inside the vast concrete lobby. Not behind desks. Not with clipboards. Just standing. Watching.

One leaned against the wall, chewing gum like this was all beneath her. Short, spiky silver hair. Burn scars snaking down her neck into her collar. Her eyes glinted, one organic, one mechanical.

Another sat on a steel bench with a massive axe leaning across his shoulder, broad as a truck and covered in crimson tattoos. Not decorative, runic. His system was visible in his eyes: they flickered red every few seconds.

The last stood tall and calm, hands in his pockets. A long coat hung off his shoulders like a cape, his face too clean for a place like this. Smiling, even. That was the most unsettling part.

"Fresh meat," the axe-wielder grunted. "Didn’t think you’d be so... scrawny."

Ronan didn’t answer.

The silver-haired woman peeled herself off the wall and sauntered over, eyeing him like a new weapon shipment. "So you’re the one that gutted beat your captain and teammates to a pulp huh. You don’t look crazy."

"I get that a lot," Ronan muttered.

The clean one spoke next, voice smooth as silk. "Don’t mind Roan and Vex. They bark louder than they bite. Usually." He extended a hand. "Ezren. Squad One’s tactician. Welcome to hell."

Ronan ignored the hand. "Where’s the General?"

"Oh, you’ll see him. But first..." Ezren’s smile widened as the doors behind Ronan slammed shut with a hydraulic hiss. "We test the new dog."

Vex cracked her neck. "Let’s see if he can bite."