CHAPTER 393: CHAPTER 393: COMPOUND 47 – TRIAL BATCH E.

Windstone hesitated, the pause intentional, as if he were still testing the reliability of the information. "According to the Duchess... partially. Count Velloran claims he began breaking through the conditioning after Benedict’s disappearance, but the process has been... erratic. He describes episodes of disorientation, gaps in memory, and something he calls ghost triggers, instinctive reactions to commands he no longer hears."

Trevor’s brow furrowed slightly, the faintest sign of unease. "Residual pheromonal influence."

"Precisely," Windstone said. "The Duchess had her physicians examine him. The results show biochemical markers consistent with forced neural imprinting. It appears Benedict’s pheromones can override an individual’s mental pathways and not merely compel behavior but rewrite the response to scent-based stimuli."

Trevor exhaled slowly, walking toward the wide window, his reflection cutting a dark line against the pale sky. "So even when the source is gone, the pattern remains."

"Yes, my lord," Windstone said. "And that is why the Count came forward. He believes Benedict can still access him through residual bonding traces. He says he can feel him when he’s close."

Trevor turned then, the sharp focus returning to his eyes. "Where is Velloran now?"

"With Duchess D’Argente’s envoy, under guard," Windstone said. "He’s requested to meet you in person, but the Duchess wanted your approval before allowing any direct contact."

Trevor didn’t answer immediately. His gaze moved to the digital map still hovering on his desk, the pulse of red zones marking surveillance points, and the glowing threads that represented data streams.

He pressed a button on the console. "Get me the Duchess. Secure line."

Windstone stepped aside as the comm system engaged, the imperial encryption symbol flashing once before resolving into Serathine’s calm, composed face. Her background was her study, polished wood, soft lamplight, and a half-finished cup of tea. Even through the screen, she looked weary.

"Marquis Fitzgeralt," she greeted, her tone smooth but heavy. "I expected your call. You could be fasted as my son in law."

"Sure, harpy. Now... Is he really reliable?"

Serathine’s lips curved faintly, that sharp, amused look she wore whenever he used that particular name for her. "I see married life hasn’t dulled your tongue," she said dryly. "And yes, I believe he’s telling the truth. For once, the Count looks more terrified than deceitful."

Trevor leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming once against the desk. "He should be terrified. He was part of a chain that nearly destroyed Lucas. You wouldn’t fault me for wanting to confirm the extent of his freedom myself."

"I wouldn’t," Serathine said, her tone gentler now. "But, Trevor... he brought something with him. Something you’ll want to see before you make up your mind."

That pulled his attention fully. "What is it?"

She reached off-screen, retrieving a slim metal container and holding it close to the camera. A small glass vial sat inside, half-filled with a faintly iridescent liquid that caught the lamplight like mercury. The label was yellowed and handwritten: Compound 47 – Trial Batch E.

Trevor’s expression went still. "Where did he get that?"

"From the last location Benedict and his followers were. Rohan, an isolated villa, was where Velloran was kept and tortured while Benedict tried to use Velloran’s house to get to you and Lucas..."

Serathine’s voice softened, her usual composure touched by the memory. "He said the place was abandoned when he escaped. The guards were dead, either overdosed or drained. The lab was still intact. He found the vial in a containment case in the dormitories. "

Trevor’s gaze darkened. "Compound 47." The words tasted of old history, an unfinished war in chemical form. "That’s Vivienne’s work."

Serathine nodded slowly. "I thought so too. The molecular tag matches her experimental line. It’s identical to the records she filed before you, well, before you ended her work."

Trevor’s jaw flexed. He hadn’t forgotten. Vivienne Leclerc had been brilliant, dangerously so, an omega researcher who’d weaponized empathy and pheromonal response into control mechanisms. He’d shut her program down himself, ordered the labs sealed, and left her paralyzed body in the hospital wing where her mind could rot inside what was left of her.

"She was working on the neural-perception interface project," Trevor said, his voice low. "The one meant to synchronize alpha-omega bonds through scent cues. She claimed it could stabilize feral responses. What she actually built was a system to erase individuality."

"Velloran insists this batch was not intended for stabilization," Serathine replied. "He believes Benedict refined it further, engineered it to amplify his control. He called it the final bridge."

Trevor frowned, eyes narrowing. "Bridge between what?"

"Between will and obedience," Serathine said quietly. "Between awareness and submission."

A moment passed before Trevor spoke again, his voice a fraction colder. "And you believe him."

"I do," she admitted. "He still shows the side effects, the tremors, the scent distortion, and the way his pupils react when he senses strong pheromones nearby. He’s lucid enough to understand what was done to him but fractured enough to relive it in fragments. When I mentioned Vivienne’s name, he almost fainted."

Trevor leaned back in his chair, the faint hum of the console the only sound between them. "Then this confirms it. Benedict continued Vivienne’s work. He took her neural mapping research and built himself a living network."

Serathine nodded grimly. "That’s my fear. If Compound 47 is the same formula, Trial Batch E suggests multiple iterations, and he’s found a way to hardwire pheromonal control into the bloodstream."

Trevor’s gaze flicked toward the holographic file Serathine had transmitted. The vial’s chemical composition was displayed in scrolling code, imperfect and fragmented, but enough to show a pattern he recognized. "The stabilizer enzyme... it’s synthetic. Vivienne tried to create that once. It was meant to bypass natural dominance hierarchies."

"Which would allow a single scent to override every other biological command," Serathine finished.

Trevor’s tone was quiet and dangerous. "If Benedict has perfected that, then no alpha or omega is safe. He could turn anyone into a puppet with enough exposure."

Serathine didn’t look away. "That’s why I called you instead of the Council. You’ve dealt with Vivienne’s legacy before. And you’re the only one who understands how far Benedict will go."

Trevor was silent for a long time. Then, finally, "I want the vial."

"I expected you would." She held up a small datapad. "My courier will bring it to you within the hour. But Trevor... before you decide what to do with it, see the Count. He’s waiting in the containment room. You’ll know if he’s lying."

Trevor rose, sliding the console off. The faint reflection of his face lingered on the darkened glass for a heartbeat before fading. "If he’s telling the truth, I’ll know that too."

Serathine’s tone softened, but only slightly. "He looks worse than when you last saw him. Tread carefully. He’s not your enemy anymore... at least, not entirely."

Trevor’s eyes lifted, calm and lethal. "If he’s free of Benedict’s control, I’ll treat him like a man. If he’s not..."

The Duchess’s voice filled the pause, dry and resigned. "You’ll end it quickly. I’m aware."

Trevor didn’t deny it. "Keep the vial locked under double seal until I arrive. And tell your guards to stand down when I enter. I don’t want anyone near him except me."

"Understood," Serathine said. "Windstone knows the way."

The connection cut with a soft click, leaving the room quiet again.

Trevor exhaled, rolling his cuffs back down and buttoning them with methodical precision. "Windstone," he said without looking up, "we’re leaving in five."

The butler’s reply came without hesitation. "Already ready, my lord."