Chapter 408 The Tipping Point

Wyatt quickly pulled his protective suit back on.

Owen shoved Yunice aside with all his strength and rushed to him. “Is Elsie still alive?!”

Yunice stumbled back. In that moment, a flash of something on Owen’s arm caught her eye.

Small red dots.

Her expression changed instantly.

She spun around to see Owen reaching for Wyatt. Wyatt frowned, ready to push him back, but Yunice leapt between them, throwing herself in the way.

“Owen, Elsie is alive!” she shouted. “But if you keep this up, don’t blame us for taking it out on her!”

Owen froze, just enough hesitation to stop him in his tracks.

Yunice turned to Wyatt, frowning. “I told you I’m not leaving, and I won’t. You can’t keep doing this and making things harder for me.”

Wyatt knew this was how it would end. He gave her one last look, then turned and left without another word.

He carried his own burdens–he didn’t have the luxury of being reckless.

As soon as she saw him disappear through the door, Yunice slammed it shut and grabbed Owen. “Come with me.”

Outside, Wyatt paused and looked back at the tightly closed door, brows furrowed.

His radio continued crackling, calling for reassembly. He turned and rejoined the team, leaving the hospital behind.

At the extraction point, Jordan looked him over. “You didn’t bring her?”

If Yunice had given the word, Wyatt would’ve arranged a swap and gotten her out.

But knowing her, he’d suspected she wouldn’t go.

Wyatt’s radio buzzed again–it was Yunice.

“Are you out?” she asked.

He glanced back toward the hospital. “I’m outside.”

“Don’t skip decontamination,” she warned. “You better not.”

Back inside, Yunice was already pulling Owen toward a chair, pressing a thermometer to his forehead.

37.5°C.

Low–grade fever. And those red spots…

Her heart sank.

Still in denial, she grabbed a mercury thermometer and tucked it under his arm.

Owen blinked, slowly coming to his senses. He saw the pallor in Yunice’s face, the tightness in her eyes.

Then he looked at the digital thermometer sitting on the table. The numbers stared back at him like a sentence.

He pulled up his sleeve.

More red dots.

His stomach dropped. The blood drained from his face.

He stared at Yunice, legs shaking.

Yunice looked right back, just as shaken. She, so usually clear–headed and decisive, had no plan this time.

Because there was no plan.

This illness couldn’t be cured.

Before she could speak, Owen shot to his feet. Panic written all over him, he scrambled to pull on gloves, layered masks over his face, and backed away from her.

“I’m infected,” he said hoarsely.

“You have to get out! Now!” he shouted, when she didn’t move.

“Go!”

Snapping out of her daze, Yunice grabbed her unfinished case notes, turned, and walked out.

Bang. The door slammed shut behind her.

Inside, silence fell.

Owen stood frozen, chest heaving. Seconds later, his knees buckled, and he sank to the ground.

Outside, Yunice stood still, eyes shut tightly. Then she pulled up the hospital’s internal line and called Tommy.

“Tommy… Owen is a suspected case. Report it.”

A few minutes later, two med staff in full suits escorted Owen out.

His arms were held, and as he passed Yunice, he looked at her with desperation and pleading in his eyes.

“Yunice… the Saunders family is counting on you…”

Right now, a diagnosis meant a death sentence.

Yunice lowered her eyes. She didn’t respond. She wasn’t even sure she’d make it out herself.

As he was pulled further away, Owen shouted, “Yunice! Owen’s leaving now!”

It sounded like a farewell.

Like a final goodbye.

He was taken toward the isolation ward.

Yunice didn’t move.

Tommy placed a hand on her shoulder–a silent gesture of comfort.

But right now, any words would sound hollow. Until a cure was found, survival was just a matter of luck.

Yunice’s eyes turned red with helpless sorrow.

In just a few short weeks, everyone around her had fallen–one by one.

And now, it was someone from her own side.