Chapter 4 Conspiracy Unveiled
# Chapter 4: Conspiracy Unveiled
Harley stood in the center of her father's abandoned laboratory, surrounded by shattered glass vials and overturned equipment. The rage that had propelled her through this destruction now settled into a cold, focused anger as she examined the documents spread across the one table she had left intact.
Project α-Ω: Immortality Protocol.
Subject designation: AA-23.
Primary investigator: Alexander Bourn.
Her father's signature, elegant and authoritative, marked the bottom of each page. The same signature that had appeared on her birthday cards, her diplomas, her company appointment letters—now sanctioning something monstrous.
"He knew," she whispered to the empty lab. "He always knew."
The laboratory complex, hidden beneath one of the Bourn family's remote estates, had been built decades ago under the guise of pharmaceutical research. What Harley discovered there was anything but pharmaceutical—it was genetic manipulation on a scale that defied both ethics and law.
She picked up a file labeled "Subject Cultivation: Omega Elite Series." Inside were photographs of embryos, fetuses, and eventually children—all categorized by genetic markers and potential attributes. On page sixteen, a familiar face stared back at her: Austin Armstrong at age ten, his expression solemn beyond his years, a clinical designation tattooed on his wrist temporarily for the photograph: AA-23.
Harley's phone vibrated with an incoming call from her head of security. She ignored it, continuing to piece together the horrifying puzzle before her. Another file detailed "Alpha-Omega Fusion Protocols"—theoretical frameworks for creating human chimeras with both designation characteristics. The ultimate goal: biological immortality through regenerative pheromone exchange.
Her father hadn't just been studying ABO dynamics; he had been engineering them, creating specialized Omegas with enhanced reproductive capabilities and unprecedented pheromone production. Austin wasn't just any Omega—he was designed to be the perfect incubator for the next stage of the experiment.
The realization made her physically ill. Had her own heat been manufactured too? The timing of their encounter, the intensity of her response to him—had any of it been natural?
A noise from the corridor snapped her attention back to the present. Harley quickly gathered the most damning documents and retreated to a concealed exit she'd discovered earlier. Whatever security protocol had been triggered by her intrusion, she couldn't afford to be caught now.
---
Austin paced the confines of his suite, one hand resting protectively on his growing abdomen. Harley had been gone for twenty-three hours—far longer than any previous absence since his "residence" began. The mansion staff brought his meals and medical supplies as usual, but none would answer his questions about their employer's whereabouts.
Something had changed. He could feel it through their bond—a distant turmoil, rage mixed with betrayal. Whatever Harley had discovered was significant enough to disrupt the tenuous equilibrium they'd established.
He moved to the medical monitoring room and activated the ultrasound equipment. The image that appeared on the screen never failed to amaze him—a perfectly formed fetus, now at eighteen weeks, developing at an accelerated rate. According to his calculations, the pregnancy would likely last only thirty weeks instead of the standard forty.
"What are you?" he whispered to the image. "What did they make us for?"
The door to the suite opened abruptly. Harley entered, disheveled and exhausted, her usual polished appearance replaced by something wilder, more dangerous. She carried a thick folder under one arm.
"You knew," she said without preamble, tossing the folder onto the table between them. Photographs and documents spilled out—laboratory records, genetic sequencing charts, and childhood images of Austin himself. "You've known all along."
Austin's expression remained carefully neutral as he examined the scattered evidence of his origins. "Not all along," he corrected quietly. "I discovered it when I was sixteen. A computer error gave me access to my own file at the research facility where I was 'treated' for 'omega hormonal deficiency.'"
"You were engineered," Harley said, her voice tight with controlled fury. "By my father. To be some kind of perfect Omega specimen."
"Yes."
"And our meeting at the clinic—"
"Was deliberate," he admitted, finally looking up to meet her gaze. "I researched you for months. Learned your routines, your triggers. I needed access to pure Bourn genetic material to understand what was happening to me, to others like me."
Harley's laugh was bitter. "So you orchestrated our encounter. You wanted me to mark you."
"I wanted your DNA," Austin clarified. "The marking was... an unforeseen complication. As was this." He gestured to his pregnant belly.
"And the child?"
Austin hesitated, weighing how much to reveal. "The pregnancy shouldn't have been possible. Male Omegas with my genetic profile have a near-zero fertility rate. It was built into our design—we were meant to be research vessels, not parents."
"Yet here we are," Harley said, moving closer to examine the ultrasound image still frozen on the screen. "With a genetically engineered miracle growing inside you."
"Not just any miracle," Austin said carefully. "According to my analysis, this fetus contains genetic markers that exist in neither of our profiles. It's exhibiting characteristics of both Alpha and Omega designations simultaneously—something that should be biologically impossible."
Harley's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that whatever your father was working toward—this chimeric fusion of designations—our child may be the realization of that goal." Austin's clinical tone belied the emotional weight of his words. "A perfect alpha-omega hybrid."
The silence that followed was heavy with implication. Finally, Harley spoke, her voice uncharacteristically subdued.
"My father disappeared three years ago. The official story was a yachting accident in the Mediterranean. No body was ever recovered." She moved to the window, staring out at the manicured grounds. "Now I understand why. Whatever he started, whatever he created—it wasn't finished. And someone didn't want him to complete it."
Austin watched her carefully, recognizing the shift in her demeanor. The entitled Alpha who had imprisoned him was being replaced by someone more complex—someone grappling with betrayal and manipulation on a scale that matched his own experience.
"There's more," he said, deciding to risk full disclosure. "The facility where I was raised—it wasn't the only one. There were dozens of us, all coded with different genetic variations. I've spent years tracking the others. Most have died under suspicious circumstances. Organ failure. Rare cancers. Sudden pheromone collapse."
"And you?"
"I've survived longer than most, but not without symptoms. Chronic pain. Accelerated cell deterioration." He paused. "Until the marking. Since then, my condition has stabilized."
Harley turned to face him fully. "Are you saying my mark is keeping you alive?"
"Your pheromones appear to be counteracting the genetic degradation programmed into my cells. It's why I needed your DNA initially—to develop a treatment protocol." Austin hesitated, then added, "What I didn't anticipate was that a pregnancy would create an even more effective stabilizing mechanism."
The implications hung between them—their biological codependence now extended beyond the marking bond, beyond the shared sensations of pregnancy. Her existence was literally sustaining his.
Harley's phone chimed with an alert. She checked it, her expression darkening. "My security team has detected unusual activity in the mansion's network. Someone's accessing our files remotely."
Before Austin could respond, his own phone—the restricted device Harley had provided for medical research—lit up with an incoming message from an encrypted source. He opened it to find a single file: a comprehensive genetic analysis of their unborn child.
The report's conclusion was highlighted in urgent red text: "Fatal chromosomal instability detected. Projected viability: 90 days post-birth maximum."
Austin's carefully maintained composure cracked. He sank into the nearest chair, the phone slipping from his suddenly numb fingers.
Harley moved swiftly to retrieve it, her eyes scanning the document. "Is this accurate?" she demanded.
"I don't know," Austin admitted, his voice hollow. "I haven't been able to run this level of analysis with the equipment here."
Harley's security chief appeared at the door, his expression grave. "Ms. Bourn, we have a breach. The east wing security systems have been compromised."
"Secure the perimeter," she ordered. "No one enters or leaves without my direct authorization."
As the security chief departed, Harley turned back to Austin, who remained unnaturally still, his eyes fixed on the ultrasound screen where their child's heart beat a steady rhythm—a heart that, according to the report, was genetically programmed to fail.
"We need to move you," Harley said, already gathering essential items from around the suite. "This location is compromised."
Austin looked up, his clinical detachment reasserting itself. "If someone has accessed this level of genetic data on our child, they already know everything about us. There is nowhere to hide."
"I'm not suggesting we hide," Harley replied, her Alpha presence filling the room with sudden intensity. "I'm suggesting we fight."
She extended her hand to help him up, an offer rather than a command. After a moment's hesitation, Austin accepted it, feeling the strength in her grip—the same strength that had once forced him into submission now offered in partnership.
As they prepared to leave, Austin paused by the desk to collect one final item—a journal he had maintained throughout his captivity. He slipped it into Harley's bag when she wasn't looking, a contingency plan should they be separated.
The mansion's alarm system activated as they reached the garage, red emergency lights bathing the corridor in an ominous glow. Harley's security team surrounded them, creating a protective formation as they moved toward an armored vehicle.
"Where are we going?" Austin asked as Harley helped him into the backseat.
"Somewhere my father never knew about," she answered, sliding in beside him. "Somewhere not even on Bourn family records."
As the vehicle pulled away from the mansion, Austin felt a flutter of movement from the child within—a response to his elevated stress hormones. Simultaneously, he noticed Harley press a hand to her own abdomen, experiencing the echo of that movement through their bond.
Their eyes met in silent acknowledgment of what remained unspoken between them: whatever the truth about their origins, whatever forces had manipulated their meeting, the life they had created together was now the center of a storm neither had anticipated.
In the chaos of their escape, neither noticed the small drone that detached from the mansion's roof, tracking their vehicle as it disappeared into the night. Nor did they see the figure watching from a distant hilltop, speaking quietly into a communication device:
"Target package in transit. Omega carrier and alpha progenitor moving together. Project Immortality assets are secured."
