Suggest her to sit down on couch . Then prepare injection with compound.

I gesture toward the living room as I carefully lift the vial from the counter. "Why don't you sit down on the couch? This will only take a minute to prepare."

Lina nods, her movements stiff as she retreats to the living room. The coffee machine continues its quiet gurgling behind me as I open a drawer, searching for something suitable. In the third drawer, I find what I need—a small medical kit with sealed syringes. Jane was always prepared.

"Found it," I call out, extracting a sterile syringe from its packaging. With practiced hands, I draw the pale blue compound into the barrel, tapping it gently to remove any air bubbles. The liquid catches the morning light filtering through the kitchen window, giving it an almost ethereal quality.

I carry the loaded syringe to where Lina sits perched on the edge of the couch, her posture tense. She watches my approach with wary eyes—Jane's eyes—and I'm struck again by the uncanny resemblance. Not just physical, but the way she tilts her head slightly, the small furrow between her brows when she's anxious.

"This shouldn't hurt much," I say, kneeling beside her. "I'll need to find a vein."

Lina wordlessly extends her arm, pushing up the sleeve of her university t-shirt. The skin of her inner arm is pale and smooth, blue veins visible beneath the surface. I swab the area with an **** pad from the kit, my fingers brushing against her warm skin.

"So what's the plan?" she asks, her voice deliberately casual as I prepare to inject her. "Once this stuff is in me, I mean."

"We need to take down Marco," I reply, gently pressing my thumb against the crook of her elbow to make the vein more prominent. "But we have to be smart about it. What's the next hideout location? Do you know?"

She winces slightly as the needle pierces her skin. I push the plunger slowly, watching the blue liquid disappear into her bloodstream.

"Basement at 47 Willow Lane," she says through gritted teeth. "That's where Viktor was operating from when they caught me."

I withdraw the needle and press a cotton ball to the tiny puncture. "Hold this," I instruct, and she complies, pressing her fingers where mine had been.

"How soon can you transform again?" I ask, disposing of the syringe in the small sharps container from the medical kit.

"Supposed to be six hours minimum after teleportation," she replies, rolling her sleeve back down. "So late afternoon, maybe? It's never hit me this hard before. The second jump with all that equipment... it drained me completely."

I nod, considering our options as I return to the kitchen to pour the now-finished coffee into two mugs. "We have to assume Viktor's men found the bodies at Red Brick by now. They'll have my notes on the chemical weapon."

"And they'll be looking for both of us," Lina adds, accepting the mug I offer her. Her fingers brush mine during the exchange, and there's a moment of awkward tension between us—the memory of this morning's intimate awakening hanging unspoken in the air.

"This compound should protect you," I say, sitting beside her on the couch but maintaining a careful distance. "It creates a molecular barrier that prevents the chemical weapon from binding to your diamond form. Even if they replicate my formula, it won't work on you anymore."

"Good," she says, sipping her coffee. She glances at me over the rim of her mug. "I can feel it already—like a warmth spreading through my veins."

I observe her carefully for any adverse reactions. "That's normal. The compound is bonding with your cellular structure."

She sets down her mug and looks directly at me, her expression softening. "Thank you, Sam. For helping me. For... understanding about Jane."

The mention of Jane's name sends a pang through my chest. "We both loved her. In different ways, but still..."

"Yeah," she agrees quietly. "In different ways." She stares into her coffee, her profile achingly familiar. "I still can't believe she never told me about you. We used to tell each other everything."

"She was protecting us both, I think," I reply. "Campus relationships were complicated enough without adding her family into the mix."