The Weight of Survival      

"Michael, it's fine. Just do whatever you can," I snapped, trying to pull him out from his negative thoughts. "Did you tell Sinclair?"

"Of course I told him!" His voice dropped lower, eyes darting back toward the old man who was still by the table, frozen in despair. "I told him this would be our first live test on a dog. I explained that we don't know how it'll react, that every animal responds differently. We've tested smaller animals but—"

"Yes, yes, I get it!" I waved him off, irritation bubbling to the surface. "Just make sure the dog lives, okay? I don't care about the science. That's your department, not mine."

I wasn't interested in the technicalities or the risks. The bottom line was simple: if Sebastian died, so did my chance of getting out of this hellhole.

Michael hesitated, clearly torn between his duty as a engineer and the reality of the situation. I had to hand it to him—the man had guts.