She’s right. There’s not time to wast

The thought pounded in Erion’s mind, but the truth hit harder than any bullet—it was suicide to go in.

“I’ll call for backup. Just… stay calm,” he said, forcing his voice steady as the device in his hand hummed, its low vibration filling the silence inside the truck.

Before he could blink, Evah flung the door open and vanished into the night.

Erion’s heart jolted. His hand hovered over the double-lock control, frozen in disbelief. What the hell—

“Next time, I’m locking you down!” he shouted, fury breaking loose like a storm. But it was too late. She was already gone, swallowed by the dark.

Cursing under his breath, Erion yanked open the side box and pulled out his weapon. The silver-plated gun gleamed faintly, its custom silencer locking into place with a click—a mark of his rank, and his last resort.

Then he bolted out of the truck.

The gates opened to a wide expanse of farmland. Wind whipped across the grass, carrying the sounds of restless animals. Two buildings stood ahead of him—one lit and alive, the other dull and abandoned.

“Where the hell did you run off to?” he muttered, scanning the shadows.

The lit building screamed danger. He veered toward the warehouse instead. You better be alive.

He slipped inside, moving with a predator’s caution. The dome-shaped structure swallowed him in silence, the only light bleeding through cracks in the roof. The air was thick—animal waste, rusted metal, a stench that clung to his skin. A farm’s mask. But beneath it, he could feel something darker.

His gun rested under his jacket, hidden, his fingers twitching for it with every step.

Doors lined the corridor ahead. He opened them one by one.

The first room flickered with the faint glow of monitors. In the center stood a metal medical bed—polished, waiting. Too clean. Too deliberate.

This is where they do it.

He recalled a report from one of his generals. “Just animal testing, to improve production.” The excuse had been laughable then. Now, standing here, bile rose in his throat. They’d wiped the evidence clean, but not the intent.

“What a ridiculous excuse.” The words burned in his head. His jaw tightened, bitterness souring his mouth. But it wasn’t his jurisdiction. He had no power here. The realization hissed out of him in a frustrated breath.

Jaw tight, Erion moved on. The next door caught his eye—a dim glow bleeding from its window.

He twisted the cold knob, senses sharp, and eased the door open. The room was empty.

But it wasn’t the absence of people that froze him—it was the glow. Rows of tubes shimmered faintly in the dark, liquid-filled glassware pulsing with an eerie light that painted the walls in sickly hues.

So this is what’s been glowing.

He slipped inside, steps soundless, the air heavy with chemicals. Every shadow seemed to press closer, but his eyes stayed fixed on the shelves. He needed proof. Evidence of what they were hiding here.

His gaze locked on a row of small vials, perfectly aligned. Without hesitation, he plucked one free and lifted it toward the faint light. The liquid inside shimmered unnaturally—threaded with tiny, metallic shapes.

His heart stuttered.

Not just a serum. Microchips.

How—?

Before he could think further, a muffled voice cut through the silence, calling his name.

“Erion!”

Evah’s voice cut through the silence. Loud. Too loud.

His pulse spiked. He slipped the vial into his jacket and darted out, tracking the sound. Fifteen meters—damn it, she’s going to get us both killed.

His mind snapped into plans.

Plan A: If cornered, play lost. No ID. No badge of the Order. Just a gun and hope these people were pawns.

Plan B: If he found her—get out. Immediately.

He turned another door handle, slower this time.

The smell hit him first. A foul, metallic stench that clawed at his lungs. His stomach tightened in recognition.

Death.

Rows of shelves lined the room. On one, a gray cloth draped loosely over something. He pulled it back.

One body. Then another. Then another.

The missing person was here—alongside two more, faceless and discarded. Piles of lifeless flesh, left to rot.

Erion’s jaw clenched, his gut twisting. I hope you didn’t open this door. The sight alone would scar her far worse than any wound.

A faint sound cracked the silence.

Instinct screamed through him. He spun, bolting from the room, heart pounding like war drums.

Where is she?