Chapter 28

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

PLAGUE

T he sterile white corridors burn my eyes. Without my mask's amber lenses, the harsh fluorescent lights stab into my retinas like needles. I blink rapidly, fighting the urge to shield my face. Can't risk drawing attention.

Not now.

Thane and Whiskey flank me. They're unmasked, too, and with their stolen Vrissian uniforms, it's a perfect disguise. Well, almost perfect. Whiskey's trigger finger twitches toward his concealed weapon with every echoing footstep, his jaw set in a hard line. I shoot him a warning glance. One wrong move, one slip of his atrocious fake accent, and we're fucked. He knows not to even speak, let alone throw a tantrum.

My stolen lab coat feels wrong against my skin. Too light. Too exposed. I miss the weight of my tactical gear, the familiar sterile scent of the filters in my mask.

But none of that matters right now.

I catalog every detail as we round another corner. Security camera in the upper left corner, blind spot directly beneath it. Keycard access panel on the third door down. Potential weak point in the ventilation shaft above. My mind races, piecing together escape routes, mapping this labyrinth of white and chrome.

A pair of guards pass us, and I nod curtly. Keep moving. Don't engage. Thane's jaw clenches so tight I can almost hear his teeth grinding. I know what he's thinking. Somewhere in this godforsaken place, they're holding Ivy. And Wraith.

And that psychotic fuck, Valek.

The thought of Valek makes my blood boil. That sadistic, backstabbing bastard. We knew not to trust him, but kidnapping Ivy is nothing short of insane. If I gain access to him, there's no telling what I'll do. I like to think I wouldn't torture him to death whether he gives me answers or not, but I'm a different person with a scalpel in hand.

The thought of what I'd do to him, how I'd expose every nerve ending until his throat bleeds from screaming, sends a rush of adrenaline through my veins. My fingers twitch, muscle memory recalling the precise grip needed for the most exquisite cuts.

I push the violent urge down.

Focus.

A scientist in a crisp white coat rounds the corner, his nose buried in a tablet. I tense, ready to neutralize the threat, but he brushes past without a second glance. These bastards are so used to their own superiority, they don't even bother to look up.

Their arrogance will be their downfall.

As we continue our cautious progress through the facility, snippets of overheard conversations echo in my mind. Pieces of a puzzle I've been assembling since we arrived. Whispered words about "two reclaimed assets" and "escaped experiments from the Vytoskyk lab."

It's becoming increasingly clear that both alphas share a dark history with this place. The truth is taking shape, and it's more horrific than I'd imagined.

I glance at Thane, wondering if he's put it together yet. Does he know the full extent of his brother's suffering? Of the horrors that shaped him into the feral beast we know?

There's no time to dwell on it now. We have a mission to complete. But I can't shake the feeling that we're walking into something far darker and more complex than a simple rescue operation.

The truth about Valek and Wraith's origins is a weapon in itself. One we might need to use before this is over.

A flash of movement catches my eye. A beta lab assistant in a pristine lab coat, her blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun that tightens her features.

Perfect.

I clear my throat, adopting the clipped consonants of a Vrissian accent. Unlike Whiskey's, my accent is actually believable. "Excuse me."

She halts, turning to face us. "Yes?"

"I've just arrived on orders from command to examine the two rogue assets you have in your possession," I explain. "Where might I find them?"

Her eyes narrow, but there's no suspicion in her gaze. Just the bored irritation of someone interrupted on their way to more important matters. "They're in high-security containment. Level B3. "

I nod, as if this information is precisely what I expected. "Excellent. Lead the way."

She sighs, clearly annoyed but unwilling to refuse a superior. "Follow me."

As we trail behind her, I study the layout. More cameras. More locked doors. But also more potential exits. If we can get to B3, we'll be close to both our targets and the lower levels. Easier to disappear.

The beta's heels click as she leads us to an elevator, swiping her keycard. The elevator descends, each floor taking us deeper into the bowels of this sterile hellhole. When the doors open, the corridors are darker, the air heavy with the scent of antiseptic and something else.

Fear.

My skin crawls beneath the stolen lab coat, but I keep my face impassive. Years of practice and experience in the field have taught me to bury my emotions deep, to present nothing but cold calculation to the world.

But these familiar scents remind me of a different time.

I was younger then, idealistic. Fresh out of medical school with dreams of saving lives on the battlefield. Dreams of becoming a combat medic. There was a noble ring to the term. I'd envisioned myself as a beacon of hope in the chaos of war, saving wounded soldiers and sending them home to their families.

Reality, as it often does, had other plans.

The prisoner's face swims into focus, unbidden. A kid, really. Barely old enough to shave, let alone fight in a war. His eyes were wild with pain and fear as they wheeled him into the makeshift operating room. I remember the sickening lurch in my stomach as I saw the extent of his injuries.

Burns. Lacerations. Broken bones that had been set wrong, then re-broken. All hallmarks of prolonged, systematic torture in captivity behind enemy lines.

I'd known, intellectually, that war was hell. That atrocities happened. But seeing the evidence carved into that boy's flesh... it changed something in me.

My hands didn't shake as I worked to save him. They were steady, precise. I poured every ounce of skill and determination into putting him back together. Hour after agonizing hour, I fought against the damage inflicted by cruel men who saw him as worthless.

In the end, it wasn't enough.

He died on my table, his battered body finally giving out. As I stared at his lifeless form, something inside me hardened. Calcified. The world I'd stepped into didn't need another healer. It needed warriors who could stop monsters like the ones who'd broken this boy.

And it turned out I had a talent for killing.

The transition wasn't immediate, but it was inevitable. My medical knowledge became a weapon. I knew exactly where to cut to inflict the most lethal wounds, the most excruciating pain. The human body held no mysteries for me. Only vulnerabilities to exploit.

I'd expected to feel... something. Guilt, perhaps. Revulsion at taking lives. Instead, there was only a cold satisfaction. Each kill meant there was one less monster in the world.

Of course, I've become one myself, haven't I?

"We're here."

The beta's voice snaps me back to the present.

The corridor stretches before us, a gauntlet of thick glass windows showcasing the facility's "assets." Prisoners in gray uniforms pace their cells like caged animals, their eyes wild and unfocused. Each bears a stark ID number painted in white across their chest, a final indignity. Even their names have been stripped away.

Then a familiar scent cuts through the antiseptic haze.

Honeysuckle.

Ivy .

My nostrils flare, drinking it in. She's close. But where?

The beta's voice fades to white noise as I scan the row of cells. My gaze locks onto an empty one, its door painted with a bright red omega symbol. The paint is glossy and fresh. Ivy's scent lingers here, but she's gone.

Fuck.

A low growl builds in Whiskey's chest. I shoot him a glare that could melt steel before he can open his big mouth. He curls his lip at me but keeps quiet. He can be pissed off all he likes. We'll settle it later.

When we have our omega back.

A flash of movement across the hall catches my eye.

My breath catches in my throat as I spot an enormous figure chained to the wall of the cell opposite the door with the omega symbol. This beast is even larger and more monstrous than Wraith. An iron mask covers its face, featureless except for two holes glowing with eerie blue light as it stares intensely at us. Its right arm is a nightmarish fusion of metal and flesh, ending in a massive gauntlet with razor-sharp talons. Iron rods jut from its back.

The creature's chest heaves with each labored breath, straining against the thick chains that bind it. Despite its obvious suffering, there's an aura of raw power emanating from the beast that makes my skin crawl.

That monstrous creature could be our ace in the hole. And judging from the dark glint in Thane's eyes, he's having the same idea.

If we could somehow release it, the destruction it would wreak would be catastrophic. Alarms blaring, panicked scientists fleeing, guards scrambling to contain the chaos. In the mayhem, we could slip away with Ivy, leaving this hellhole a smoldering ruin behind us.

It's tempting. So fucking tempting.

As we pass a security station, I notice a rack of temporary keycards hanging on the wall. These cocky fucks really do make it too easy sometimes.

I snag one, draping it around my neck. We might need it later. The beta escorting us doesn't even notice. Of course she doesn't. Her head is stuffed up her own ass just like the rest of the fuckers that work here .

"Here's the first rogue asset," the beta says, stopping at the end of the hall and gesturing to a cell. "But as you can see, it's a far cry from what the soldiers encountered out there. It doesn't move much."

I may not be the biggest fan of Wraith, but my heart sinks at the sight of him chained to the wall like an animal. His massive frame is slumped, diminished with defeat, his muscular arms spread above his head. The sheer number of chains and shackles seem unnecessary, considering his state. His damp black hair hangs forward, obscuring his face, and other than the steady rise and fall of his broad chest, he isn't moving. Certainly isn't responding to the world around him. A dangerous amount of blood blooms through the side of his gray uniform, painted with an ID number. 0663.

Is he even alive?

I've never seen him so… broken.

Thane's Adam's apple bobs, but his face remains a mask of cold indifference. Good. We can't afford to break character now.

But even I wish I could offer some small comfort to let Wraith know we're here. But no. It's better he doesn't know. Better he can't give us away, even unintentionally .

A familiar manic laugh echoes down the corridor, making the beta jolt visibly. Valek. His shouting echoes off the sterile walls, edged with that distinctive Vrissian accent. Sounds like our resident psychopath is having the time of his life.

No surprise there.

"Thank you. You are dismissed," I say to the beta, who looks like she'd rather be anywhere but here anyway.

She gives me a curt nod. "I'll leave you to your work," she says in a tight voice, wasting no time walking briskly back up the hall before I can change my mind.

"Excuse me, Doctor?"

I turn, coming face to face with another white-coated scientist. His brow furrows as he studies me. "I believe we haven't met. Are you new to the facility?"

I slip into character, adopting the clipped tones of a Vrissian accent. "I am. I came as soon as I heard you brought in two rogue assets from the Vytoskyk lab. It's the perfect opportunity to examine how years of being on the run can affect our assets' physiology."

The scientist's eyes narrow. "I see. And your keycard? "

Shit. He noticed.

I jerk my head toward Whiskey, letting disdain drip from my words. "This idiot managed to bend it. They always send us the most utterly useless barbarians as guards, don't they?"

The scientist's face softens with understanding. He nods, commiserating. "Ah, yes. The quality of personnel has certainly… declined. It's a constant struggle."

A low growl rumbles in Whiskey's chest.

"Down, boy," I say to him. "Or I'll have you neutered."

Whiskey's eyes flash with irritation, but he keeps his mouth shut. Smart move.

The scientist chuckles, clearly enjoying the show of dominance. "Well, I won't keep you. The assets are in high-security containment. You'll need a higher clearance than either of us have to open any of these doors."

I cock an eyebrow. "We are doctors," I say incredulously.

"Yes, well, considering one of the rogue assets was responsible for the total destruction of the Vytoskyk lab, command is taking no chances," he replies stoically.

I nod, my mind already racing. We'll need to find a way around that. "Thank you for your assistance. I'll be sure to include your name in my report to command. Doctor...?"

"Kolavev," he supplies, preening at the implied praise.

"Dr. Kolavev," I repeat, committing the name to memory. It might prove useful later. "I appreciate your professionalism."

As he walks away, I take a deep breath. We're one step closer to our goal. But the real challenge is just beginning. Somewhere in this labyrinth of pain and suffering, Ivy is waiting. And we're going to find her.

No matter the cost.