Chapter 21
TRENT
Another explosion lit the sky as we crested the ridge overlooking the mining facility. It rocked our vehicle, and Flynn had to fight to keep us on the road, his muscles straining as he cranked the wheel.
“Jesus!” We skidded along the shoulder, kicking up gravel, before Flynn righted us. He glared over his shoulder at Rafe. “What was that?”
“Hey, don’t look at me,” Rafe said, holding up his hands. “That was too sloppy for my work.”
Red emergency lights pulsed through the night, turning the sandstone formations into bloody teeth jutting from the earth. Gunfire popped in staccato bursts, muzzle flashes lighting up the main entrance where Bravo team should have been making a quiet infiltration.
So much for covert.
“What the hell happened to stealth?” Flynn muttered and slammed the SUV into park.
“Gage happened,” I replied and grabbed my M4, scanning the chaos below through my tactical scope. Security forces scrambled into defensive positions around the main entrance, and by the looks of them, they were not rent-a-cop amateurs.
Rafe leaned forward from the back seat. “I count at least twelve hostiles at the entrance. Another eight are setting up a perimeter. Those look like ex-military contractors.”
I switched to the team frequency. “Alpha Vigil to Bravo Team. Sitrep.”
Decker’s voice crackled through. “Bravo Dealer to Alpha Vigil. Heavy resistance at south entrance. Lazarus breached northeast side. Lost comms with him six minutes ago.”
That wasn’t good. When Gage went dark, it usually meant the biohacking had taken over. I’d seen what happened when that line got crossed. It wasn’t pretty, and he couldn’t control it.
“Changing approach,” I told Flynn and Rafe. “We use this chaos. Security’s focused on two breach points. We hit them from a third angle, catch them in crossfire.”
Flynn nodded and gave a smile that was all teeth. “I do love a good pincer movement.”
We abandoned the vehicle behind a rock formation and moved on foot, using the natural terrain for cover.
My boots crunched on loose gravel as we approached from the west side, where the old mining equipment still rusted in the yard.
The night air tasted of dust and cordite, the tang of it sharp in my nose.
“Alpha moving to west entrance,” I reported. “Sixty seconds to breach.”
“Copy that,” came Ethan’s voice. “Bravo pushing forward to create diversion.”
Almost on cue, the gunfire at the main entrance intensified. Security teams shouted to each other, their attention drawn to the south. Perfect.
“Now,” I signaled, and we broke cover, sprinting the last twenty yards to a maintenance door half-hidden behind a pile of ore carts.
Rafe made quick work of the lock, his fingers dancing over the electronic keypad, bypassing it with a device Ozzy had designed. The door clicked open with a soft beep.
“I’ve got point,” I said, slipping inside with my weapon raised.
Emergency lights cast everything in an eerie red glow that made the shadows move like living things. We moved fast, clearing corners and checking doorways as we went.
“Getting facility schematics from Oz now,” Flynn murmured. “Main lab complex is two levels down. Security office on this floor, east wing.”
The first contact came at an intersection of corridors. Two guards in tactical gear spun toward us, weapons already rising. I fired twice, catching the first in the chest. He went down hard. Flynn took the second with a clean headshot before the man could radio our position.
“Clear,” Rafe called after checking the bodies. “Damn. They’re Halston.”
The three of us exchanged a glance.
“Fuck,” I said under my breath.
Flynn whistled softly. “If Gage hasn’t already gone berserk, he will when he sees those uniforms.”
“We need to find him and get him the fuck out of here.”
“Roger that,” Flynn and Rafe said at the same time.
We pushed deeper into the facility, the architecture changing around us.
What had started as a utilitarian mining operation gave way to something much more sophisticated.
The floor transitioned to polished concrete.
Climate control systems hummed softly overhead.
Wall-mounted monitors displayed security feeds and data readouts.
“More like a research facility than a mine,” Flynn observed.
“That’s exactly what it is,” I replied, checking another corner before moving forward.
The first test subject we found was strapped to a gurney in what looked like a converted storage room. Middle-aged man, pale as paper, an IV in his arm feeding something cloudy into his veins. His eyes tracked our movement, but there was no recognition there, no awareness.
“Got a civilian,” I reported and checked his vitals. His pulse throbbed weak but steady under my fingers. “Looks like the same setup we saw in the surveillance feeds.”
Flynn covered the door while Rafe cut the restraints. The man didn’t move even after being freed.
“Can’t evacuate him now,” Rafe said. “He needs medical attention first.”
“Tag him for extraction,” I decided, placing a tracker beacon beside the gurney. “Alistair can send a med team once we secure the area.”
We found four more in similar condition in adjacent rooms. All hooked up to IVs, all with the same vacant stare. All wearing regular clothes—jeans, t-shirts, work boots. Ordinary people from Garnett who’d been turned into lab rats.
Each one twisted something tight inside my chest. Every vacantly staring face could have been Evelyn if things had gone differently. Every motionless body could have been Sophia. The thought turned my stomach.
Gunfire erupted ahead, the sharp crack of automatic weapons followed by the duller thud of shotgun blasts. We quickened our pace, moving toward the sound.
“Alpha team, this is Bravo Sly,” Leo’s voice said. “We’ve secured the east wing, but they’re evacuating through some kind of emergency tunnel. Moving to intercept.”
“Copy that,” I responded. “We’re heading for the central lab complex.”
The next corridor opened into a large, open space that had once been the mine’s main processing floor.
Now it housed rows of equipment I recognized from briefings on Innovixus tech.
Neural mapping stations with their distinctive headgear.
Genetic sequencing equipment humming softly along one wall.
Refrigerated storage units with clear doors showing vials of colored liquids—some blue, some amber, some clear as water.
Rafe moved to one of the computer terminals, quickly bypassing the login screen.
“Data packets... clinical trials... success rates...” His eyes widened as he scrolled.
“They’re mapping genetic markers for neural susceptibility.
Looking for people with specific traits that make them more receptive to control. ”
Like Sophia.
He didn’t say it. He didn’t need to. We all knew it.
“And recording everything,” Rafe added grimly. “Building a database of effective control methods sorted by genetic type.”
“Download everything,” I ordered. “Then wipe their systems.”
While Rafe worked on the computers, Flynn and I secured the perimeter. No active threats, but plenty of evidence that people had left in a hurry—coffee cups still half-full, chairs overturned, papers scattered across workstations.
“They knew we were coming,” I said. “Even before Gage breached. They were already packing up.”
Flynn nodded. “Question is, what were they trying to save? And where were they taking it?”
My comm unit crackled to life. Gage’s voice came through, strained and slurred in a way that raised the hair on my neck.
“I have eyes on the lab. Sub-level two. They’re trying to destroy research data and evacuate through emergency tunnels.”
I exchanged a look with Flynn. Gage was riding the edge, the biohacking pushing him toward something dangerous.
“Lazarus, hold position,” I ordered. “We’re on our way.”
“Can’t wait. Primary target is here.” His breathing sounded ragged, uneven. “He’s destroying evidence.”
Damn it. If Gage confronted Langston Winslow in his current state, this could go very badly, very quickly. And if Langston escaped, we’d be right back to square one—Evelyn and Sophia never safe, always looking over their shoulders.
“Change of plans,” I told Flynn and Rafe. “You two finish here. I’m going after Gage before he does something stupid.”
“Bricks—“ Flynn started.
“Not up for debate,” I cut him off. “Get that data and rendezvous with Bravo team at the extraction point.”
I didn’t wait for their response, just headed for the stairwell marked “Sub-Levels.” Gage was a good operator most days, but the biohacking made him unpredictable. And unpredictable got people killed.
The stairs led down into the mountain itself, the walls transitioning from processed stone to natural rock reinforced with steel beams. The temperature dropped a few degrees with each level.
The lighting changed, too—less industrial, more clinical.
By the time I reached Sub-Level 2, it felt like I’d entered a completely different facility.
This wasn’t a retrofitted mine anymore. This was a purpose-built, high-end research space. Climate-controlled rooms with biometric locks. Specialized ventilation systems. The kind of setup that cost millions.
A security door blocked my path, but someone had already dealt with it. The electronic lock was fried, wires exposed and smoking. The heavy door hung open on damaged hinges. Gage’s handiwork, no doubt.
I moved through, weapon ready. The corridor beyond was pristine white, sterile, with doors on either side marked with alphanumeric codes instead of room numbers. Laboratory space, all of it high-end. This was where the real work happened, away from prying eyes.
Voices echoed from somewhere ahead—a man shouting, another responding in measured tones. Langston Winslow. There was no doubt in my mind.