Chapter 13
Con didn’t waste time. He grabbed several folders of research and slipped them under his jacket, along with a flash drive he shoved into his pocket.
He moved through the lab like a man executing an order he’d already given himself.
His movements were fluid, efficient—one hand sweeping clear the clutter on a counter while the other reached for the nearest shelf.
He found the jug of lighter fluid almost immediately—half-empty, labeled in permanent marker—and gave it a quick shake. The liquid sloshed thickly inside.
“Stand back,” he said.
The scent of petroleum filled the room as he began to pour, splashing the clear fluid across the papers and old lab benches.
It glistened in the low light, spreading quickly over the tile.
I followed his lead, grabbing another canister and moving along the opposite side of the room.
Each pour left dark trails that soaked into scattered notes, the vials, the edges of the cot.
The sharp chemical tang mixed with the metallic scent of blood and the cold, sterile reek of antiseptic.
The fire would erase everything.
All the data, all the evidence—every trace of what had been done here.
I looked once more at the whiteboard. The words Integration Protocol were still visible through the streaks of fluid we’d splashed across it, the ink running into warped lines.
My throat tightened, but I didn’t hesitate.
I tipped the can, watching the liquid sheet across the floor beneath it until it dripped from the bottom edge.
Con pulled a matchbook from his jacket and struck it. The spark snapped loud in the silence, a tiny sound swallowed by the enormity of what we were about to do.
He met my eyes once, a silent question in his look—Ready?
I nodded.
He dropped the match.
The fire bloomed instantly—an eager, hungry roar that raced along the fuel, curling up the table legs and devouring the stacks of paper.
In seconds, the room transformed. The sterile light was gone, replaced by the flickering gold and orange of flame that cast monstrous shadows against the walls.
Glass cracked. The first vial popped with a hiss, releasing a plume of acrid smoke that smelled of burnt sugar and rot.
“Go,” Con said, his voice low but urgent.
We turned toward the stairs, the fire spreading behind us like a living thing, tongues of flame licking up the shelves and climbing toward the ceiling. The heat pressed against my back as we climbed, the roar of combustion chasing us upward.
By the time we reached the main warehouse floor, smoke was already curling through the cracks in the door, thick and black. Con kicked it open, and we stepped out into the open bay, lungs heaving from the climb and the fumes.
The warehouse stretched before us, dark and cavernous—but no longer empty.
Shapes moved between the crates and machinery. Dozens of them.
The low hum of augmented servos filled the air—a sound like distant thunder wrapped in static.
The firelight behind us threw the newcomers into stark relief—men and women in combat armor, faces obscured by tactical visors, skin gleaming where metal met flesh.
Their movements were precise, synchronized.
Their eyes—those that weren’t hidden—glowed red in the dim light.
Enhanced humans.
Not a handful this time. A small army.
They fanned out in perfect formation, closing the distance with quiet confidence.
Some carried rifles, others short blades, all augmented with tech that pulsed under the surface of their armor.
Behind them, near the central loading dock, I could see the glimmer of an armored vehicle—black, matte, silent.
Con stepped slightly in front of me, his body angled toward them, blade sliding free of its sheath with a soft hiss. The firelight caught along the curved steel, casting a pale shimmer that made the air around him hum.
“Looks like someone doesn’t want us to leave,” he said, voice low, calm.
I tightened my grip on the artifact’s satchel, the heat of its pulse seeping through the leather. “They must have been stationed nearby. Guarding this place.”
“Or waiting for us to destroy it,” Con muttered.
The line of soldiers stopped twenty feet away, their leader stepping forward. He was taller than the rest, his armor sleeker, his face uncovered. Beneath the sheen of cybernetic plating at his temples, his expression was almost human—cool, detached, confident.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” he said, his voice distorted slightly by the augment in his throat. “You are obsolete in our war.”
“Your war?” I repeated, bitterness in my tone. “You’re manufacturing monsters out of what’s left of humanity. You call that war?”
He tilted his head slightly, as though considering the accusation. “We call it evolution.”
Con’s jaw flexed. “You’ll call it extinction by the time I’m done.”
The man smiled, and then he raised his hand.
The enhanced soldiers moved.
Con was faster. He shoved me hard toward the nearest stack of crates. “Get down!”
The first volley of gunfire split the air, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. Sparks flew as bullets ricocheted off steel, splintering the wood near my shoulder. I ducked low, rolling behind cover, the satchel clutched tight against me.
Con charged straight into them, blade flashing like a streak of lightning.
He moved through the smoke and muzzle flash with inhuman precision—one strike severing a weapon arm, the next crushing a throat.
The augmented soldiers adapted quickly, spreading out to encircle him, but he was already inside their formation, too fast, too efficient.
I joined the fight with my daggers, my muscles still heavy from exhaustion but driven by adrenaline. I caught one soldier who broke rank, slammed my blade into the seam between his shoulder plates, and yanked. Sparks burst from the wound, followed by the sickly scent of burning circuitry.
The room became chaotic. Gunfire, firelight, the clang of steel against metal. The blaze from the lab below was climbing, smoke spilling through the cracks in the floorboards, wrapping the air in a choking haze.
The leader stood back, watching, assessing—until he saw me. His gaze locked on the satchel at my hip, and realization flickered across his face.
“The artifact,” he snarled.
He lunged forward, faster than I expected, but Con was there first. He caught the man mid-charge, their bodies colliding with enough force to rattle the crates nearby. Steel met steel as they fought, Con’s curved blade clashing against the other man’s short, jagged saber.
I could barely keep track of them, their movements blurring in the smoke and strobing light. Every strike threw sparks, every impact echoed through the warehouse like thunder.
The heat was rising now—the fire below creeping upward through the walls. The air shimmered, and a beam from the roof gave a low groan.
“Cass!” Con shouted between strikes, his voice cutting through the chaos. “The fire’s spreading—get to the exit!”
I hesitated, torn between the fight and the flickering inferno crawling closer.
“Go!” he barked again, shoving the leader backward with a brutal kick. “I’ll cover you!”
I turned, sprinting for the side door, the artifact’s weight heavy against my hip. Flames burst from the cracks behind me, licking up the walls in hungry orange tongues. The roar of fire and combat merged into one deafening sound.
We’d destroyed the lab. But now the whole damn place was burning—
and we were trapped inside with the monsters who had built it.
The roar of the fire swallowed everything—gunfire, shouts, even the sound of my own breath. The air had turned molten, thick with heat and smoke. Every inch of the warehouse was alive with flame. Metal groaned, beams cracked, and the blaze painted the walls in frantic, flickering orange.
I was halfway to the side exit when two enhanced soldiers broke from the shadows, cutting me off. Their eyes gleamed red through the haze, their movements unnervingly precise, bodies humming with the electric whine of augments.
I twisted to avoid the first strike—a blow meant to take my head clean off.
The man’s fist smashed into the steel beam beside me, denting it with a sound like thunder.
Sparks showered us both. I countered fast, slashing upward with my dagger, the blade biting into his side where armor met skin.
The hit slowed him, but it didn’t stop him. He came again, faster, angrier.
Before I could recover, the second soldier was on me. He grabbed for my belt—no, for the artifact.
The satchel tore from my hip.
“No!” I lunged, catching his arm, but he was stronger—augmented muscles turning his body into a machine of motion and precision. He twisted free, shoving me hard enough that my back hit the wall. Pain exploded down my spine.
I saw the first soldier closing in, a blur of black and steel.
He caught my wrist, wrenching the dagger from my grip.
I slammed my forehead into his faceplate—once, twice, until the glass cracked.
He reeled back, blood streaming down the exposed edge of his mouth.
I grabbed his own knife from his belt and drove it into the juncture of his shoulder.
Sparks burst from the wound, lighting his armor like a faulty circuit.
He stumbled, twitching, but I knew he’d recover. These men didn’t stop until something burned them out from the inside.
Behind him, the other soldier was already running—racing for the loading bay, the artifact clutched in his hand like treasure.
The pulse of it flared inside my skull, a golden heartbeat calling out to me, alive, desperate.
“Con!” I shouted over the fire. “He’s got it!”
Con’s reply was lost in the chaos, but I saw him cutting through enemies, making his way toward me. He was still a good fifty feet away. I couldn’t wait.