Chapter 226
The air in the facility feels thick, heavy with the hum of machines and the low, constant thrumming of Darklite energy in the walls. My fingers twitch with nervous energy as I glare at the scientist, my patience razor-thin.
“What time is Marina’s execution scheduled for?” I demand.
The scientist hesitates, eyes darting to his unconscious colleagues sprawled across the floor. “It… it might have already happened.”
Arista doesn’t give him a chance to say another word. She grabs him by the collar, lifts him clear off the ground, and slams him against the nearest wall. Equipment rattles from the impact, and the scientist lets out a strangled yelp.
“For your sake,” she hisses, her face inches from his, “you’d better hope not.”
The other remaining scientist raises his hands in surrender, shaking his head wildly. “I swear, we don’t know the exact time! They don’t tell us details like that for projects we’re not assigned to! But—I think—” He swallows hard. “I think I heard someone mention it was scheduled for this afternoon.”
Cora’s expression turns stone cold. “Which means we might still have an hour or two.”
I exhale sharply. It’s not much time.
“Where is she?” I snap.
The scientist stammers out a lab number, one that means absolutely nothing to me.
“Be specific.” My voice is low, dangerous.
“Down a floor,” he blurts. “To the east wing.”
That’s all I need to hear.
I nod. “Good enough.”
Then, I glance at Arista. “Drop him.”
She does—unceremoniously. The scientist crumples to the floor with a groan, clutching at his throat.
I extend my hands, electricity crackling between my fingertips, and send out a controlled shockwave. The remaining scientists barely have time to cry out before their bodies jerk and collapse, unconscious.
I scan the bodies quickly, yanking an ID badge off the nearest one and slipping it into my pocket. Then, I shrug on a lab coat from another, turning to Cora and Arista. “Get dressed. We’re doing this my way.”
Cora and Arista strip the unconscious scientists of their lab coats, hurriedly buttoning them up. Arista makes a face. “I hate this,” she mutters.
“Yeah, well, I hate being in a facility that tortures our people, but here we are,” I say dryly. “Suck it up.”
Together, the three of us slip into the hall and move.
We keep our heads down, walking swiftly but not suspiciously. The ID badge in my pocket will only get us so far, but if anyone asks questions, I have every intention of frying their nervous system before they get a second thought.
The deeper we go, the worse it gets.
We turn a corner and find the labs.
Cryo labs.
Rows upon rows of stasis tubes line the walls, each containing an Enkian. Some I recognize—many I don’t. My stomach tightens as I scan the eerie, pale blue glow of their containment units.
Some of them are young. Some look barely older than teenagers.
Arista’s expression darkens as she nods toward one—a man with a sleek, silver dolphin tail. “That one’s from Hale,” she murmurs. “I know him. A thief.”
Cora points to another—a broad man with black and white skin, like an orca. “That one’s from the Anchor,” she says grimly.
Then she points to another—one with pale purple hair and a jellyfish-like lower body that drifts lazily in his stasis. “And he’s from Amphitrite’s domain.”
I swallow hard as my eyes land on one more.
A male, his deep green tail marked with glowing runes I recognize all too well.
His spines are sharper than Wake’s, but everything else— his runes, his aura—is undeniably Abyssinian.
I freeze.
Wake and Delphinium were supposed to be the only sirens Enigma had ever captured.
So how the hell did all of these people end up here?
Arista glances at me, her eyes flicking between me and the Abyssinian siren. “How?” she asks.
I barely hear her. My mind is racing.
Cora shakes her head. “It’s a question we don’t have time to answer,” she says, voice tight. “We need to find Marina. If these bastards hurt her, I don’t know what I’ll—”
The door to the lab hisses open.
I whirl around as a scientist enters, clad in a full-body biohazard suit.
He freezes at the sight of us.
Arista and Cora move as one, seizing him before he can react. They shove him against the wall, arms pinned, his helmeted head jerking back in shock.
My hands crackle with electricity, ready to end him if he so much as breathes wrong.
But then—
“Phoebe?”
I stiffen.
The voice.
I know that voice.
Narrowing my eyes, I step forward and yank the face shield away.
My breath catches.
Peter.
My stomach twists.
He blinks at me, his face a mix of shock, guilt, and something I can’t quite place.
“Phoebe,” he breathes, his voice raw.
Everything inside me goes ice cold.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
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