Chapter 227
I don’t hesitate. The second the helmet is off and I see Peter’s face—alive, real, and standing right in front of me—I throw my arms around him.
He stiffens in shock for a second, then lets out a breath and hugs me back just as tightly.
“Holy shit,” I whisper. “Peter.”
“I could say the same,” he breathes, his voice raw. “After Hiro’s last update, I thought I’d never see you again.”
I pull back just enough to look at him. “I told you that I would come back. For both of you.”
Peter lets out a half-laugh, but his expression is grim. He glances warily at Cora and Arista, who are watching him with sharp, assessing gazes.
I turn to them. “This is Peter. He’s one of my contacts on the inside. He’s a friend.”
Cora raises a skeptical brow. “Are you sure about that?”
I nod firmly. “If it weren’t for him, I’d still be human and Wake would’ve burned this island down when he had the chance. Peter’s the only reason we’ve gotten this far. I trust him.”
Peter swallows, nodding to them in greeting. “I’d say nice to meet you, but under the circumstances…”
“Yeah,” Arista says flatly. “Let’s cut the pleasantries. What the hell are you doing down here, and what exactly is this place?”
Peter’s face darkens. “I’m as unfamiliar with this part of the facility as you are. I don’t have authorization to be here. And as for why I’m here…I’m down here looking for Marina. When I found out what they were planning for her…” He trails off, shaking his head, fury flashing in his eyes. “I had to do something.”
A cold weight settles in my stomach. “It’s true what they said, isn’t it?”
His jaw clenches. “I tried to convince them that euthanizing her was unnecessary. That we had options. But they wouldn’t hear it. They said she was a compromised specimen and a security risk.”
I grit my teeth. “Let me guess—these bastards came from corporate?”
Peter nods. “Yeah. Have you… met them?”
“Unfortunately not. But I’d love to,” I say darkly.
Cora’s expression twists in disgust. “Tell me that it isn’t too late,” she mutters. “After everything they’ve put her through, the thought that these people would exterminate her like some rabid dog….”
Peter looks just as angry. “The order came from up high. Whatever the hell that means anymore.”
I narrow my eyes. “Lily St. Cloud isn’t the one calling the shots anymore, is she?”
Peter hesitates, then sighs. “Technically, yes. But only to save face with the researchers. It’s the team from corporate that’s running things now.” His gaze flicks toward the cryo labs, a haunted look in his eyes. “And I think they’ve decided that Marina is more useful dead than alive.”
Cora tenses beside me. “You think they’re going to autopsy her?”
Peter exhales sharply. “There are a lot more sirens in the facility now.” He meets my gaze, his voice dropping to a grim whisper. “The one thing there isn’t… is a cadaver.”
A chill creeps up my spine.
This is so much worse than I thought.
“This is insane,” I whisper, my thoughts spinning. “Peter, do you know where they’re keeping Wake?”
Peter shakes his head. “I don’t. But.” He takes a breath, looking between the three of us. “I do think I know where they’re keeping Marina.”
Cora steps forward, eyes blazing. “Then take us to her.” Her voice is steel. “It’s not too late.”
Peter doesn’t hesitate. He moves to a nearby locker, yanks it open, and pulls out three spare hazmat suits. “Put these on,” he orders. “They won’t let us get far if we’re not in proper gear.”
We obey quickly, pulling the suits over our stolen lab coats. The moment our helmets are sealed, Peter leads the way through the back hallways and corridors of the facility using a weathered-looking schematic to guide us. He knows where he’s going—but he’s nervous. Every few steps, he glances around, listening for sounds that aren’t there.
We reach a sterile, high-security sector of the sub-facility.
Peter stops at a reinforced door, swiping his stolen ID card. The door hisses open, revealing—
A surgical theater.
Cora inhales sharply.
My stomach drops.
Inside, a team of scientists clusters around a cryochamber, its glass casing illuminated by sterile blue-white light.
Marina’s cryochamber.
She’s inside.
The fluid inside is still, her motionless form barely visible beneath the icy glow.
I take a single step forward, rage and fear clawing at my throat.
“We’re too late,” Arista whispers.
“No,” I snarl, hands curling into fists. “We’re not.”
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