Chapter 108: The Storage Facility

The night after the leak felt stretched thin, like the whole estate was holding its breath. Sleep came in scraps. Every creak of the old house, every whisper of the trees outside had me staring at the ceiling. By morning, I wasn’t sure if I’d slept at all.

We met in the war room again, the map glowing under Ethan’s laptop screen. Coffee cups circled the table, half empty and forgotten.

“This is our next move,” Ethan said, tapping the screen. A satellite image zoomed in on a cluster of warehouses near the river, half a mile from the shipping yard. “Unit 47A. Rented under a fake company name. No tax trail, no digital records. Just cash leases. It’s tied to the same trust we saw last night.”

Elena leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “So, basically a Creed hideout with a fancy padlock.”

“Or worse,” Echo murmured. She was standing at the window, watching the fog roll back from the lawn. “If Selene is as careful as Mara says, this isn’t just a warehouse. It’s a vault. She won’t leave it unguarded.”

Aidan turned to me. “We’ll need eyes and hands inside. Quiet. No alarms.”

I nodded slowly. “Then we split teams again. Recon first, breach later. We can’t walk into another trap blind.”

Ethan was already typing furiously. “I can loop the exterior cameras for twenty minutes, maybe thirty. After that, they’ll notice something’s off. We’ll need to be in and out by then.”

“Twenty minutes?” Elena raised her brows. “That’s barely enough time for Roxanne’s dramatic speeches.”

“Funny,” I muttered.

Aidan shot her a look, but she just smirked. Ethan rolled his eyes and went back to typing.

“Alright,” I said. “Here’s the plan. Ethan and Elena, you handle the entry—get us past whatever locks or tech they’re hiding. Echo and Rhea, you sweep the perimeter for traps or wards. Aidan and I go inside first. Mara and Callum cover extraction. No one moves alone.”

Everyone nodded. The plan wasn’t perfect, but it was something.

\---

By dusk, we were parked half a block from the facility, tucked behind an abandoned diner with boarded windows. The warehouses stretched along the water, massive metal shells lined in neat rows. Floodlights lit the lots, though several poles flickered like they hadn’t been serviced in months.

“Ugly place,” Elena muttered, checking her crossbow. “I hate it already.”

“Don’t get attached,” Aidan said.

I studied the building across the street. The walls were painted with peeling gray, graffiti scattered in faded streaks. But the windows were clean. Too clean. And the gate, though rusted, had a brand-new lock.

“This isn’t abandoned,” I said. “It just wants to look that way.”

Ethan adjusted his earpiece. “Cameras looping in three… two… one. We’re invisible. For now.”

“Move,” Aidan ordered.

We crossed the street quickly, sticking to shadows. Elena cut through the gate’s chain in seconds, her blade quiet against the metal. Echo crouched low, scanning the ground with narrowed eyes.

“Wards,” she whispered. “Two of them. Simple, but meant to warn. Give me a minute.”

She traced her fingers over the dirt, murmuring words I didn’t recognize. The symbols faded like smoke.

“Clear,” she said.

Inside the yard, the silence was thicker. Too perfect.

“Unit 47A is on the left row,” Ethan whispered through comms. “Third building.”

We slipped between containers, every footstep echoing louder than it should. My heart hammered.

When we reached the unit, I saw what Echo meant. The door was old steel, rust crawling across the hinges. But the lock? Fresh. Polished. Digital.

Ethan crouched beside it, pulling out his kit. “This is military grade. Not Creed tech—they don’t spend this much on locks.”

“Selene,” Echo said.

“Great,” Elena muttered. “Can we break it, or do we need to go home and cry?”

“Give me sixty seconds,” Ethan replied.

We stood guard, weapons ready. Aidan shifted closer to me, his voice low. “Stay sharp. This place feels wrong.”

“Since when has anything felt right?” I asked.

He almost smiled. Almost.

With a soft click, the lock gave way.

Ethan looked up. “Door’s yours.”

Aidan and I pushed it open.

\---

The smell hit first. Not rot. Not mold. Something sharper. Metallic. Like blood mixed with rust.

The lights flickered on automatically, triggered by motion.

And what we saw made my stomach twist.

Rows of cages lined the walls. Not empty. Inside, figures shifted—men, women, even younger faces. Their eyes glowed faintly in the dark. Some were hybrids. Some were something else entirely.

“Oh my God,” Rhea whispered.

One of the captives staggered forward, gripping the bars. His skin was pale, his body marked with scars. “Help us,” he rasped.

Elena cursed under her breath. “It’s a damn holding pen.”

“No,” Echo said, her voice low and steady. “It’s a collection. She’s gathering them.”

“For what?” I asked.

Ethan scanned the room with wide eyes. “For you.”

I froze. “What?”

He pointed at the wall. Etched into the steel, above the cages, were words written in black paint.

“The Harbinger must have her army.”

The words burned into me like fire.

“This isn’t just a storage unit,” Aidan said, his hand tightening around his blade. “It’s a recruitment ground.”

“No,” Echo corrected. “It’s a throne room. And she’s already building it for you.”

\---

The captives began to stir, more voices rising, desperate and broken.

“Please—”

“Let us out—”

“She’ll come back—”

I turned to Aidan, my chest tight. “We can’t leave them here.”

His eyes burned into mine. “If we open those cages, we’ll have more than prisoners on our hands. We’ll have soldiers we can’t control.”

“They’re people,” I said firmly.

“They’re weapons,” Echo cut in.

The argument cracked through the room like lightning.

Elena raised a hand. “Uh, not to interrupt this moral crisis, but I think we’ve got company.”

She pointed to the far end of the warehouse. The sound of boots echoed. Heavy. Many.

Ethan cursed. “The cameras are resetting early. We’re out of time.”

The captives pressed against the bars, shouting now, louder, frantic.

I gripped my blade. My voice shook, but I forced the words out.

“We fight.”

Aidan nodded once. “Then let’s make it count.”

\---

The warehouse door slammed open. Figures poured in—Creed soldiers in dark gear, weapons raised. At the front was a woman, tall, with hair black as ink and eyes like mine.

Selene.

She smiled when she saw me.

“Welcome home, sister.”