Chapter 145

Octavia was at the back of the line, gripping the signal jammer with her thumb hovering over the switch.

Oscar's voice crackled through the earpiece. "Power room's cut. Three minutes fifty seconds."

The iron gate still had the same padlock from last time. Octavia clamped the hydraulic cutter around the shackle, twisted her wrist, and the metal snapped. The broken piece tumbled into the mud.

As she pushed the gate open, the metal hinges let out a low, drawn-out groan.

The hallway was darker than before.

Two of the emergency lights had died. The few remaining ones flickered overhead, on and off.

The air reeked of disinfectant—so strong it stung—mixed with something damp and metallic, like rust.

Finnian crouched in front of the fire door, pressing the decoder against the electronic lock panel.

Numbers jumped across the screen for seven or eight seconds. The lock mechanism gave a muffled click and popped open a narrow gap. He glanced back at Isabella. She nodded and pushed the fire door open.

The underground care ward looked exactly the same as last time.

Three beds. Light blue striped bedding. Pillows indented from use.

But this time, someone was lying on the bed farthest inside.

Nova lay on her side facing the wall, a thin blanket pulled up to her shoulders.

Her hair was shorter than before, as if someone had hacked at it with scissors. The uneven strands stuck to the back of her neck.

The IV catheter was still in her wrist. A transparent tube hung down to the bedside, a half-inch of pale yellow liquid still visible inside.

Isabella walked over and crouched by the edge of the bed. She called out softly, "Nova."

The figure on the bed didn't move, as if deeply asleep.

Isabella tried again. "Nova?"

Nova's shoulder twitched slightly, like someone yanked from deep water.

She slowly turned over. Her pupils took a few seconds to focus. Then her lips moved, her voice dry as sandpaper. "You came."

Isabella's tone was firm. "This time, we're taking you out."

Nova stared at her for two seconds. She didn't ask where or how. She just said, "Okay."

Then she reached up and pulled out the IV catheter herself.

When the tape tore away from her skin, it took a thin layer with it. Her fingers were steady—nothing like someone who'd just had blood drawn.

Alexander did a quick check from the end of the hallway, his voice barely above a whisper. "Move."

Octavia had already spread the blanket across the corridor floor.

Finnian was in the back, using the decoder to reset the electronic lock's access log.

Zachary leaned halfway out of the ventilation duct and handed Nova a pack of compressed biscuits. "Eat these on the way."

Nova took the biscuits and followed Isabella, ducking into the ventilation duct.

The duct walls were colder than last time. A fine layer of condensation had formed on the metal surface.

Isabella led the way, glancing back every few seconds to make sure Nova was keeping up.

Her breathing was light. Her footsteps made no extra noise.

Halfway through, a distant hum came from somewhere beyond the duct walls—like an elevator starting up, or something being pried open.

Nova's footsteps paused for a beat, then she kept crawling forward.

Isabella didn't look back or ask. She just picked up the pace.

When they climbed out through the ventilation shaft behind the boiler room, the sky was shifting from deep blue to dull gray.

The air smelled of grass and dew—nothing like the sealed, chemical-soaked stench from below.

Nova stood at the edge of the shaft and took a deep breath. Halfway through, she suddenly bent over and dry-heaved twice.

Octavia pressed a hand to her back and murmured, "Take your time."

Nova waved her off and straightened up, stuffing the biscuits into her jacket pocket. "Let's go."

The getaway car was parked three hundred meters away on a forest trail.

Oscar hadn't turned off the engine. It rumbled low like a crouching animal.

As soon as everyone got in and the doors shut, Oscar floored it. The car shot forward.

In the rearview mirror, the gray roof of Crestview Medical Clinic shrank into the morning mist, became a blurry trapezoid, then disappeared completely.

Nova sat in the middle of the back seat, flanked by Octavia and Isabella.

She looked down at the bruise circling the needle mark on her wrist and said quietly, "There's another level below."

Isabella turned to look at her. "You've been down there?"

"Twice." Nova didn't lift her head. "First time was last winter. They had me go down to help organize samples. Second time was last month. They took me down, gave me a shot, then asked me some questions." She paused. "After they finished, I forgot. It took until the next day for it to slowly come back."

"What kind of questions?"

Nova was silent for a moment. "They asked if I'd come across a certain type of file when I worked at the Radcliffe Group. I couldn't remember clearly. But I remember their tone… they were very tense."

Isabella and Alexander made eye contact in the rearview mirror.

Alexander's voice was low. "What kind of file?"

"Something about a list." Nova closed her eyes. "They kept bringing up a list. But I'd never seen it."

The car went quiet.

Outside the window, tree shadows along the mountain road flew past in reverse. The headlights cut through the gray morning light.

Oscar glanced at Nova in the rearview mirror. "Where did they take you to give you the shot? Do you remember the exact location?"

Nova opened her eyes. "The basement. Third level. There's an iron door at the end of the hallway. The door number was scratched off, but there was a small 'SL' etched in the upper left corner of the frame."

Isabella straightened in the back seat and exchanged a look with Finnian—SL. SL again.

That abbreviation was like a thorn, lodged in the gaps of every clue.

Alexander's fingers tightened on the steering wheel for a moment. "That place—could you find it again?"

Nova looked out the window at the horizon growing more distant. She was silent for a long time. Then she said one word, quietly. "Yes."

The lights in the safehouse living room had been on all night.

Victoria was curled up in the corner of the couch, a thick blanket over her legs, her hands still trembling slightly.

She stared as Nova walked through the door. Watched as Octavia helped her sit down on the couch. Saw the gauze wrapped around her wrist, her face pale as paper. Then she suddenly spoke. "It's you."

Nova looked up at her. The two of them locked eyes for a second.

Victoria's gaze held something complicated. She recognized her.

Nova turned her head away. She didn't deny it. "It's me."

Isabella came out of the kitchen carrying two mugs of hot milk. She handed one to Nova and set the other in front of Victoria.

Victoria didn't take it. She kept staring at Nova. "You gave me shots."

"More than once." Nova's voice was soft. "At first I didn't know who you were. They just told me you were a patient who needed observation. Later I found out you were being tested."

"Tested for what?"

Nova looked down at her fingers. "Every time you were injected, you'd experience brief memory confusion."

"They recorded your recovery time. Recorded how fast you responded when you spoke. Recorded how much you could still remember the next day…"

"Your body metabolized that binding protein faster than they expected, so later they increased the dosage."

Victoria's lashes trembled. Then she lowered her head, picked up the mug of hot milk, and took a slow sip.

Isabella sat down in a nearby chair and looked at Nova. "You said in the car that they selected test subjects based on internal work relationships at the Radcliffe Group. How did you know that?"