Chapter 70 Lab’s Secrets
CHAPTER SEVENTY
Lena's POV~
Marrow’s secret lab was a crypt of steel and darkness, tucked away under Seryne’s old town, the air thick with a harsh tang and the smell of wet rock. I was at a rusty workbench, pale coat stained and flashlight beam shaking as it moved across rows of serum vials, whose amber light was like trapped fireflies. My heart hammered, raw guilt exposed like some gaping wound, cut open anew by each secret—I had helped Galden, had betrayed everyone. The chaos of the auction, the exposure of my complicity with Gregor — it all still burned, Valenticia’s leak into bidders’ tablets a blade that had thrust me here, to Marrow’s final hiding place, in search of redemption. I was breathing hard, my hands starting to tremble-- is Natasha following me? Her sneaking in my lab, her imprint — N.A. — on affected vials was a noose winding, and Gregor's manhunt, his remorseless canter, followed me within the dusky day. I held a crushed letter, just discovered in a drawer, the beautiful script of Eleanor Clawford searing itself into my soul: Lena, you’re our fight—protect Valenticia. My eyes stung, her trust a weight I hadn’t been able to bear, and I felt guilty — I’d helped erase her daughter.
I reached for my phone, my fingers slimy with sweat, and dialed Valenticia, fear a relentless throb. “Valenticia, It’s Lena, and- -Gregor’s coming for you; his men are all around. Hide!” Her breath caught, sharp across the line and she murmured, “I’m near Marrow’s lab—midnight.” My heart jumped, panic spasming up -- she's coming here? “It’s not safe,” I insisted, sensing the metal of the lab’s door, its screws rusty but snug. “Natasha knows I’m here.” ُScore, Valenticia voice hardened, a resolve coming down on her, "I'm not running Kevin. I nodded, although she could not see, guilt and awe grappling— she’s Eleanor’s fire. “I’ll leave you something,” I said in a low voice, “a weapon to fight back with. I replaced the receiver, terror a cold wash in my veins, and stepped back to the workbench, where my flashlight had settled on a file labeled Serum Reversal Protocol. A pulse grabbed hold of my ribcage, a hit of hope— An anti-Lazareth serum?
I opened the folder, its pages stiff, written over with Marrow’s tight script: Reversal agent, counteracts memory suppression, stabilizes neural pathways. My heart fluttered, guilt subsiding—this might save her. The method was crude and in need of further refinement, but I promised to complete it, whispering, for redemption. My fingers traced the equations, my mind spinning, years of Galden’s serum work — doses, trials, Subject V — flooding back. I didn’t realize it was Valenticia, I thought to shame a blade, but Eleanor’s letter, You’re our fight, was a torch. A memory surfaced, unwelcome: Marrow’s kindness in 1999, his exhausted smile as we burned the midnight oil, Lena, we heal science. I’d betrayed that, helping Gregor, but now I’d recover, for Valenticia, for Eleanor. I became firmer, fear a fading shadow I’d eluded from.
Natasha’s voice sliced through the crackling on the lab’s intercom, cold and mocking, “You’re the one who’s trapped, Voss—Galden is coming for you. Fear rushed, a vice around my chest, and I spun, flashlight shaking, with the steel door looming. She’s here, I think with a thud in my chest—how did she track me down? Her promise had been a whip, her ambition a reflection of Gregor’s, and I knew she would kill to get hold of the serum that was the heart of Lazareth. I stuffed the protocol down into my bag, shaking, and scanned the lab, fear whispering: Is there another way out? A vent grate in the corner caught the glint of the light, rusted but unsecured, and I pried it loose, my nails grating on metal, resolve to harden I’ll get this to Valenticia. --Natasha's voice reverberated again, "No one escapes Gregor." I clenched my teeth, fearing a drum beat that would not stop, and Eleanor's voice--protect Valenticia--sent me on.
I inched along the vent; it was tight around my shoulders, the air stale, freezing, as my bag dragged behind me. The light wore down, another spike of fear—what if I’m stuck? The lab’s secrets — vials, Eleanor’s letter, the protocol — weighed a weight I would carry, and I kept pushing, and I kept pushing, resolving a flame against the dark. The vent was into an alley, Seryne’s sea breeze was sharp and I staggered free, my coat torn, a thudding fear. I needed to get to Valenticia before midnight before Natasha’s people descended. My phone vibrated, a burner I’d stashed in my pocket, and I texted Valenticia: Alarm sounded at lab entrance, reversal agent — administer it. I unfastened the folder under the gap of freedom between two bricks in the hidden door of the lab, my hands trembling, then eased back to fear a tide—will she be in time?
Marrow’s kindliness flashed again, “Lena, you’re better than this. I had failed him and failed Eleanor, but Valenticia was my chance to redeem myself. I darted through Seryne’s alleys, my boots quiet on cobblestone, the beat of the city a faint hum. Fear nagged me, a steady rhythm, but I promised to keep Valenticia safe and her light free from Gregor’s darkness.