Chapter 85 The Old Labs
The gun was heavier than it looked.
I felt it the moment Thane placed it back on the table between us, the dull thud echoing through the underground range. My arms were already sore from recoil drills, my shoulders tight, my fingers stiff from gripping metal, and trigger too long. The air smelled like oil and burnt powder, sharp and lingering in the back of my throat.
“Good,” Thane said, stepping back and folding his arms. “That’s enough for today.”
I blinked, lowering the weapon. “That’s it?”
I checked the wall clock without thinking. We weren’t even halfway through the scheduled session.
Thane didn’t answer right away. His gaze slid past myshoulder, just slightly, like he was acknowledging someone who had already been there for a while.
I frowned and turned.
Darius stood near the entrance to the range, half in shadow, arms crossed, posture relaxed in that infuriating way that meant he was paying attention to everything. I hadn’t heard him come in. That alone should have unsettled me. Instead, something warm flickered low in my chest.
“How long have you been standing there?” I asked.
“Long enough,” he replied evenly.
Thane cleared his throat. “Change of plans.”
My eyes narrowed. “Why?”
Darius pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “We’re going to check one of the old research sites. One we raided years ago.”
The word research landed wrong.
I felt it immediately a subtle tightening in my ribs, a cold awareness spreading through my limbs. I forced my hands not to curl into fists.
“I’m coming,” I said.
Darius opened his mouth. Closed it. His jaw tightened.
“No,” he said finally.
I turned fully toward him, meeting his gaze head-on. “Yes.”
“This isn’t training,” he said, voice calm but edged. “It’s an abandoned facility. We don’t know what we’ll find.”
“That’s exactly why I’m coming.”
“Lyra—”
“It’s not up for debate,” I cut in, the words coming out steady even though my pulse had started to race. “You don’t get to decide that for me anymore.”
The silence that followed was thick.
Thane shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable, but said nothing. He’d learned by now when not to insert himself between us.
Darius studied me for a long moment probably weighing the risks of taking me.
“Gear up,” he said at last.
Relief and tension crashed into me at once.
We left an hour later, traveling by ground through a stretch of forest that grew progressively quieter the closer we got to the site. The facility was buried into the side of a mountain, disguised once as a mining operation. Now it was nothing but rusted metal doors and a collapsed access road swallowed by moss and roots.
When we stepped inside, the temperature dropped instantly.
The halls were long and narrow, lined with metal walls that caught and distorted sound. Every footstep echoed too loudly. Emergency lights flickered intermittently, bathing the corridor in a sickly red glow.
“This place was shut down fast,” Thane muttered, scanning corners. “Too fast. When we arrived the place was overturned.”
I didn’t answer. My attention was caught by the smell.
Sterile. Old chemicals. Something faintly metallic beneath it all.
Just then, memories flash through my mind, leaving me dizzy and off-balance. Darius catches me, his voice tight with concern as he asks if I’m alright. I can only nod in response.
We moved deeper, passing empty observation rooms and shattered glass panels. Desks lay overturned, papers scattered and yellowed with age. Someone had tried to erase this place in a hurry and failed.
My breathing slowed as my body reacted before my mind did. My beast stirred, uneasy but alert, pacing just beneath my skin.
Then I saw it.
An operating table stood in the center of a larger chamber, bolted to the floor, restraints still attached. One of the overhead lights flickered, casting the table in and out of shadow.
My feet carried me forward before I realized I was moving. I stepped on a dirty file and bent down to pick it up and walked towards the operating table.
I reached out and touched the cold metal.
The shiver that ran through me was immediate and violent.
My vision blurred, not into a full memory, not quite, but fragments surged up anyway. The smell of antiseptic. Bright lights. The sound of my own breathing, too loud, too fast. Hands holding me down.
I sucked in a sharp breath.
Instantly, Darius was beside me, close enough that I could feel his presence like an anchor.
“You don’t have to remember everything today,” he said quietly.
His voice cut through the noise in my head.
“Memory comes in waves,” he continued. “Let it.”
I swallowed. My fingers trembled against the metal table. I pulled my hand back slowly, curling it against my chest.
Something about the way he said it, gentle, unassuming made my chest tighten.
I turned away from the table, forcing myself to focus on the room. That’s when I noticed the cabinet against the far wall, half-open. Inside, old files lay stacked and disorganized, some marked with faded symbols I didn’t recognize.
I crossed the room and pulled one free.
The moment I saw the name on the tab, my hands began to shake. The person’s transformation was being observed by my father.
I didn’t even realize I’d stopped breathing.
Darius noticed immediately.
He stepped closer, his voice low. “Lyra.”
I stared at the file, the letters swimming on the page.
My grip tightened.
“I can’t….” My voice broke. “I can’t open it.”
Darius gently reached out and took the file from my trembling hands.
“I’ll open it,” he said softly. “Not you.”
Our fingers brushed for just a second.
It shouldn’t have meant anything.
It did.
He flipped the file open with practiced calm, scanning quickly while Thane kept watch near the doorway. I stood close, close enough to read over his shoulder without fully committing to seeing every word.
“There,” Darius said, pointing to a section. “Project notes. Hybrid viability. Genetic sourcing.”
I felt sick.
“They were here,” I murmured. “Working on turning wolves into creatures like me.”
“No,” Darius corrected quietly. “They were trying to understand you. That doesn’t make it right, but it matters.”
I looked at him sharply. “Why?”
“Because it means you were never an accident.”
That stopped me.
He turned to face me fully, his expression serious. “They studied you because you survived. Because you adapted. Because you were stronger than what they built.”
My throat tightened.
His protectiveness, his steady presence, the way he shielded me from the worst of it without making me feel small, sent a warmth spreading through my chest that I didn’t want to name.
It shouldn’t feel like this, I thought.
It shouldn’t matter this much.
But it did.
We left the facility not long after, the weight of what we’d found pressing down on all of us. As we stepped back into the daylight, I inhaled deeply, grounding myself in the scent of trees and earth.
Darius lingered beside me.
As we walked back toward the vehicle, I realized something that unsettled me more than the memories ever could.
I trusted him. Despite everything I trusted him.
And that warmth inside me steady, dangerous, comforting, was growing.