Chapter 141: Secret Codes

The security cameras outside Victory Sports Center were disabled when we arrived, just as Alexander had promised.

I clutched his keycard in my good hand, my cast feeling heavier with each step.

The corrupted marks beneath my sleeve burned like acid coursing through my veins.

Seeing Caspian at the gala earlier, knowing he was being forced into announcing his engagement to Victoria tomorrow, had twisted something inside me I couldn't name.

"You don't look good," Isolde whispered as we approached the service entrance. "These marks are killing you, aren't they?"

"I'm fine," I lied, biting my lip as another wave of pain washed over me.

The crimson corruption had spread so far that only tiny flecks of gold remained.

"We have less than twelve hours before Victoria's ceremony tomorrow evening. If they complete that mark conversion ritual during their engagement party, I'm as good as dead anyway."

The memory of Victoria's smug face made my stomach churn.

She'd delayed their engagement announcement until tomorrow's elaborate ceremony—the final step in permanently binding Caspian to her through the marks.

The keycard worked seamlessly, granting us access to a service corridor that appeared completely ordinary—concrete floors, harsh fluorescent lighting, storage shelves lined with maintenance supplies.

Nothing about it screamed "secret Palmer laboratory."

"Alexander said the lab entrance is disguised as a utility room," I explained, checking door numbers as we moved silently through the corridor. "B-135. Should be at the end of this hallway."

We found the door—unmarked except for the number, identical to every other maintenance room.

The keycard scanner was cleverly hidden behind what looked like a circuit breaker panel.

"Palmer really went all out with the secret lair aesthetic," Isolde muttered as the door slid open, revealing an elevator.

My marks flared with sudden pain as we stepped inside.

No buttons, just a palm scanner.

I pressed my marked wrist against it.

The scanner flashed red, an angry buzzing sound filling the small space.

"Shit," I whispered, cradling my wrist. "It must require Palmer DNA."

Isolde pulled a small kit from her pocket.

"Good thing I came prepared." She extracted what looked like a thin film. "Helena gave me this. It's infused with Victoria's skin cells from a wine glass she used."

The scanner flashed green, and the elevator began its descent.

I thought of Caspian's warning about Alexander—his insistence that the older Palmer brother was more dangerous than Victoria and Jeffrey combined.

What was I walking into?

"How deep does this go?" I wondered aloud as we passed B4, B5, B6 on the digital display.

"Better question—what kind of permits did Palmer fake to build this?" Isolde replied, checking her watch.

"We've got twenty minutes before Alexander's diversion ends and Victoria's security sweeps this area."

The elevator stopped at B8, doors opening to reveal a sterile white laboratory that made my skin crawl.

The place reminded me of the facility where we'd found Rachel—cold, clinical, reeking of antiseptic and something faintly metallic.

Screens lined the walls displaying genetic sequencing, medical charts, and real-time tracking of mark bearers throughout the city.

At the center stood a series of containment units—glass cylinders large enough to hold a person.

"Look familiar?" Isolde asked, nodding toward one unit with obvious damage.

"That's where we found Rachel," I confirmed, moving toward the main computer terminal. "The marks were killing her too."

I plugged in Alexander's drive and started searching for termination codes.

The corrupted marks on my wrist throbbed in sync with each keystroke, as if responding to their birthplace.

"According to these files, the mark conversion ceremony Victoria's planning for tomorrow isn't just an engagement party," I said, scanning through documents.

"It's the final phase of Project Mirror—a neurological synchronization ritual using specific frequencies to permanently transfer Caspian's connection from me to her. Once completed, he'll be bound to her forever."

"And what happens to you?" Isolde asked, though her expression suggested she already knew.

"Neural collapse. Death within hours." My voice sounded detached, as if I were discussing someone else's fate. "Alexander said the primary server would have emergency shutdown protocols."

I continued searching: "Project Mirror... Genetic Reconfiguration... Subject Synchronization..."

The terminal suddenly beeped, displaying a warning: Palmer DNA verification required for access to termination protocols.

"Of course," I said bitterly, slamming my good hand against the console. "Another dead end. Alexander probably knew this would happen—he's playing us just like Victoria is."

Isolde glanced nervously at her watch. "Twelve minutes left. Maybe there's another way?"

I scanned the lab desperately, searching for anything useful.

My gaze landed on a medical station with vials of glowing blue liquid.

"The counteragent," I realized, moving toward it. Images of Caspian's face flashed through my mind—the genuine concern in his eyes when he saw my cast, so different from the empty performances he gave for Victoria. "Helena mentioned this. It won't terminate the marks completely, but it might reverse the corruption temporarily."

I grabbed two vials and a pair of auto-injectors, carefully loading them with hands that wouldn't stop shaking. "One for me, one for Caspian—if we can get to him before the ceremony tomorrow."

The marks on my wrist suddenly flared with blinding pain, sending me stumbling against the lab bench.

A vial crashed to the floor, glowing liquid spattering across the sterile tiles.

"Sage!" Isolde rushed to my side, her arm around my waist the only thing keeping me upright.

"I'm okay," I gasped, though the lie was transparent. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. "But we need to hurry."

As I straightened, my eyes caught something on a nearby screen—a genetic profile labeled "S. WINTERS."

Next to it was a side-by-side comparison with "C. DRAKE," highlighted sections showing a 97% match in specific genetic markers.

"That's why our connection was different," I whispered, reading the notes, a strange mixture of horror and wonder filling me. "Palmer didn't anticipate our genetic compatibility. The marks were supposed to be weaponized, but in us, they became something else."

"Is that why they're trying to corrupt them?" Isolde asked, studying the diagnostic.

Before I could answer, an alarm blared through the facility, the lights switching to flashing red.

"Unauthorized access detected," an automated voice announced. "Security protocols engaged."

"Time to go," Isolde urged, grabbing my arm. "Did you find what we needed?"

I quickly ejected Alexander's drive. "Not the termination codes, but maybe something better. The genetic key to why our marks work differently."

As we sprinted toward the elevator, my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number:

[Get out NOW. V knows you're there. – C]

My heart lurched at the sight of that simple initial. Even now, he was trying to protect me.

We barely made it into the elevator before steel security doors began slamming down throughout the lab.

The doors closed just as the first security team burst in, their shouts muffled by the elevator's ascent.

"That was too close," Isolde breathed, checking her weapon.

I stared at the remaining counteragent vial clenched in my fist, its blue glow illuminating my palm through the glass.

We hadn't found the termination codes, but we'd discovered something possibly more valuable—hope.

"We have the counteragent and genetic data," I said, determination replacing fear. "Now we just need to get to Caspian before tomorrow's ceremony."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Isolde asked as the elevator doors opened to the service corridor. "He'll be surrounded by Palmer security."

I slipped the auto-injector into my purse, the ghost of a smile crossing my face despite the pain radiating from my marks.

"We crash a wedding."