Chapter 144

Chapter 144

Finnian crouched in front of the fire door, pressed the stethoscope against the panel, and listened for a few seconds before giving Isabella a nod.

He pulled out the decoder and placed it against the electronic lock panel on the doorframe. Numbers began scrolling across the screen.

About thirty seconds later, the lock mechanism released with a dull thud. Finnian pushed the door open just a crack.

Isabella slipped through sideways. The moment her feet touched the ground, she felt the temperature drop several degrees compared to the drainage tunnel. The air carried a sharp mix of disinfectant and something metallic.

Cold white emergency lights illuminated the hallway.

She turned left and walked about twenty paces. The first door appeared on her left, its electronic lock panel displaying a plaque that read "Storage."

Finnian stopped at the second door.

Along the edge of this door's frame ran a dried water stain, its drag pattern extending deeper into the corridor.

Isabella crouched down and touched it with the back of her finger. Completely dry, but the mineral residue suggested it had formed within the last forty-eight hours.

"Someone was dragged out from here."

The staircase at the end of the corridor was steeper than expected. Metal anti-slip plates covered the steps, their edges worn smooth, shallow depressions pressed into their centers.

Isabella walked at the front, her hand on the railing.

At the bottom of the stairs was a small nursing area. Three beds lined the wall in narrow intervals, their bedding a uniform pale blue stripe. The pillows showed signs of use, but the beds were empty.

Isabella walked to the farthest bed. On the nightstand sat a used IV catheter wrapper, the needle taped to the edge of the surface.

The liquid residue at the catheter's tip hadn't completely dried yet. Recently removed.

Octavia crouched beside the second bed and pulled a slipper from underneath. "Small size. Women's."

Isabella photographed the labels on every IV bag beside each bed.

She recognized the numbering format on the bottles—identical to the experimental sample codes from the Kitayama Biotech Institute. The first character was the letter 'L,' followed by six digits.

As she finished photographing the last label and turned to leave, an extremely faint sound came from under the farthest bed. Like fabric brushing against something.

She froze.

Octavia froze too.

Both looked toward the third bed.

Isabella dimmed her flashlight to its lowest setting and crouched down, shining it beneath the bed.

The moment the beam swept in, she saw someone—a woman in a pale gray hospital gown, her back pressed against the wall, legs drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around her knees.

Her face caught the edge of the flashlight beam. She squinted against the sudden brightness.

Isabella quickly angled the light away. "Are you being treated here?"

The woman's voice came out dry and hoarse, her eyes pleading. "Don't leave… please help me…"

Isabella quickly assessed the woman's physical condition.

Beneath the sleeves of the pale gray hospital gown, her wrists showed obvious venipuncture marks—at least three of them, varying in age.

This meant she'd been injected frequently.

A regular patient wouldn't have this density of puncture marks. She was being systematically sampled.

This nursing home was definitely working with the Kitayama Biotech Institute.

The woman's gaze settled on Isabella's face, her pupils slowly focusing. Her voice came out slow. "They give people injections every day. After the shots, we can't remember anything clearly."

"Did they inject you today?"

"Not today. No one came today." Her fingers clutched at the fabric of her pants. "I don't know when the next time will be."

Isabella gripped the woman's hand, feeling her skin temperature register lower than normal.

At least half a degree to a full degree below average. She'd definitely been in a low-temperature environment long-term—a classic indicator.

Octavia's voice came in a low warning. "Lights on. We need to move."

Isabella squeezed the woman's hand and whispered, "We'll come back for you. Stay alive. I'll get you out of here."

The woman asked one more question. "What's your name?"

Just before the door closed, Isabella said quietly, "Isabella."

Finnian re-locked the door, and the three retraced their route.

When they emerged from the drainage tunnel exit, Alexander's car was already parked behind the bushes.

Isabella bent down and slid into the back seat. Alexander turned from the front seat to look at her. She wasn't injured, her breathing was steady, but her brow was furrowed.

Zachary leaned over from the passenger seat. "What did you see?"

Isabella handed him her phone.

The IV bag label numbers glowed in the darkness on the screen.

Finnian reported the comparison results. "Completely consistent with the Kitayama Biotech Institute's previous experimental sample codes."

The car left Maple Hill Township without headlights, following the mountain road for about two kilometers before turning the running lights back on.

Isabella leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes for a moment. The woman's voice still echoed in her ears.

When they returned to the safe house, the horizon had already turned pale gray. Oscar waited at the door, only relaxing once everyone had made it inside safely.

Isabella transferred the photos from her phone to the large screen.

Magnified, the IV bag labels revealed an extremely small line of letter abbreviations below the numbers: 'S.L.'

Finnian saw the abbreviation and frowned slightly. "S.L.? I've seen that in Nova's old file signatures."

"I remember—this person used to work at the Radcliffe Group research facility. She left three years ago. Her file noted she had a burn scar on the webbing of her right hand…"

Finnian paused, immediately pulling up Nova Ramirez's file page. "You're right. The old records do confirm Nova had a burn on her right hand's webbing."

Isabella stood in front of the whiteboard and drew a line connecting 'S.L.' and 'Nova,' then wrote 'Nova' in the center of the relationship diagram.

If Nova was the person Victoria mentioned—the one giving injections—then why would she be here?

The necessary connection was missing.

Isabella stared at the names on the whiteboard and added a question mark next to Nova's name.

Victoria came down from upstairs. Her gaze landed on the photograph of the IV bag label. She was silent for several seconds before speaking. "The person who gave me injections had a scar on the webbing of her right hand…"

"She wore gloves every time, but twice when she took them off to wash her hands, I saw it. Irregular shape, like a burn… felt like it was from oil or something."

The living room fell silent for a moment. Everyone looked at her.

Isabella turned to glance at the new notation beside 'Nova' on the whiteboard, then looked at Victoria.

Victoria didn't linger. She turned and went back upstairs, her footsteps disappearing at the far end of the hallway.

Alexander walked over to Isabella's side. "Tomorrow I'll go with you to check Nova's old records. The Radcliffe family archives might have her employment information."

Isabella nodded, her fingertip tracing the rim of her cup.

Outside the window, daylight had broken. The living room was quiet except for the fan still whirring in Oscar's computer.

The nights in Maple Hill Township ran deeper than those in Imperial City.

Half the mud and water in the drainage tunnel had dried, forming cracked shells that made tiny splintering sounds underfoot.

Isabella walked at the front. Her left shoulder wound scraped against the rough tunnel wall. She didn't make a sound, but her steps hesitated for a split second.

Alexander's lowered voice immediately came from behind her. "Let me take the front."

"I'm fine." She kept moving forward.