CHAPTER 31
ARIA
A few days had passed since I’d seen Dalton.
I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or just exhausted from thinking about him—about everything. But then, late in the afternoon, one of the assistants found me in the hallway.
“Dr. Dalton is looking for you,” she said simply, before hurrying off.
My stomach turned. I hadn’t expected to face him again so soon.
Still, I made my way to his office, each step heavier than the last.
My mind ran through a dozen possibilities—another empty justification?
A new task?
Another manipulation cloaked as concern?
But when I pushed open the door, the room was empty.
No lights were on, except for the natural grey cast slipping through the blinds. I stepped inside, hesitating for a moment.
Maybe he’d just stepped out.
Maybe I’d misunderstood.
I was about to turn back when something caught my eye—a desk drawer, not fully closed.
It was a small thing. Barely noticeable. But something about it tugged at me.
I walked over slowly, drawn by instinct or maybe just habit. I reached for the drawer, fingertips brushing the handle, and pulled it open just a little more.
That’s when I saw it.
A card.
Dark, metallic, clean.
High-level access.
My breath caught in my throat. I knew what this was.
Dalton’s clearance card.
The one that could override every door in this cursed facility.
The one that could take me anywhere—including the basement.
Including Lean.
My heart began to race, pounding against my ribs like it wanted out.
Was this a mistake?
Had he meant to leave it?
No—Dalton never made mistakes like that.
But the drawer had been open. He was nowhere to be seen. The room was silent, empty, still.
And suddenly, I wasn’t thinking anymore.
This wasn’t just a chance.
This was fate handing me a moment.
A crack in the wall.
A key in the lock.
I reached out and, with trembling fingers, slipped the card into my pocket.
This was it.
My way in.
My way out.
Maybe even my way back to who I used to be.
And I wasn’t going to let it slip through my fingers.
The card burned in my pocket like it knew what I was about to do.
I kept my expression neutral as I approached the entrance to the experimental building, nodding at the security guard at the front desk.
My palms were damp, and I could feel my heart thudding against my ribs.
I couldn’t let it show.
I approached the security checkpoint, nodding once at the two guards standing stiffly by the door.
“I need to check on some irregularities in the latest experiment logs,” I said, voice calm, casual—controlled.
“Dr. Dalton asked me to confirm a few results. Shouldn’t take long.”
They exchanged a quick glance, but one of them shrugged and stepped aside.
“You’re cleared. Go ahead.”
The scanner blinked green as I swiped the card.
I slipped inside before they could second-guess themselves.
Once inside, I pressed the elevator button, the silence around me louder than any alarm. The light blinked as the lift descended, and I forced myself not to fidget.
Come on, come on…
When the doors finally opened, I stepped inside and pressed the button for the lower basement.
No one ever went down there.
No one was supposed to.
The hum of the elevator felt like a scream.
The moment it dinged, I rushed out into the corridor.
Cold fluorescent lights flickered above, casting a sterile glow over the polished concrete floor.
My steps echoed as I hurried toward the locked chamber at the far end.
My fingers shook as I reached into my jacket for the key I had stolen—weeks ago, when I still didn’t know if I’d ever have the courage to use it.
I knelt beside the thick chains securing the reinforced glass door and slid the key into the padlock.
A metallic click rang out, far too loud.
The chain fell away.
He was there—slumped forward, restrained, his head low. But he looked up when he heard the door open, and the moment our eyes met, something deep inside me cracked.
“Aria,” he rasped, his voice hoarse with disbelief.
I didn’t respond.
My hands were already working the lock, slipping the key into the thick metal cuff around his wrist.
My fingers trembled, but the click of the mechanism releasing gave me a rush of clarity.
Then a sound.
A sharp, unnatural beep.
I froze.
“No,” I breathed.
“No, no—damn it.”
The alarm.
Unlocking the chains must’ve triggered the emergency protocol.
Red lights began flashing along the hallway.
I knelt again, working quickly at the restraints binding his wrists and ankles to the wall. “I got access. I have the card. But the alarm—”
The final lock clicked free.
“Move!” I shouted, grabbing his arm.
“We have to get to the elevator. Now!”
He didn’t hesitate. Despite his weakened state, he pushed himself up and followed, his steps heavy but fast.
The alarm blared louder now, the sirens echoing off the walls like a countdown to disaster.
We ran.
We sprinted out of the chamber, his steps still unsteady, mine desperate.
The hallway pulsed with red light as the sirens screamed, and I jammed my finger against the elevator button.
“Come on,” I muttered, glancing back toward the corridor.
That’s when we saw her.
Sophia.
Standing calmly at the far end of the hallway in her white coat, eyes sharp.
“Wait!” she called out, jogging toward us.
“I’m not here to stop you.”
I didn’t know whether to believe her.
My body was still braced to run.
“They’ve welded the rooftop door shut,” she said quickly, eyes darting toward the security cameras overhead.
“You won’t make it out that way.”
“How do you know?” I demanded.
“Because I’ve been watching. And I’ve been waiting.”
Sophia’s voice was urgent but quiet.
“There’s a lab on the eastern side. It has a balcony,” she said.
“The exterior wall is cracked—it’s old. If you can reach the scaffolding outside, you can climb down. It’s your only chance.”
I hesitated.
So did he.
But something in her face—determined, not desperate—made me believe her.
“Lead the way,” I said.
And we ran.
The lab reeked of sterilised metal and false hope.
I was drenched in sweat, my fingers trembling as I pried open the lock on the lab balcony door.
Behind me, I could hear the ripping of steel, the shriek of metal being torn like paper.
Lean—was no longer holding back. He tore through the reinforced netting with his bare hands, muscles flexing beneath bruised skin, eyes glowing with something feral.
Powerful.
Free.
“Just a little more,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.
I could see the sky now—dusky and wide, the sun dipping beneath the horizon like a bloodied eye closing.
Freedom was right there.
We were almost out.
And then I heard the voice.
Cold.
Calculated.
“I wouldn’t move another step, Aria..or I’ll inject you right here.”
I froze.
Slowly, I turned around.
Sophia.
Her gentle facade was gone.
She wasn’t the nervous, overworked assistant I thought I knew.
She stood in the centre of the lab, calm and unwavering, a syringe held firmly in her gloved hand.
The liquid inside gleamed like mercury, ominous and full of promise—a threat more dangerous than any bullet.
"What—what are you doing?” I whispered, though the answer pulsed in the pit of my stomach like dread.
Her smile was thin.
“Did you really think I was helping you?”
“You said the rooftop was welded shut,” I hissed, backing away slightly, positioning myself between her and Lean.
“It is. I told the truth,” she replied smoothly.
“But this—him—escaping? I can’t allow that.”
Her eyes flicked to Lean, who had stilled, his bare chest heaving, every muscle taut with restrained fury.
“He’s the hope of our entire genetic advancement program. The apex of our research. Do you have any idea what he is worth? What does he mean for the future of human evolution?”
“He’s not your experiment,” I spat.
“He’s a person.”
“He’s property,” she said simply.
Something inside me snapped.
“Stay back,” she warned, voice rising now.
“You think I won’t use this?”
I didn’t think.
I lunged.
My body moved on instinct, fueled by nothing but adrenaline and rage and desperation.
I collided with her, knocking the syringe from her hand, sending it clattering to the ground.
She shrieked, and I struck her across the face, the sound echoing through the lab like a crack of thunder.
But before I could do more—
BANG.
The shot rang out.
A fiery pain exploded through my lower back. I collapsed to my knees, the breath stolen from my lungs.
The world swayed violently as hot blood began to soak through my clothes. I gasped, clutching at the cold floor.
“Aria!” His voice—Lean’s voice—roared like a beast.
I turned my head, vision blurring.
Guards poured through the shattered lab doors, weapons raised, faces hard.
More were coming.
The hallway filled with the thump of boots and the sharp clatter of rifles being cocked.
“Run,” I rasped.
“You have to run.”
But he didn’t run.
He walked forward—straight into the firestorm.
I saw the way his back curved, the stretch of bone beneath skin.
And then—they unfurled.
His wings.
Vast and terrible and beautiful—like obsidian blades slicing through the air.
Each leathery extension shimmered in the emergency light, catching every drop of blood on his skin and turning it into something that looked like war paint.
The guards hesitated.
Too late.
He moved like a storm—too fast to see clearly.
Gunshots exploded, but he didn’t stop.
Even when a bullet struck his shoulder, then another near his ribs, he didn’t falter.
He tore through the lab, a force of fury and instinct, knocking bodies aside with inhuman strength.
And then—he was beside me.
I could barely keep my eyes open.
His arms slid beneath me, careful but strong.
“Aria,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he held me close, his cheek brushing mine.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
I couldn’t answer.
My mouth was full of copper.
He pulled me to his chest, his heartbeat thunderous against my ear.
Then we were airborne.
The wind tore past us, howling like a monster in the night.
My body screamed in pain, every movement sending shockwaves through my spine.
But I didn’t cry out.
I didn’t dare.
I just held onto him—my fingers weakly clutching his skin, his warmth, his scent.
The lab fell away beneath us.
The facility.
The chains.
The pain.
The lies.
Gone.
And though I was bleeding, though my body was broken, I was in his arms.
We had escaped.
For now.
And for the first time in a long, long time—I believed we might survive.