Page 126 of Bonds of Hate

“You sure about these coordinates?” I ask again.

“For the third time, yes.” Ares pulls up a satellite view on his tablet. “See that cluster of buildings ahead? Matches exactly with what our friend gave us before you bled him out.”

I grunt in acknowledgment. The sooner we check this lead, the sooner I can get back to the palace and make sure no one has taken advantage of our absence to make another attempt on Maya.

Despite lacking any real evidence, I can’t shake the feeling that she is uniquely in danger. The man who tried to take her had disappeared practically without a trace. No fingerprints, no blood, nothing to prove he even existed aside from my clear memory of seeing his masked and cloaked form disappear into a hallway that should have been a dead-end.

I figured out quickly that he used one of the palace’s hidden bolt holes, secret passages meant to be used for the royal family and their retainers to escape the palace during asiege. The existence of which should have been a closely guarded secret.

Who the hell was he?

The stench hits me before we even reach the property, rotting hay and ancient manure, the sickly-sweet decay that marks abandoned livestock operations. I signal Ares to kill the headlights and we coast the last hundred yards in darkness.

No other vehicles visible. No fresh tire tracks in the mud. No lights in any windows.

“Clear the building first, then we search for the dead drop,” I whisper as we gear up. The weight of my tactical vest is familiar, comforting. “I’ll cover the perimeter while you take point inside.”

Ares nods, checking his rifle’s action with practiced efficiency. We move in tandem through the knee-high grass, staying low and using the deeper shadows as cover. The dairy complex looms ahead, a sprawling collection of corrugated metal buildings connected by covered walkways, all of it slowly being reclaimed by nature.

I break left while Ares continues toward the rear loading dock. My boots make no sound as I circle the building’s exterior, checking for signs of recent activity or surveillance equipment. Nothing but rusted equipment and broken windows.

My barrel swings toward movement in the trees. An owl takes flight from somewhere above, wings silent against the star-filled sky. The night air carries the musty scent of decay and abandonment. This place has been dead for a long time.

I’m halfway through my sweep when Ares’s voice crackles through my earpiece.

“Poe, get in here. You’re never going to believe this.”

His tone sets my nerves on edge — not urgent or alarmed, but filled with a kind of wondering disbelief that makes my skin crawl. I double-time it back to the loading dock, weapon ready.

“What did you find?”

“Just get in here. Second door on the left.”

I slip through the partially open metal door, my boots crunching on broken glass and debris. The beam of my tactical light cuts through years of dust hanging in the air as I make my way down the corridor toward Ares’s position.

The stench of antiseptic and death hits me as I enter the room. My light beam reveals gleaming stainless-steel surfaces that have no place in this decrepit building. The contrast between the rotting exterior and this pristine laboratory is jarring.

“What the hell?” I sweep my rifle across the room, taking in the rows of medical equipment, centrifuges, and microscopes. Everything looks brand new, probably worth millions of credits.

Ares stands by a metal examination table in the center, his face grim. “Check this out.”

I approach slowly, my boots squeaking on the polished floor. The body of a woman lies spread-eagled on the table, chest cavity splayed open like a grotesque butterfly. Her organs have been systematically removed and arranged in labeled trays beside her. The precision of the cuts speaks of medical training.

“She’s fresh,” I note, examining the lack of decomposition. “Can’t have been dead for more than forty-eight hours or so.”

Movement catches my eye, a gentle swaying motion near the far wall. I train my light on what appears to be an IV bag still slowly dripping clear fluid into an empty chair with restraints.

Ares gestures to scattered papers and an overturned stool. “Someone must have left in a hurry.”

The various equipment scattered around the lab indicate the types of cruel biological and chemical experiments that were performed here, but I notice something that doesn’t quite belong.

A pharmaceutical pill press is mounted on the nearby workbench, surrounded by tablets in an unnatural shade of florescent and artificial yellow. I pick one up carefully with gloved fingers.

I hold up the pill for Ares to see. “What the hell is this for, do you think?”

He moves closer, nostrils flaring. “Nothing good.”

“We need to get Guardians out here,” I sigh, as I pocket a few of the pills as samples. “I’m guessing our perp is long gone. Hopefully, a forensic team can find something useful.”

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