Page 45 of Green Ravens

The environment shifted, crackling.

Oakley slid off the table, stood on two strong legs, and arched his back, giving it a good, long stretch.

“You’re losing control over the Blacks.”

Oakley didn’t know exactly who“the Blacks”were, but they were two people who’d been giving the director’s organization considerable concern.

“Your funders think you’re wasting their time and millions on more engineered men you can’t control.” Oakley pinned the director with a cold glare. “And you’re starting to believe that too.”

It took several tense seconds before the director released a villainous laugh. The sound crawled down Oakley’s spine, but he controlled his reaction with ease.

“Oh, you are going to be worth every dollar.”

“You gave me the name ‘Valor,’ Mr. Director. That word means ‘of great worthiness,’ and I fully intend to live up to that definition…for you.”

“We will we see, won’t we?” The director said then turned to the scientist. “Move him to his suite and see that he has everything he needs and wants.”

On his way out, he threw over his shoulder. “And I want weekly reports on the progress of phase two.”

“Valor,” the woman said in a cautious voice, still standing at what she assumed was a safe distance, “is there anything you require?”

Oakley grinned. “Get a pen and paper. I have a sizable list.”

He would allow the organization to believe they were getting what they’d paid handsomely for.

He was going to learn their ways and be compliant. And when the opportunity arose, when they’d sharpened him to the finest possible point, he would cut his way out of this place straight through the director’s flesh.

Chief Styles Sawyer

The tang of sterilized metal and antiseptics preceded his captors, but with this visit, a hint of sweat and musk came with them.

They were nervous.

He could hear in their hushed voices the sound of uncertainty lingering around their clinical mumbo-jumbo.

“We were shockingly relieved by Valor’s response, but who’s to say Zorion will be the same?” The lone female scientist who always held the most compassion sighed as if exhausted. “Phase One needs considerably more time, but predictions of phase two are purely theoretical now.”

“I know,” a man added. “I’ve never tested on a subject to this extent.”

Subject. Sawyer was beginning to despise that classification.

Was he some unhoused man they’d taken off the streets? Did he not have a family looking for him? A spouse? An employer? He’d been in this lab for over a month now. Was he that insignificant?

“I’ve mapped the neural alterations. His cognitive pathways are firmly intact. We just need to guide him through this awakening phase.” Sawyer recognized Dr. Pheung’s accent. “I feel confident if we can establish a connection early on, Zorion may come to trust us. His species is the less dominant one, so we’ll need to help him develop a level of confidence beforeimplementing phase three. He’s going to naturally flee from Valor.”

“It was stupid to join these two animals. Why of all the species in the wild did the director choose—”

“We’ve asked ourselves that question from the beginning, and there’s still no realistic reason,” Dr. Pheung answered. “I can only assume because of these animals’ survival skills.”

“Animal”, what the hell?He couldn’t be hearing this right.

Sawyer loathed the sedation he was kept under. He was always suspended between one part awake and three parts asleep. Therefore, he was never sure if what he was experiencing was real or a dream.

The last dose he’d received—that only felt like minutes ago—had made his eyelids feel like weighted blankets.

Buttons were being pressed and switches flicked as the soft hum of the many machines began to fade until the mechanical beeping was silenced.

With nimble fingers and gentle touches, someone began detaching him from tubes and wires. One by one, the restraints were undone and Sawyer could feel the tension in their hands as they worked, the way their breaths hitched when they pulled the last IV from the bend in his arm.

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