Page 21 of Eden and her Mercenary
A soft beep from the computer made Harrison smile. "Transfer authorized. You're clear to take it."
Ryker carefully lifted the case, testing its weight. "Heavier than it looks."
"Titanium housing," Harrison explained. "The internal components are extremely sensitive."
I checked my watch. "We need to move. Our window's closing."
Eden hesitated, turning to Harrison. "Why Stella? Of all the dogs they could have chosen, why her?"
Harrison's expression clouded. "They needed dogs with specific neurological profiles—high intelligence, strong will, physical resilience. Fighting dogs have been selectively bred for these traits for generations. Subject Seven—Stella—tested off the charts in cognitive assessment."
"She's not just a fighter," Eden said softly. "She protected me when she barely knew me."
"That's what makes her special," Harrison agreed. "The implant can force compliance, but it can't create loyalty. That comes from something deeper." She glanced at her watch. "Security rotation in three minutes. You need to go—now."
We moved toward the door, Ryker carrying the neural mapper in its case. Harrison remained at the computer, fingers still moving across the keyboard.
"Aren't you coming?" Eden asked.
Harrison shook her head. "I need to finish covering our tracks. Besides, if I disappear the same night as the equipment, they'll know I was involved."
"They'll figure it out anyway," I pointed out.
"Eventually," she conceded. "But by then, I'll have gathered enough evidence to protect myself." Shelooked up, meeting Eden's eyes. "Save her. Subject Seven deserves better than what we did to her."
Eden nodded, a silent understanding passing between the two women. We slipped out of the lab, retracing our steps toward the service elevator. The corridors remained eerily quiet, our footsteps echoing slightly despite our attempts at stealth.
"That was too easy," Ryker muttered as we reached the elevator.
"Agreed," I replied, scanning the hallway behind us. "Declan, anything unusual on your end?"
"All clear so far," his voice came through our earpieces. "But security just received a call at the main desk. Can't hear what it's about."
The elevator arrived with a soft chime. We stepped inside, Ryker carefully setting the case between us as I pressed the button for the ground floor.
"New plan," I decided as the doors closed. "We're not using the main exits. Too risky."
"Loading dock?" Ryker suggested.
"Negative,"
"Too many cameras," I replied, thinking fast. "Maintenance exit on the west side. It leads directly to the employee parking lot."
Eden nodded. "Good call. Less security, direct path to the van."
The elevator descended smoothly, the tension in the small space almost palpable. When the doors opened on the ground floor, we were greeted by an empty corridor—a stroke of luck I wasn't counting on lasting.
"Move quickly, but don't run," I instructed, leading the way toward the west wing. "Running attracts attention."
We maintained a brisk, purposeful pace, the neural mapper's case swinging gently in Ryker's grip. The facility seemed unusually quiet for a research center that supposedly operated around the clock.
"I don't like this," Ryker muttered. "Where is everyone?"
Just as the words left his mouth, a siren began to wail—not the blaring evacuation alarm I'd expected, but a soft, pulsing tone that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves.
"Code Yellow. Security sweep in progress. All personnel remain at workstations for verification." The announcement came over the PA system, the calm female voice at odds with the urgency of our situation.
"Shit," I hissed. "They know."
