Page 22 of Eden and her Mercenary
"This way," Eden urged, veering toward a narrow corridor marked 'Maintenance Only.' "If they're doing a sweep, they'll check the main exits first."
We ducked into the maintenance corridor just as a team of security personnel appeared at the far end of the main hallway. The space was cramped, lined with pipes and electrical conduits, dimly lit by emergency lighting.
"Declan, we need a way out," I whispered urgently.
"Working on it," came his tense reply. "They've initiated a full lockdown. All standard exits are being monitored."
We pressed forward, following the maintenance corridor as it wound deeper into the building's infrastructure. The siren continued its soft, insistent pulse, setting my nerves on edge.
"There," Eden pointed to a metal door marked 'External Access - Authorized Personnel Only.' "That should lead outside."
Ryker tried the handle—locked. "Needs a key."
I examined the lock—standard deadbolt, nothing fancy. "Stand back."
Three precise strikes with the butt of my concealed pistol, and the lock mechanism gave way. I eased the door open, revealing a narrow alley between buildings, illuminated only by the distant glow of security lights.
"Go," I urged, holding the door as Eden and Ryker slipped through. "Declan, what's our best route to the van from the west maintenance exit?"
"Head north along the building, then cut through the employee parking lot," he directed. "Security is concentrated at the main gates."
Chapter 8
Eden
We moved swiftly through the darkness, hugging the wall of the Prophecies building. The night air felt electric with tension.
The drizzle had intensified to a steady rain, providing additional cover as we navigated between parked cars. The neural mapper's case gleamed wetly under the parking lot lights, and Ryker shifted it to shield it better from the downpour.
"Almost there," Royal murmured, spotting our van exactly where we'd left it, still unremarkable among the employee vehicles.
That's when I heard it—the distinctive sound of a round being chambered. Behind us.
"Stop right there."
We froze. I turned slowly to see a man standing twenty feet away, gun aimed steadily at my chest. Even in the dim light, I recognized him—the broad-shouldered man from the SUV that had been chasing Eden.
"The neural mapper," he said calmly. "Put it down and step away."
Ryker remained motionless, the case clutched against his side. I went completely still, only the tension radiated from my body.
"You're making a mistake," Royal said, keeping his voice level. "We're authorized to transport this equipment."
The man smiled thinly. "Cut the shit. We know exactly who you are, Mr. O'Toole. You and your brother have quite the reputation in certain circles." His gaze shifted to me. "And Ms. Wade. Still protecting Subject Seven, I see."
"Her name is Stella," I spat.
"Her designation is Subject Seven," he corrected coldly. "And she's military property worth millions in research and development."
Royal shifted slightly, positioning himself between me and the gunman. "Who are you?"
"Marcus Reeves. Chief of Security for Junction." He gestured with his gun. "The mapper. Now."
My mind raced, calculating angles, distances, possibilities. The van was fifteen feet away. Too far to make a break for it with Reeves' gun trained on us.
"If you shoot us, you risk damaging the equipment," Royal pointed out.
"I only need one of you alive to carry it back," Reeves countered. "Doesn't much matter which one."
