The white gas curled around our ankles like a living thing, cold and clinical, but Marcus’s presence was a different kind of chill. He stood there, a relic of a war that had supposedly ended decades ago, his face a map of fresh blood and old, bitter scars. The physical key in his hand was heavy, rusted iron—a jagged contrast to the sleek, biometric world of the Wolfe Medical Center.
"The back door?" Ethan coughed, his voice a ragged edge. He leaned into me, his strength flickering like a dying candle. "You triggered the demolition, Marcus. You tried to bury us."
"I tried to bury the protocol," Marcus rasped, his eyes darting to the security cameras that were swiveling to track our movement. "The Sterling Tower was the brain. But this... this building is the womb. And the machine won't le
