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Chapter 4: The Black Lab
The plane touched down on a private dirt strip two hours before sunrise. The air in South Africa was warm and dry — too still for comfort. Jax stepped off first, scanning the horizon. Sienna followed close, rifle strapped across her shoulder, eyes sharp and wide awake.
“I don’t like how quiet it is,” she murmured.
Jax nodded. “Lazarus built their labs like tombs. Soundproof. Signal-proof. Conscience-proof.”
They trekked thirty minutes through brush before the compound emerged — low, concrete, overgrown.
Dead on the outside.
Too quiet on the inside.
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Entry Point
Pierce’s coordinates led to a collapsed service tunnel. They crawled through on hands and knees, flashlights flickering against warped steel. Jax’s breath grew shallow as they moved deepe
