Anna sat in the quarantine room, a windowless box that felt more like a prison than any lab she’d ever worked in. The sharp sting of antiseptic clung to the air, mixed with the cold, metallic tang that never quite went away. From the steel chair beneath her, she could hear the soft hum of the ventilation system spinning in endless loops. Monotonous. Like a sand timer that never stopped dripping.
If she weren’t halfway sane, she might’ve lost it just staring at that damn vent. But she’d been through this kind of thing too many times. Enough to know Killian wasn’t just some guy working for a glorified security outfit.
The laptop in front of her was still open, screen blank. Ever since she’d read that she was now officially one of the people responsible for this cursed project, she’d gone q
