Page 7 of Eden and her Mercenary (Changing of the Guards)

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W e moved purposefully through the corridors, following the path Wren had outlined—the one with the fewest cameras and security checkpoints.

The research being conducted on this level appeared to focus on pharmacology; through glass walls, we glimpsed labs filled with equipment for chemical analysis and synthesis.

Ryker casually adjusted his course to intercept her, the RFID cloner concealed against his thigh. As they passed, he stumbled slightly, brushing against her.

"So sorry," he apologized smoothly, steadying her with a brief touch to her arm and a grin. "I’m still breaking in my new shoes."

"No problem," she replied absently, already refocusing on her tablet as she continued down the hallway.

Ryker fell back into step with us, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Got it," he murmured.

"Head to the north stairwell," Declan instructed through our earpieces. "It's the least monitored route to Level 4."

We navigated through the busy corridor, maintaining our facade of belonging while avoiding direct interaction with actual staff. The north stairwell was marked by an unassuming door with a simple exit sign above it.

Inside, the concrete stairs echoed with our footsteps as we climbed to Level 4.

The atmosphere changed immediately upon opening the upper door—the hallway was darker, the security presence more obvious.

A guard station sat directly across from the stairwell exit, manned by two uniformed personnel watching a bank of monitors.

"IDs, please," one guard requested, barely looking up from his screen.

We presented our badges, and Ryker discreetly placed the cloned Level 4 access card on top of his original one. The guard ran a scanner over each, pausing slightly at Ryker's.

"Dr. Harrison," he read from the screen. "You're working late tonight. "

"Deadline tomorrow," Ryker replied smoothly. "You know how it is."

The guard nodded, returning our badges. "Neurology wing is restricted tonight. Special project."

My stomach tightened. Of course, the one area we needed to access would have additional security.

"That's where we're headed, actually," I said, projecting confidence. "Dr. Mercer's team needs the neural mapping system for morning calibrations."

The guard frowned, checking something on his computer. "I don't have any equipment transfers scheduled."

"It came down from Roberts directly," Eden interjected, naming the facility director we'd identified from our research. "Last-minute adjustment to tomorrow's demonstration."

The guard hesitated, then shrugged. "You'll need to sign for it."

"Of course," I agreed, accepting the digital tablet he pushed across the desk.

As I signed with a fabricated name, Declan's voice came through our earpieces: "Careful. Something's not right. Security protocols have changed from what my contact provided."

The guard returned my ID and waved us through. We proceeded down the hallway, maintaining our professional demeanor until we were out of sight .

"What's going on, Declan?" I murmured once we were alone.

"They've implemented additional measures around the neurology wing," he replied. "Motion sensors, heat detection. My contact says it happened suddenly this afternoon."

"After we asked about the neural mapping system," Ryker noted grimly.

Eden's eyes widened. "You think they know we're coming?"

"Maybe not us specifically," I reasoned, "but they've clearly increased security around exactly what we're after." I checked the corridor ahead. "We need a new approach."

"The biometric lock to the neurology wing requires both fingerprint and retinal scan," Declan informed us. "Wren's overlays might fool the fingerprint reader, but not the retinal scanner."

Eden's expression shifted from concern to determination. "What about Dr. Harrison? The one whose ID Ryker cloned?"

"What about her?" I asked.

"If she has Level 4 access, she must have authorization for the neurology wing. Where would she be right now?"

Declan was silent for a moment, presumably checking something. "According to the staff database, Dr. Elise Harrison has an office on this floor, east corridor, room 412."

"So we find her," Eden said simply. "Convince her to help us."

Ryker raised an eyebrow. "You want to kidnap a Prophecies researcher in the middle of their own facility?"

"Not kidnap," Eden clarified. "Persuade. Everyone has something they care about, something that would motivate them to bend the rules."

I studied her face, impressed by this unexpected side of her. "And if persuasion fails?"

She met my gaze steadily. "Then we improvise."

We altered course, heading toward the east corridor where staff offices were located. The hallway was quieter here, most offices dark at this hour. Room 412 had a narrow strip of light visible beneath the door.

"She's in there," I whispered. "How do we play this?"

Eden straightened her lab coat. "Let me try first. Woman to woman."

Before we could object, she knocked confidently on the door. After a brief pause, a tired voice called, "Come in."

Eden entered while Ryker and I positioned ourselves on either side of the doorway, out of sight but ready to intervene.

"Dr. Harrison?" I heard Eden say. "I'm sorry to disturb you so late."

"Do I know you?" The voice sounded confused, suspicious.

"No, but I know about Project Cerberus," Eden replied, her voice dropping. "And about the dog that escaped six weeks ago."

Silence followed, then the sound of a chair scraping back. "Who are you? Security!"

Ryker and I moved simultaneously, slipping into the office and closing the door behind us. Dr. Harrison—a woman in her early forties with streaks of premature gray in her dark hair—reached for a phone on her desk. I disconnected it before she could dial.

"We're not here to hurt you," I assured her, keeping my voice calm. "We just need access to the neural mapping system."

Her eyes darted between the three of us, calculating. "You're the ones who took Subject Seven."

"Her name is Stella," Eden said sharply. "And we didn't take her. We rescued her." Dr. Harrison's expression flickered with something—guilt, perhaps, or fear. "You don't understand what you're interfering with. Project Cerberus isn't what you think."

"We know exactly what it is," Eden countered, stepping closer. "Neural implants to control dogs remotely. Military applications. We've seen the scars, the trauma."

"And we've seen her brain scan," I added. "That implant is killing her."

Harrison sank back into her chair, shoulders slumping. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," she murmured, almost to herself. "The technology was meant to help—guide service dogs remotely for disabled veterans, help search and rescue operations in disaster zones."

"Then why the secrecy?" Ryker challenged, keeping watch at the door. "Why the armed mercenaries hunting her down?"

Harrison's eyes darted to her computer screen, then back to us. "Because Junction Security took over the project six months ago. They saw... different applications."

"Weaponization," I concluded.

She nodded, a haunted look crossing her face. "They brought in their own test subjects. Dogs from fighting rings, strays—animals they could experiment on without accountability."

Eden's hands clenched into fists. "Like Stella."

"Subject Seven was different," Harrison said quietly. "She resisted the conditioning. Most dogs eventually submit, but she..." A hint of admiration crept into her voice. "She kept fighting. That's why they increased the neural integration—trying to override her natural instincts."

"That's why we need the mapping system," I explained. "We have a surgeon who can remove the implant, but she needs to see exactly how it's connected."

Harrison laughed bitterly. "Remove it? Impossible. The integration is too complete."

"We have to try," Eden insisted, desperation edging her voice. "She deserves a chance at a normal life."

Something shifted in Harrison's expression as she studied Eden. "You really care about this dog, don't you? It's not just about exposing the project."

"I've spent my life helping dogs escape bad situations," Eden replied. "But this—what you people did—goes beyond cruelty. It's monstrous."

Harrison was silent for a long moment, conflict evident on her face. Finally, she reached into her desk drawer and removed a keycard. "The mapping system is in Lab 4C. This will get you in." She held up the card. "But I'm coming with you."

"Why would you help us?" Ryker asked suspiciously.

"Because I've been looking for a way out," Harrison admitted. "A way to make amends. When Subject Seven escaped during the power failure, I... may have disabled certain security protocols to aid her escape. "

My eyebrows shot up. "You helped her get out?"

"I couldn't stop the project, but I could save one dog." She stood, pocketing the keycard. "We need to move quickly. Junction 's security chief is on-site tonight—he's been obsessed with retrieving Subject Seven since she escaped."

"Lead the way," I said, gesturing toward the door. "But remember, if this is a trap—"

"It's not," Harrison interrupted, her voice firm. "I have as much to lose as you do if we're caught."

We followed Harrison through a maze of corridors, taking a route that avoided the main security checkpoints. She moved with purpose, occasionally checking her watch as if timing our progress against something only she was aware of.

"The night shift rotates at 11:45," she explained in hushed tones. "That gives us a seven-minute window when Lab 4C will be unmonitored."

Eden moved closer to me as we walked, her shoulder brushing mine. "Can we trust her?" she whispered.

"We don't have much choice," I murmured back. "But stay alert."

The neurology wing was marked by a set of heavy double doors with a biometric scanner mounted beside them. Harrison pressed her thumb to the pad and leaned forward for the retinal scan. The light flashed green, and the doors unlocked with a soft click.