Page 9 of Eden and her Mercenary (Changing of the Guards)

Eden

W e 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."

A flicker of movement caught my eye—a shadow detaching from between two parked cars behind Reeves. Dr. Harrison, moving silently toward him.

I needed to keep him talking. "What's so special about this dog anyway? Plenty of others to experiment on."

Reeves' expression hardened. "Subject Seven isn't just a test subject. She's the breakthrough. The first successful neural integration that allowed complete remote control without compromising cognitive function."

"You turned her into a weapon," I said, disgustedly.

"We enhanced her," Reeves corrected. "Imagine soldiers who could deploy canine units remotely, guiding them through hostile territory without risking human lives. Dogs that could be directed to search buildings, detect explosives, even engage targets—all from a safe distance."

Harrison was closer now, something clutched in her hand—a hypodermic needle. I kept my expression neutral, not wanting to alert Reeves to her presence.

"So you're doing this for the greater good?" I asked, injecting skepticism into my voice. "Forgive me if I don't believe the noble intentions speech from someone who thinks it’s okay to harm a dog. "

Reeves' jaw tightened. "Believe what you want. The technology in Subject Seven's brain represents years of research and millions in investment. We're not letting that walk away."

"And what happens to Stella once you get her back?" Royal asked, subtly shifting his weight forward. I recognized the movement—he was preparing to lunge.

"Further testing," Reeves said coldly. "The integration needs refinement. Subject Seven's continued resistance to certain commands is... problematic."

Harrison was directly behind him now, needle poised. In one fluid motion, she plunged it into his neck, depressing the plunger before he could react.

Reeves spun around, gun swinging toward her. Royal moved instantly, crossing the distance and tackling him before he could fire. The gun skittered across the wet pavement as they crashed to the ground.

"Run!" Royal shouted, grappling with Reeves, who was already showing signs of disorientation from whatever Harrison had injected.

Ryker sprinted for the van, neural mapper clutched against his chest. I grabbed Harrison's arm, pulling her along with me as we followed.

"What did you give him?" I gasped as we ran .

"Sedative," she panted. "Won't last long."

Royal delivered a final blow to Reeves' jaw, then scrambled to his feet, snatching up the fallen gun before racing after us. Behind him, Reeves struggled to rise, movements sluggish but determined.

Ryker had the van started by the time we reached it, rear doors flung open. We piled in, Royal last, slamming the doors shut as Ryker floored the accelerator. The van lurched forward, tires spinning on the wet pavement before finding traction.

"You came back," I said to Harrison, who was slumped against the side of the van, breathing hard.

"Couldn't let you take all the credit," she replied with a shaky smile. "Besides, I've been complicit in this for too long. Time to make it right."

Royal was peering through the rear windows. "We've got company. Two SUVs, coming fast."

"Hold on," Ryker called from the driver's seat, taking a sharp turn that sent us sliding across the floor of the van.

I braced myself against the door, my heart pounding as we sped through the darkened streets of the industrial complex. The neural mapper's case had slid to the center of the van, and I lunged to secure it before it could be damaged.

I crawled to the front of the van, clinging to the passenger seat as Ryker executed another sharp turn .

"We need to lose them before we head to Dr. Chen's," I shouted over the engine's roar. "They can't know where we're taking Stella."

"Working on it," Ryker replied through gritted teeth, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as he navigated the rain-slicked streets. The windshield wipers fought a losing battle against the downpour, creating a hypnotic rhythm that matched my racing pulse.

Royal had positioned himself at the rear doors, Reeves' gun held ready. "They're gaining. Black SUV, same model that's been following you."

"Take the next right," Harrison urged, leaning forward between the seats. "There's a construction site—multiple exits, easy to lose them."

Ryker nodded, wrenching the wheel. The van tilted alarmingly as we skidded around the corner, tires finding purchase at the last possible moment.

"Declan, we need an alternative route to the MacGallan estate," Royal said into his earpiece. "We've got Junction Security on our tail."

I couldn't hear Declan's response, but Royal's expression tightened. "Understood. We'll handle it."

The construction site loomed ahead—a half-finished office complex surrounded by chain-link fencing, its skeletal framework ghostly in the darkness. Ryker didn't slow as we approached the entrance, ramming through the gate with a metallic shriek that set my teeth on edge.

"Everyone, hold on!" he shouted as we bounced over uneven ground, construction materials flashing past on either side.

The pursuing SUVs followed, their headlights cutting through the rain like searchlights. One veered left, attempting to head us off at the far side of the site.

"They're trying to box us in," Harrison observed, her scientific detachment momentarily overtaking her fear.

Ryker spun the wheel again, taking us between two partially constructed buildings. The narrow passage scraped both sides of the van, the sound of tearing metal adding to the cacophony of the engine and pounding rain.

"There!" I pointed to a loading ramp that led up to the second level of the unfinished structure. "Can we make that?"

"Only one way to find out," Ryker replied grimly, accelerating toward the ramp.

The van struggled up the incline, engine protesting. For one heart-stopping moment, I thought we wouldn't make it—then we were on the second level, concrete pillars flashing past as Ryker navigated through the partially built floor.

"Where does this lead?" Royal asked, bracing himself as we bounced over debris.

"Nowhere," Harrison replied. "That's the point."

Understanding dawned as we approached the unfinished edge of the building. Beyond it was a twenty-foot drop to the adjacent structure's roof—a gap that no vehicle should attempt to cross.

"You're insane," I gasped, realizing Ryker's intention.

"Trust me," he replied, foot steady on the accelerator. "I've made bigger jumps than this."

The pursuing SUVs had realized our plan too late. They screeched to a halt at the bottom of the ramp as our van hurtled toward the edge of the unfinished floor.

Time seemed to stretch as we became airborne, the van suspended in that breathless moment between departure and arrival. My stomach lurched, weightlessness taking hold as we sailed across the gap. Royal's arm shot out, steadying me as gravity reclaimed us.

We crashed onto the adjacent roof with bone-jarring force, the van's suspension bottoming out with a sound like a gunshot. Sparks flew as metal scraped concrete, but Ryker maintained control, steering us toward a maintenance ramp on the far side.

"We made it," Harrison breathed, disbelief coloring her voice.

"Not yet," Royal cautioned, eyes still on the pursuers. One SUV had reversed, clearly intending to find another route around. The second, however, was backing up, preparing to attempt the same jump.

"They're following us," I warned as we descended the maintenance ramp, the van's brakes squealing in protest at the steep angle.

"Let them try," Ryker said grimly. "That SUV is twice our weight. Physics isn't on their side."

As if to prove his point, a tremendous crash echoed behind us. In the side mirror, I glimpsed the SUV's front-end crumpling as it fell short of the jump, plummeting to the ground below in a shower of broken glass and twisted metal.

"One down," Royal said without satisfaction. "One to go."