Page 31

The stairs were gritty underfoot.

Leo swept his flashlight beam downward, revealing bare concrete worn smooth by years of passage. He moved ahead of Kat, descending two more flights, his breath misting in the dense cold. Goosebumps prickled across his forearms—the sterile chill of deliberate refrigeration.

He paused on the final subterranean landing, his flashlight beam illuminating a single unmarked door. The metal handle was cool against his palm as he tested it.

Unlocked.

Good or bad?

He eased it open a fraction. Silent hinges. Professional-grade. The darkness beyond was absolute, swallowing his flashlight beam.

His fingers found the snap on his holster, the metallic click shattering the brittle silence. They weren’t here for heroics. Just data. Get proof, get out.

With a slow exhale, he stepped through.

Motion sensors triggered instantly—white lights cascading down the corridor, bouncing off surgical-clean walls.

Leo lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the sudden glare.

“What the hell?” Kat pressed close behind him.

The corridor stretched ahead, antiseptic and pristine. A muted electrical hum vibrated through the soles of his boots. The air carried the sharp scent of lemon disinfectant.

“Stay close.” The weight of his weapon was reassuring against his ribs.

Kat ghosted his steps as they advanced past a series of unmarked doors. He tested handles at random—some locked, others opening into empty hospital bays with complex equipment standing ready.

On a glass board, handwritten formulas and notes. Neural scaffolding , cochlear re-mapping , implant rejection markers .

Hair pricked on the back of his neck.

What the hell?

“It’s not empty.” Kat’s voice barely disturbed the air.

He gave a brief nod of agreement. “Maintained.”

Voices materialized ahead—the clipped tones of people who belonged here.

Coming this way.

Kat tugged his sleeve, yanking open a door to their right. Before he could move to protect her, she slipped inside.

His jaw cramped as she disappeared. Two steps ahead of him—again.

He followed swiftly, the urge to shield her burning beneath his skin.

He eased the door closed with a soft click just as the voices grew distinct.

Leo flattened himself against the wall beside the door handle while Kat took position on the opposite side, her Glock now held across her chest.

Shadows flickered beneath the door. Laughter drifted past.

Then nothing.

Kat released a hissing breath. “Too close.”

Leo swept his flashlight across their surroundings—supply shelves, monitoring equipment, and rumpled white shapes hanging from a rack. He swept back, recognition clicking into place.

Lab coats.

He grabbed two and tossed one to Kat. He pulled the other over his dark clothes, the fabric stretching tight across his shoulders but adequately concealing his weapon.

Kat pocketed her hat and shrugged into hers, tucking her Glock beneath the thick white polyester.

The plastic name tag clipped to her pocket identified her as Dr. Trig Hughes.

He met her gaze. “Ready?”

She nodded, scooping up a clipboard and pen from a nearby shelf before they stepped back into the corridor together. Two more anonymous medical personnel in a facility that shouldn’t exist.

They rounded a corner as a PA system blared to life overhead. “All Nightshade team members report immediately to Briefing Center A.”

Leo slowed. Doors opened and the corridor ahead flooded with personnel, white clad scientists and black security uniforms, hurrying toward a large set of double doors.

“Follow my lead.” Leo straightened his borrowed lab coat as he snatched a tablet from an unmanned workstation.

They merged into the flow of bodies, keeping their heads down. No one questioned them—everyone too focused on the alert.

The crowd funneled into a tiered conference room with screens on every wall. Leo steered Kat to seats near the back, where they could see everything but remain inconspicuous.

He sat, angling the stolen tablet as if reviewing data.

A man in his fifties with wire-rimmed glasses took position at the front, sweat gleaming on his brow.

The room fell silent.

“During the initiation of phase one, we detected anomalous activity in London, Test Zone One.” The man fidgeted needlessly with his glasses. “The broadcast parameters have exceeded containment protocols.”

The central screen behind him activated, showing a map of London’s financial district with overlapping signal patterns in pulsing blue.

A woman in the front row raised a hand. “The neural influence was supposed to remain contained within the five-block test radius. The signal degradation should have prevented wider transmission.”

“Yes.” The spectacled man pushed his glasses further up his nose. “We’re detecting resonance patterns across a seventeen-block radius. And expanding. Possibly a harmonic overlap from adjacent Wi-Fi signals.”

Kat tensed beside Leo as chatter broke out in the crowd.

The man at the front raised a hand for silence. Finally, the crowd settled, but concerned looks flashed between members of the audience that spread like ice through Leo’s veins.

A portly man stood up, his lab coat stretched over his abdomen. “Show us the behavioral data.”

The man on stage jerked a nod toward a technician seated at the side of the stage with a laptop.

The screen shifted to a series of graphs and CCTV footage of ordinary Londoners going about their morning—commuters on platforms, baristas serving coffee, office workers entering buildings.

Kat reached for his hand, her fingers looping into his as the footage progressed—commuters slowing mid-stride, baristas staring too long, schoolchildren turning their heads in perfect sync.

Children.

Leo blinked hard, forcing down the burn rising behind his eyes. He hadn’t been fast enough before. He would be this time.

“Subjects within the broadcast field are showing a thirty percent increase in suggestibility.” The man pointed with a laser. “The effect intensifies near smart devices, which are signal amplifiers.”

The room erupted again in loud murmurs.

“We need to shut it down,” someone called out. “If the test parameters have been exceeded?—”

“We will do no such thing,” interrupted a new voice. A woman in a tailored green business suit strode down the center aisle. “We will continue with data collection as originally planned.” She turned and faced the assembled audience, her eyes dark, her mouth a slash of crimson.

“Dr. Reynolds,” the woman addressed the man at the front. “Remind us of the current neural effect profile.”

Reynolds blinked behind his glasses and shifted from foot to foot.

“Professor Garner.” His head bobbed. “Of course. As designed, the broadcast creates subtle shifts in thought patterns—not direct control like Raptor’s original microchip technology.

Subjects maintain the illusion of autonomy while becoming increasingly receptive to embedded suggestions. ”

He clicked to a new slide, showing brain scans.

“The amygdala shows heightened activity, along with suppression in the prefrontal cortex—the areas governing emotional response and critical thinking, respectively.”

“And younger subjects?” she asked.

A hush fell over the room, and Leo’s pulse hammered.

Reynolds’s finger hovered over the button before advancing to the next slide.

“As expected, subjects under twenty-five show significantly higher susceptibility. Neural plasticity makes them ideal receivers. In test subjects aged eight to sixteen, we’re seeing nearly double the response rate of adults. ”

Leo dragged in a breath. Children. They’re actually fucking targeting children.

“Excellent.” Garner made a semblance of a smile, but her eyes were dead. “And phase two?”

Reynolds directed his pointer to the screen.

Nightshade Deployment.

Phase Two.

NATO Defense ministers summit.

And along the bottom of the slide, a list of file names.

Kat’s sharp intake of breath hit Leo’s awareness. Her fingers clenched against his palm.

“NX-7782.” Her words barely reached him despite her closeness.She’d taken her burner from her pocket and subtly angled it, shielding it with the clipboard. Her fingers tapped the screen in quick succession, snapping a series of photos.

“What is it?” He kept his gaze locked forward.

She gave a fractional shake of her head. “Later.”

“I can confirm the immediate preparation for deployment. The broadcast is scheduled for during the London NATO summit.” Reynolds shuffled from foot to foot, his gaze darting all over the damn place. “Following on from this, we will proceed with expanding deployment at Test Zone Two.”

Leo fought the urge to storm down to the stage and shake the bastard by the neck.

“Using the ministers’ own devices as transmission points, the subtle influence should alter security assessments and policy decisions without detection. This test will allow us to take the product to market ready.”

“But the expansion we’re seeing in London during phase one suggests we don’t have full control of the broadcast range.” The portly man flapped a large handkerchief against his forehead. “If this activates across all of central London during the summit?—”

The green suited woman jerked her head and two security agents moved in, each hooking one of his arms.

The portly man squawked as they marched him from the room. The door slammed loudly behind them as they exited.

What the hell?

“Dr. Smith’s concerns have been duly noted.” The woman scanned the room. “Anyone else?”

Silence settled like freezing fog.

Kat squeezed Leo’s fingers.

“Now.” Garner gave a nod of approval at the lack of dissent.

“We need the final calibration data. Those of you on the signal modulation team remain for detailed instructions. Everyone else, return to your stations and prepare for deployment. I don’t need to remind you that this project remains classified at the highest level. ”

People began rising, a muted churn of movement in the wake of the portly man’s forced exit. Leo stood, still holding Kat’s hand as they prepared to merge into the dispersing crowd.

Almost clear.

An authoritative voice cut through the buzz.

“Dr. Hughes.”

Kat froze mid-step.

Shit. Leo’s pulse slammed in his throat as he bumped up against her.

A tall man in a security uniform—dark beard, hawkish eyes—stood near the exit. His arms were folded, his gaze locked on Kat’s name tag.

“I don’t remember approving your clearance for today’s briefing.” His hand hovered close to the holster on his hip.

“We were pulled in late.” Leo lifted the stolen tablet. “Signal calibration audit. Dr. Reynolds wanted redundancy on?—”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” The man blanked Leo and paced closer.

Kat lifted her chin. “I was reassigned this week. Interim coverage.”

The guard arched a brow. “Hughes left earlier. Family emergency.”

Fuck. Not now. So close.

Kat’s eyes flicked to Leo.

Run.