Chapter 450:

Static crackled. Then, a cold voice cut through.

“Poseidon 4. You are off schedule. Manifest states arrival at 0800 hours. Current time is 0630. Explain.”

Aurora signaled Elias. He nodded.

“Engine trouble, Control,” Julian lied smoothly. “Had to push the turbines to make up time. We have perishables. Isotopes are destabilizing. If we don’t dock, the cargo is spoiled.”

There was a long silence. The tension on the bridge was palpable.

“Hold position,” the voice said. “Scanning.”

A blue beam of light swept over the ship from a drone hovering invisible in the clouds above.

“Thermal shielding holding,” Elias whispered.

“Scan complete,” the voice returned. “Proceed to Docking Bay B. Prepare for inspection.”

“Copy that,” Julian said, exhaling a breath he had been holding for a minute.

“Inspection,” Aurora murmured. “That’s the choke point.”

“We have a plan,” Elias reminded her. He checked his sidearm, hidden beneath his oilskin coat. “We are the crew. We unload the crates. The crates contain the surprise.”

The island emerged from the mist like a jagged tooth. It was black rock, topped with a sleek, brutalist concrete structure that looked more like a prison than a research facility.

They docked. The massive steel doors of the bay ground open.

Armed guards in white tactical gear stood waiting. They didn’t look like private security. They looked like zealots.

Aurora walked down the gangplank, carrying a clipboard. She channeled every ounce of arrogance she had learned from Sterling Thorne.

“You’re late opening the doors,” she snapped at the lead guard. “My isotopes are degrading. Who signs for this?”

C𝗈ntєnt h🅾stєd 🅐t g𝓪l𝑛ovєls.𝓬0𝓶

The guard stared at her through his visor. “ID.”

Aurora held up the forged ID card Julian had printed. The guard scanned it.

Beep. Green light.

“Clear,” the guard grunted. “Unload. Fast.”

Elias and two of Master Wei’s crew began wheeling the large, metal crates down the ramp.

“Careful!” Aurora barked. “That’s worth more than your life.”

They pushed the crates into the loading zone, deep inside the facility.

“That’s far enough,” the guard said. “Leave them. We take it from here.”

“Protocol says I have to verify the temperature sensors inside before transfer of custody,” Aurora argued.

“Protocol has changed,” a new voice said.

A man walked out of the shadows. He wore a pristine white suit that clashed violently with the industrial surroundings. He was tall, thin, and had eyes that seemed to contain no pupils.

“The Gardener,” Aurora whispered.

“Miss Vance,” the man said, smiling a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I didn’t expect you to deliver yourself. It saves me the trouble of hunting you.”

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