The black SUV cut its headlights as it rolled to a quiet stop near the perimeter fence of the Black Veil's rural facility. Fog hung low over the pine trees, thick as grief. Vivienne stepped out, her boots crunching against gravel, heart hammering harder than it had at Everett's funeral.
Julian handed her a comms piece. "Once we're in, stay close. If we split, don't go far. Morales will watch the gate."
Morales checked his sidearm. "You've got twenty-five minutes before internal patrols sweep back this way."
Vivienne nodded. "Let's move."
---
They crawled through the underbrush, then scaled the fence using an old ladder Morales had stashed days before. Once over, the air changed—cold, clinical, and still. The facility looked abandoned from the outside, but the power hum and heat rising from vents said otherwise.
They slipped inside through a utility entrance, tripping no alarms. That alone unsettled Vivienne. It was too easy.
The hallways were sterile white. Windows frosted. Lights dim.
Julian led the way, tracking Everett's old notes. "Third level. There's a lab marked S-3. That's where they kept classified medical trials."
They passed a corridor labeled SY-1.
Vivienne slowed. "Sypher."
Julian hesitated. "We don't have time—"
She pushed open the door.
Inside were sealed glass cases, broken restraints, and an empty hospital bed.
But the walls…
They were covered with photographs. Patient records. Test groups. One photo made her knees buckle.
Everett. Younger. Sitting beside a bed. Holding someone's hand.
A girl. Pale, eyes closed. Alive.
Julian stepped beside her. "My God… He knew one of the patients."
Vivienne stared.
"No," she whispered. "He loved one."
---
They pulled files from the drawers, snapping pictures, stuffing flash drives into pockets. Evidence mounted: genetic alterations, selective immunity tests, transmission engineering.
"This wasn't medicine," Julian said. "This was a purge."
Footsteps echoed from down the hall.
"Move," Vivienne whispered. "Now."
They dashed out, ducking behind cabinets as guards passed. One paused. Looked around.
But didn't see them.
Morales's voice crackled in their ears: "You've got ten minutes. Incoming drone sweep. Exit's going to close."
They reached the stairs—only to find two men in black suits waiting at the top.
No Veil pins. Just silence.
"Run," Julian barked.
Vivienne turned, but the flash of a taser met her vision.
Darkness.
---
She woke to cold metal beneath her cheek and the buzz of fluorescent lights above. Her hands were cuffed.
Across from her, a woman stood, elegant in charcoal gray.
"Mrs. Hart. You never disappoint."
Vivienne's lips were cracked. "Morrow."
Evelyn Morrow smiled. "We warned you. You ran anyway. You came here anyway. I admire the resilience. But I don't tolerate it."
She stepped closer.
"You found Sypher. That's unfortunate. But not irreversible. You'll disappear, just like the others."
Vivienne's mouth twisted. "Why kill me now? The press knows I was here. Julian—"
"Oh," Morrow interrupted, "we have him too."
Vivienne's heart lurched.
"But unlike you, he's not our priority." Morrow leaned closer. "You see, Everett wasn't just your husband. He was our greatest liability. And you've done a marvelous job inheriting that."
She turned to leave.
"Erase her," she told the guards.
---
Gunshots rang out.
Vivienne flinched—but it wasn't her blood.
The guards dropped.
Morales stood in the doorway, smoking pistol in hand.
"Move!"
He yanked her up, cut her cuffs. "Julian's still alive. South wing. We've got three minutes."
They ran.
Alarms wailed.
Julian limped out of a side room, face bruised, but holding a small steel box.
"I got it," he rasped. "Everything. Hard drives. Experiments. Witness lists."
They burst through a back entrance as drones swooped overhead.
Gunfire hissed past them.
Morales shoved Vivienne ahead.
"Go!"
They leapt into the SUV.
Tires screamed. Gravel flew.
They didn't stop until they hit the state line.
---
Two days later, Vivienne stood in a D.C. hotel room, staring at the steel box.
Julian sat nearby, icing his jaw. Morales stood watch at the window.
Vivienne pressed play on the laptop.
Everett's voice filled the room.
"If you're hearing this, I'm dead. And you're in more danger than you know."
He explained everything.
Sypher had started as a cure—for a rare disease. But once the Veil saw its potential to target populations, they twisted it. Built strains. Tested them on unwilling patients.
"And then," Everett said softly, "they found out I was going to blow the whistle. I told one person. Vivienne. If she's alive, believe her."
Vivienne's eyes flooded.
She whispered, "I'm still alive, Everett. And I believe you."