After what felt like an eternity—two hours stretched into a silence so thick it scraped against my nerves—we finally rolled up to the area marked in the folder. The headlights washed over a road carved into the mountainside, the looming facility above us impossible to miss. The CARGO Foundation was a massive cylindrical tower, glowing with sterile white lights that pierced through the dusk. It looked less like a building and more like some alien lighthouse, casting its beam across the Maine wilderness.

  “Kay’, here’s what we’re looking for.” Nikki’s voice cut through the silence as she flipped through the folder like it was a magazine she’d memorized. “Marcus Lowman. Brown hair. Defined jawline. White glasses. Striking blue eyes. I want to find him.”

  “Understood…” Tisiah’s answer was curt but steady. Nikki gave him a smile. “Thanks, Tisiah.”

  Mari steered the vehicle into a shadowy alcove beneath an outcropping of rock that jutted out conveniently over the road. The way it covered us was almost cinematic—too good to be coincidence. She shut off the engine. “Okay, let’s go.”

  We piled out, boots crunching against the gravel. Everyone gathered around the trunk, the cold air scraping across the back of my neck.

  Mari broke the silence again. “Now comes the question… how do we find him?” She muttered it, but loud enough that none of us missed it.

  “Infiltrating,” Nikki said, flat and bold.

  “With what clothes?” Mari shot back instantly, her tone sharp. “We can’t just barge in there and not expect to get shot.”

  Nikki smiled slyly and turned to Tisiah. He nodded wordlessly. They had that telepathic thing going on again, sentences traded silently like poker cards. Tisiah produced a pair of binoculars from nowhere—gear I hadn’t even seen him stash.

  The chuckle he gave me once he caught my expression said it all: Yeah, you missed that one.

  Nikki lifted the binoculars to her eyes. The squeal of the zoom carried across the quiet night. The sound itself made my stomach knot, like each squeak confirmed how much trouble we were really in.

  “Oh… oh… oh…” Nikki muttered. Her commentary did nothing for my nerves.

  “Okay, so you’re looking at some very heavily armed men,” she explained casually. “Possibly bulletproof armor.”

  Mari groaned, stomped forward, and planted herself in front of Nikki. “How exactly do you expect us to get that as clothing?” she demanded. For once, I couldn’t help but agree with her.

  Nikki just grinned. “Simple.”

  She flicked her wand, and with one smooth arc, uniforms materialized in the air—four sets of identical clothing matching the guards’ gear, minus the guns.

  The wand blinked, and we all leaned closer instinctively. Her MP bar ticked up by thirty-four points, filling about a sixth of the gauge.

  I had never felt so irrationally thrilled in my life.

  Mari’s eyes widened, though her voice stayed flat. “Sure…” she said slowly. “You forgot the guns.”

  “Illusions can’t go that far to shooting bullets,” Nikki countered with a shrug.

  Mari let out another sigh, clearly done arguing. “Put these on, and let’s go.”

  The uniforms weighed me down the moment I slipped into mine. It wasn’t just uncomfortable—it was oppressive, like I’d strapped a horse across my shoulders. We trudged up the steep incline toward the facility, every step burning through my legs.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  If I didn’t shed at least fifteen pounds from this climb, I swore I’d riot. This was easily the hardest part of the mission.

  At the gate, two guards in the same armor Nikki had described approached. Rifles strapped to their chests, helmets gleaming under the lights, voices steady.

  “Where’s your vehicle?” one asked.

  “Gone. Blown up,” Tisiah replied without hesitation. “We were attacked. Not sure by who. They had black clothes and vests. We barely escaped.”

  “What about your radios?”

  “Crushed.”

  The guards exchanged a look.

  “Get inside and report to the supervisor. We’ll send a team. Location?”

  “There isn’t an exact one,” Tisiah said smoothly. “But they were on that road. They could be coming here.”

  Thank God for these helmets. The shock on my face alone would’ve betrayed us.

  “Alright, open it. Quick!” The gates yawned wide. Relief washed through me in an almost physical wave as we stepped inside.

  The door we approached next was absurdly wide, a slab of metal the size of two flatscreen TVs lined side by side. Who needed a door this wide? Giants? Entire herds of scientists? I muttered internally: Get some help, please.

  “Okay,” Mari said, voice firm. “Remember. Brown hair. Jawline. Striking blue eyes. Understood?”

  We nodded in sync.

  “Tisiah, you’re with me. Nikki, you’re with Cory.”

  I sucked in a deep breath. And another.

  The lobby greeted us with its sterile perfection. Brown desks stretched in a line, paired with endless rows of chairs. At the far end, a giant sculpture of a bird coiled in a ribbon loomed like some emblem of science and arrogance.

  The floor was gleaming white marble sprinkled with black dots. Honestly, the entire place was white. White walls, white lights, white ceilings. It was like walking inside a bleach bottle.

  “What are we looking at?” Nikki muttered beside me, voice low.

  Scientists moved everywhere—most of them in pristine white suits with black undershirts and name tags. Their eyes drifted toward us, and the weight of their stares sat heavy on my shoulders. Two oversized guards stomping into their pristine sanctuary wasn’t exactly subtle.

  Then Nikki tapped me.

  I looked over. She gestured toward one of the women at the check-in desk. Blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, pale clear skin. A face that seemed too easy to sketch, too symmetrical.

  We approached. “Something wrong?” the woman asked.

  Nikki chuckled lightly. “No, no. We just need to find Marcus Lowman. He’s possibly in danger.”

  The woman’s expression shifted instantly, smile dissolving into concern. “Oh… uh. Do you want me to call him down, or—”

  “Yeah, sure. Most definitely,” Nikki said smoothly.

  “Alright, let me call him down for you.”

  Nikki nodded, but suspicion laced her features. I caught it too. Beneath a stack of disorganized papers sat a small intercom device—like the kind retail workers use in clothing stores. Hidden, but not well enough. She could call him right from here.

  “Yeah,” Nikki added casually, “let’s accompany you. Just in case.”

  The woman’s eyes widened, but she forced a smile. “Of course. I’ve just… never been in a situation like this.”

  “Understandable,” Nikki replied, her nod almost gentle.

  We followed her across the lobby to the elevator. She pressed the button with a kind of odd grace, almost elegant in the way her hand lingered. The doors slid open, and we stepped inside.

  She pressed a gray button, and the elevator jolted, doors snapping shut aggressively before rising.

  “Has something bad happened?” she asked nervously. “Guards usually symbolize that, so I—”

  “Something of concern. Not bad,” Nikki corrected. Her tone was light, almost comforting. I imagined the smile hidden behind her helmet.

  “I certainly hope so,” she murmured.

  I leaned forward, eyes dropping to her badge. Tilli. The name was old-fashioned, unusual. It stuck in my head immediately.

  The elevator dinged, doors parting to reveal a hallway lined in muted blues. Blue walls, black doors, darker blue carpet. The color scheme was… oddly satisfying.

  Scientists drifted past us in pairs, their conversations hushed.

  Tilli led us to the right, stopped at a brown door, and glanced at us before pushing it open.

  Inside was a modest lab. A large window stretched across the far wall. At a desk, folding his white coat neatly, was someone unmistakably younger—barely eighteen.

  “He’s an intern here. Marcus,” Tilli said.

  Marcus looked up. He gave a smile so warm it felt disarming. And then I saw his eyes.

  Those bright blue eyes.

  It was like staring at a sea with its own tide pulling directly at my soul. Spirits whispered inside them, voices I couldn’t place.

  “Thank you… for… coming—with us, but you’re—good now,” Nikki said haltingly. Her gaze lingered on Marcus longer than it should have before flicking back to Tilli with a polite smile.

  Tilli nodded. Then she closed the door.

  And locked it.

  The air shifted instantly. The atmosphere thickened, heavy with a new tension. Concern turned into raw suspense.

  “Well. I assume this is the concern,” Nikki muttered, shooting me a quick glance.

  Tilli’s hand moved fluidly. The metallic click rang like a bell of doom.

  She had pulled out a gun, both hands steady.

  “Hands up.”