Sand whipped through the air like a golden tornado, stinging my face. Through the dust, I could see the soldiers waving green glow sticks, signaling the helicopter for a clear landing.

  My senses were slowly returning. The numbness in my fingers faded into a dull ache as I felt the rough edges of the zip-ties binding my wrists. I looked around frantically, desperate for an escape route, but reality crushed that hope instantly. Even if I somehow freed my hands, running through an open desert with snipers surrounding us was practically suicide.

  The heavy military chopper finally touched down with a deafening roar. The final blast of the rotor wash toppled me onto my back, my shoulders screaming in pain from the awkward angle of my tied arms.

  "Get them up," a voice barked.

  A guard grabbed the back of my collar and hauled me to my feet like a sack of potatoes. The others were yanked up beside me. The cold muzzles of assault rifles were pressed hard into our spines—a silent warning not to try anything stupid.

  "Take it easy, man," Gaurav groaned next to me. "I'm not running anywhere. If I could, I wouldn't be standing here with a gun up my ass."

  I almost laughed, but the sound died in my parched throat as the helicopter doors slid open.

  Two figures stepped out into the blinding glare of the searchlights.

  The first was an older man in a pristine white lab coat, looking completely out of place in the bloodstained desert. The second was a towering man in a sharply tailored suit. He looked like a high-end cartel enforcer. A thick, ugly scar sliced vertically through his lips, and despite it being the middle of the night, he was wearing pitch-black sunglasses. Beneath the expensive fabric of his suit, his muscles bulged, hinting at a monstrous physical strength.

  "Why is this dude wearing sunglasses at night?" Gaurav whispered, his usual lack of a filter returning.

  "Yeah, we're all wondering the same thing, Gaurav," Rekha snapped under her breath, rolling her eyes.

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  The guard behind Gaurav jabbed the rifle barrel painfully into his spine, silencing him.

  But our attention was quickly pulled away from the guards. Suddenly, without us even seeing her move, —the cold-blooded female commander—was standing right in front of the suited man.

  In a flash of silver, she had a serrated combat knife pressed directly against his throat.

  We froze, confused. Weren't they on the same team?

  The man in the suit didn't flinch. Not a single muscle in his scarred face twitched. He just stared down at her through his dark lenses, completely unfazed.

  "Mira," he said, his voice as flat and steady as an automated recording. "I am not here to waste time on your ego, nor am I here to challenge your authority in the field. I am simply here to escort the doctor, and ensure he gets what he came for."

  Mira glared at him with a hatred so pure I thought she might actually slit his throat. But, with agonizing slowness, she lowered the blade and spun it smoothly back into her thigh holster. She stepped back, crossing her arms, looking like a predator forced to share its kill.

  In the middle of this standoff, we hadn't even noticed the doctor.

  He was already kneeling in the sand, straddling the rotting, melting corpse of the monster we had barely escaped. How the stench didn't make him vomit, I had no idea.

  Then, he did something that made my stomach heave.

  Instead of putting on protective gear, the doctor reached into his pocket, pulled out a pair of latex gloves... and threw them on the ground. With his bare, wrinkled hands, he reached forward and shoved his fingers deep into the creature's slimy, jawless mouth.

  Even the hardened soldiers guarding us grimaced, shifting uncomfortably.

  I glanced at the group. Gaurav looked like he was about to pass out. Lila had her eyes squeezed shut, terrified that even looking at it would contaminate her. But Nitish and Rekha were staring with intense concentration. Nitish’s brow was deeply furrowed, his scientific mind racing a mile a minute to understand what the old man was looking for.

  Finally, the doctor pulled his slime-coated hand out of the beast. He wiped it casually on a cloth, turning back toward the SUVs.

  "Eagle-One," the doctor called out, his voice surprisingly high and squeaky. "Did you find any firearms on these captives?"

  Mira, who had returned to the hood of her SUV to light another cigarette, didn't even look at him. "Negative. They're unarmed. Mostly likely just civilian strays."

  The doctor clicked his tongue, making a creepy, disappointed sound. He looked at us, his eyes gleaming with a sick curiosity. "Is that so? Well... I think we need to invite these guests back to the Center."

  My heart dropped. The Center. Before I could even process the words, I heard the faint thwip of a compressed air gun behind me. A sharp pinch hit my neck.

  My knees instantly buckled, and the desert went dark for the second time.