Chapter 39
Ronan stepped out of the car and took a long, slow breath.
He was back to this cursed place. He looked around, and his brows furrowed as he noticed sothing weird.
The last ti he had co here, he had left it in almost total ruins. Broken walls, blood trails, and anything to prove that sothing destructive had torn through the facility.
But now, the whole place looked completely intact, no sign of repairs. there’s usually a big difference between when sothing was replaced and when it vanished without a trace. There was no sign of the walls getting patched or recently painted. It looked exactly the sa as he t it last ti.
Ti reversal.
That’s the only thing that made sense. That system user he killed during the mission had reset the entire building like pressing rewind on a tape. If he had taken that skill back then, maybe his team wouldn’t have ended up the way they did. Maybe he could’ve saved the one that died.
But his mind hadn’t been thinking straight. Not after what happened. All he could think about was getting back to them before anything else went wrong. And by the ti he realized what he passed up, it was already too late.
Ronan scanned the area. Guards were posted all around the building, standing stiff like statues, ard and ready. You could tell just by looking at them that they were ready for anything.
He walked up to the main entrance.
The mont he reached the door, two guards moved in imdiately to block him.
"Halt," one said. "No visitors allowed."
Ronan didn’t even look at them. His eyes locked on the black cara above the doorway. He knew who was watching.
"He knows I’m coming," Ronan said calmly, keeping his gaze fixed on the lens. "Tell him I’m here now. He’s always wanted to et , hasn’t he?"
The guards hesitated as they exchanged glances, confused.
"No visitors allowed," the second one repeated, stepping forward. "Please leave before we make you."
Ronan ignored them.
He just kept looking up at the cara like he was speaking directly to the bastard behind it.
And then the doors slid open.
A man in a suit stepped out, clean-cut, slick, and definitely not just another staff mber.
"Let him in," he said. "He’s a VIP guest."
The guards instantly stepped aside, visibly shaken. One of them actually lowered his head.
"Yes, sir. Apologies."
Ronan raised an eyebrow.
"VIP guest?" he muttered under his breath.
He didn’t dwell on it. He already knew what this was about. The man inside had been dying to get Ronan in his grasp. Not for a handshake or for conversation. For experints,for twisted plans that Ronan didn’t even want to imagine.
As he walked through the building, he noticed everything was too perfect. Too clean. The hallway tiles were polished to a shine. Not a single piece of equipnt was out of place. The air slled faintly like bleach and tal.
And the guards, just like outside lined the hallway like statues. Watching and waiting...on high alert.
Ronan knew that it wouldn’t be easy to escape from here if he tried. Or maybe it would. Afterall, his system had evolved into sothing far greater now, much better than before.
They reached an elevator. The man in the suit pressed his palm to a scanner. The door slid open and they stepped inside.
The elevator dropped.
Fast.
Underground.
As it descended, the hum of the walls grew louder, like they were going deeper than they should. Ronan could feel the shift in the air pressure, cold and heavy.
The doors finally opened to a narrow corridor. Dim lights buzzed overhead, and the floor was smooth steel. Every footstep echoed.
Then, the man stopped in front of a large tallic door.
He typed a code, scanned his eye, and pressed a final button.
A hiss followed and the door opened.
It was dark.
Pitch black.
Ronan stepped in slowly. Imdiately, he could hear the sound of machines. Beeping. Low, steady. Monitors, pumps, and what sounded like the soft hum of wires working nonstop.
He couldn’t see anything yet.
Just sounds. And an awful sll—like chemicals, blood, and rust all mixed together.
He took a slow step forward, and decided to try sothing he wasn’t sure would work.
"System..." he muttered. "Turn on the lights."
Acknowledged.
In the next second, the lights blinked on.
And what he saw made his stomach drop.
At the center of the room sat a man. He wasn’t unconscious, he was awake and alive.
But he was barely hanging on.
Dozens of thick tubes were jamd into his body,one straight into his chest, another at his neck, two in each arm. Wires ran from his head down to machines that beeped in response to every weak breath he took.
He was strapped to a steel chair that looked more like a dical torture device than a seat.
His eyes, bloodshot, sunken, and dull—stared directly at Ronan.
Ronan took a slow step back, his heart hamring in his chest. It didn’t take much to know who that pathetic man sitting before him was. But then, his eyes landed on what surrounded the man.
Rows of tall, glass tanks, dozens of them.
Each one filled with a thick, greenish fluid that bubbled softly.
And inside each tank... was a person whose faces weren’t visible.
Floating.
Unmoving.
But they were all males.
Their eyes were closed. Tubes ran into their mouths. So had cables drilled into their backs. A few of them twitched slightly—still alive. Still breathing.
Ronan’s hands curled into fists as he turned in place, looking at tank after tank.
There had to be at least thirty of them.
Human beings.
Used like lab rats.
And the man in the chair... this sick bastard... he was the one who oversaw all of it.
Ronan couldn’t even speak.
For once, he didn’t have words. His thoughts were all tangled, rage, shock, disgust, disbelief.
He looked back at the man in the chair.
The bastard smiled.
Like he was glad that he’d finally gotten the trophy he long awaited.
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