Matthew knew something was wrong the moment he arrived.
The base—one of his oldest, most secure underground facilities—should have been sealed. Three layers of biometric locks. Armed guards at all times. Surveillance that never blinked.
Yet the iron doors stood open.
Not forced.
Not damaged.
Just… open.
The kind of open that made the blood drain from his face.
"Clear the perimeter," Matthew snapped the second his boots hit the concrete. His voice was sharp, controlled, but inside him something ugly reared its head. "Now."
His men moved instantly, weapons raised, fanning out with practiced precision. The air inside the base was cold and stale, lights humming softly overhead. Too quiet. No alarms. No signs of struggle.
That was worse.
Matthew didn't wait.
He ran.
The holding room was at the far end of the corridor. Matthew's heart slammed against his ribs as he reached it, already bracing for the worst.
The door slid open.
Aiden was there.
Alive.
