Chapter 10
The heavy steel reinforcement doors of the Sterling manor slammed shut with a thunderous echo, the electronic deadbolts sliding into place with a series of sharp, mechanical clicks. Arthur threw his weight against the mahogany reinforcement bar, locking the massive entryway just as the heavy thud of tactical boots hit the front porch outside.
“Dad, over here! Bring him to the study sofa!” Chloe called out, her voice echoing through the dimly lit hallway as she hurried ahead, cradling Leo’s limp form against her chest.
Arthur rushed behind her, his heart hammering against his ribs. They laid the boy down gently on the velvet-upholstered couch. Leo’s face was deathly pale, his breathing alarmingly shallow, and his legs remained twisted in that unnatural, paralyzed angle that Chloe knew all too well. It was a cruel mirror image of her own past, a visual manifestation of the ultimate sacrifice.
“Get the medical kit from my desk drawer!” Arthur instructed sharply, already tearing open the collar of Leo’s ragged shirt to check his pulse.
Chloe sprinted across the room, her sparkly shoes clicking rhythmically against the hardwood floor. She grabbed the heavy steel medical case and rushed back, dropping to her knees beside her father.
Outside, the heavy thumping on the front doors intensified, accompanied by the grating whine of a high-frequency cutting torch slicing through the exterior steel plating. Sparks began to rain against the glass sidelights of the entryway, casting a frantic, orange glow through the foyer.
“They’re cutting through the main locks, Dad!” Chloe yelled over the deafening noise, her hands flying across the clasps of the medical kit to pull out an intravenous saline bag and an emergency neural stimulant. “We only have a few minutes before they breach!”
Arthur pressed the digital scanner against Leo’s chest once more, watching the blinking red beacon on the boy’s trousers. The screen flashed a new, terrifying warning: CRITICAL_THRESHOLD_REACHED: 89% PARALYSIS MIGRATION.
“We have to reverse the bridge,” Arthur muttered, sweat beading on his forehead as his fingers flew across the diagnostic interface. “The prototype microchip isn't just tracking him—it’s tethered to the foundation’s main server downtown. If we can hack into the local relay router in the basement, we can force a system override and pull the data back.”
Chloe stopped mid-motion, her eyes widening in realization.
“The basement server room,” she said quickly. “The one mom used to keep locked before... before the accident.”
Arthur nodded grimly, the painful memory of his late wife flashing behind his eyes. Dr. Evelyn Vance hadn't just been a medical researcher; she had been the whistle-blower who tried to shut down the very experiments Arthur’s board was now trying to finish.
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“I’ll go down to the basement and hack the router,” Arthur said, standing up and grabbing a heavy brass fire iron from the hearth. “You stay here. Watch him. Don't let anyone in, no matter what.”
Before Chloe could answer, the front door’s steel reinforcement bar snapped with an ear-splitting crack, and the heavy entryway doors blew inward in a cloud of smoke and splintered wood.
