[If The Panacea exhibits any hostile or suspicious behavior, no authorization is
required. Terminate her on sight.]
Jerrick's gaze darkened significantly as he read the final line.
The ship's management was utterly terrified of The Panacea.
Otherwise, they wouldn't have handed her elite security clearance while simultaneously issuing a kill order.
The more the ship feared her, the closer she was getting to the Black Sun's darkest secrets.
And now, not only could she bypass the treatment zone's security, she had unfettered access to The Sanctum Vault's Outer Perimeter.
This was the exact breach in the ship's defenses he desperately needed.
But if this woman was truly an ally of his sister, her situation was incredibly volatile.
The deeper she dug, the heavier the crosshairs on her back became.
Project Zero-Transit had handed her the keys on a silver platter.
While quietly aiming a sniper rifle squarely at her head.
Anyone fighting for his sister was fighting for him.
He needed to figure out exactly what intelligence The Panacea possessed, and then, for his sister's sake, keep her friend alive.
Jerrick lowered his eyes, snapped his terminal shut, and locked his gaze onto the treatment zone doors.
Right on cue, a faint hiss echoed down the hall.
The heavy blast doors slid open.
Silas stepped out first, looking remarkably more relaxed than when he had gone in.
Serena followed, swinging her medical kit lazily by her side.
Across the sterile corridor, The Panacea and Fenris locked eyes.
Serena's footsteps stuttered for a fraction of a second.
It was him.
She had noticed his squad stationed outside the treatment room when she first arrived.
She hadn't expected them to still be holding the perimeter.
Serena's gaze traced the imposing figure standing point.
He stood easily over six foot two, broad-shouldered and dangerously athletic.
Clad entirely in black tactical gear
and a half-mask, the only visible
feature was a pair of striking
piercing grey-blue eyes.
The two mercenaries flanking him shared the same chilling, lethal aura.
These three didn't carry themselves like standard ship thugs; they moved like elite mercenaries.
And the absolute second she stepped through the door, the leader's eyes had snapped right to her.
He was clearly waiting specifically for her.
Serena didn't miss a beat. She kept walking, her pace slow and deliberate.
The man's stance, the sheer weight of his stare... for some inexplicable reason, it felt hauntingly familiar.
Yet those grey-blue eyes were a complete mystery to her.
But what really stood out was his breathing. It was far too controlled. His positioning was flawless.
From the moment she crossed the threshold.
He had simultaneously dominated the main corridor, the side exits, and every single viable escape route she possessed.
That wasn't a standard mercenary tactic.
It was the deeply ingrained instinct of a man forged in the highest echelons of the military.
None of these sharp deductions leaked onto Serena's face.
She maintained her brooding, apathetic mask, looking as though she were merely glancing at a minor roadblock.
As Serena analyzed Jerrick, Jerrick was simultaneously dissecting her.
The Panacea. His designated target.
And the woman connected to his sister.
She was young, clutching a
silver-and-black medical kit. Her face was beautifully delicate but
sickeningly pale radiating a deeply unsettling, suffocating darkness.
But it was her eyes that truly stood out-swirling with a dangerous, almost diseased brand of insanity.
She looked like a powder keg waiting to detonate, fully capable of doing something utterly psychotic at any moment.
Every instinct in his body screamed that she was lethal.
But as the commander of Drake, the Federal Defense Command's apex special forces unit, Jerrick was
trained to catch micro movements, and he sensed something
fundamentally wrong...