Page 97 of Property of Crypt Keeper

Metal shrieked and the hinges gave way. The entire door crashed into the laboratory floor with a deafening boom.

“Kings!” he roared. “Move!”

Everything happened at once. Years of military-like precision, motorcycle-club chaos, and supernatural speed came together.

Hack sprinted toward the nearest computer terminal before the dust even settled. “Give me thirty seconds!”

Boomslang pointed without slowing. “Download what they were working on, then destroy every server.”

He pointed again. “Find prisoners.”

Zeus and Bronx split left. Thing One and Spook peeled right. Mako and Dexter charged deeper into the laboratory.

Then—“Katalina.”

I looked at him as he scooped up Zara.

“Find Crypt.”

I was already running.

The laboratory was much larger than I’d imagined. Hall after hall. Observation rooms. Operating theaters. Recovery rooms. Storage.

Everywhere… white, spotless, clinical.

It smelled like bleach. Yet beneath that… blood and fear. Bodies had occupied these rooms. I knew it. I could feel it.

Metal examination tables stood abandoned beneath bright lights. Restraint chairs. Surgical instruments. Rows of refrigerated samples. In shock, I paused for a moment.

Labels. Hundreds of labels. Species. Blood type. Mutation class. Viability. Success probability.

My stomach rolled as the magnitude of this place settled in.

Behind me—glass exploded. Someone shouted. Gunfire. A roar. That kicked me into motion again.

Then, Hack yelled from somewhere behind me, “I’ve got the servers!”

Boomslang answered immediately. “Once we have Crypt… burn everything.”

It seemed like an eternity by the time I reached the first holding ward.

Empty.

Second. Empty.

Third. Empty. “Damn it,” I cursed as I kept moving.

Where were they? Where was?—

Something hit the wall behind me. Hard. A low growl followed.

I turned. One of the failures. It stood nearly eight feet tall. Its spine bent sideways beneath skin stitched together by scars instead of nature.

Like one of the abominable creatures in the catacombs, one arm ended in claws. The other looked almost human. Almost.

Its eyes met mine. There was intelligence there. Buried beneath agony. Black blood poured from a massive wound in its chest. Thick and dark, it dripped to the floor. Something or someone had tried to kill it. And it wasn’t us.

It didn’t attack. It simply stared. Then… very slowly… it lifted one trembling hand and pointed. Down the hallway to the left. Toward a pair of reinforced doors. Then it collapsed against the wall, shaking.