Of course.
The bunker appears beneath an abandoned Romanian communications station north of the river.
Cold War architecture.
Concrete towers.
Rusting satellite dishes.
Officially abandoned since the 1990s.
Which means Sentinel probably loved it.
“Security?” Russ asks.
Gabriel zooms the tablet screen inward.
“Military-grade.”
“Internal blast sectors.”
“Biometric locks.”
“A containment wing.”
A pause.
“And a black-level research floor.”
The word research makes my stomach twist.
Children weren’t patients here.
They were experiments.
Clay notices my expression immediately.
His hand tightens once around mine.
Still there.
Still anchoring me.
Gabriel’s eyes shift toward me carefully.
“There’s more.”
I already hate that sentence.
“The lower levels contain Ascension archives.”
My pulse spikes hard.
“What kind of archives?”
Gabriel hesitates.
Then:
