Adrian barely slept.
The Bureau had placed him in a small room several floors above the containment chamber. The walls were plain concrete, interrupted only by a narrow window and a single clock mounted above the door.
Twelve numbers.
Perfectly normal.
But the ticking in his chest continued.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
He sat on the edge of the bed staring at the wall.
Thirteen days.
That number had a strange weight to it. Not immediate enough to feel urgent, but close enough that it refused to leave his mind.
A knock sounded at the door.
Crowe entered without waiting.
“You look terrible.”
Adrian rubbed his eyes.
“I just found out I’m carrying some kind of invisible bomb in my chest.”
Crowe leaned against the wall.
“You’re not dying.”
“Comforting.”
Crowe studied him for a moment.
“You're handling this better than most people.”
Adrian gave a tired smile.
“I’m still deciding if this is a nightmare or a psychological experiment.”
Crowe didn't respond.
The ticking continued.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Then the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
The entire room vibrated slightly.
Adrian looked up.
“Tell me that’s normal.”
Crowe straightened immediately.
“That’s not normal.”
The hallway alarms erupted.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
A harsh metallic sound echoed through the corridor outside.
Crowe moved to the door and opened it.
Agents rushed past them.
A distorted voice crackled through the intercom.
“Containment breach in Sector Three.”
Crowe muttered something under his breath.
Adrian stood up.
“Containment breach of what?”
Crowe was already moving down the hallway.
“Something that wasn't supposed to wake up.”
Adrian followed him.
The corridor was alive with movement now. Agents grabbed equipment from wall lockers while others ran toward the elevators.
“Stay here,” Crowe said.
Adrian shook his head.
“No chance.”
Crowe stopped walking.
“You don’t understand what’s down there.”
Adrian gestured toward his chest.
“You keep saying that about everything.”
For a moment Crowe looked like he might argue.
Then another impact shook the building.
Somewhere below them, metal screamed as if something enormous had slammed against reinforced doors.
Adrian felt the ticking inside his chest suddenly accelerate.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
He grabbed the wall for balance.
Crowe noticed immediately.
“What’s wrong?”
“The clock,” Adrian said quietly.
“What about it?”
“It’s speeding up.”
Crowe’s expression darkened.
“That’s impossible.”
Another impact echoed through the building.
This time closer.
Agents in the corridor stopped moving.
Everyone heard it.
Crowe turned toward the stairwell leading downward.
“That’s Sector Three.”
Adrian swallowed.
“What’s in Sector Three?”
Crowe hesitated.
Then he answered.
“A predator.”
Adrian stared at him.
“You’re keeping one of those things in this building?”
Crowe gave him a hard look.
“We study problems.”
Another violent crash shook the hallway.
The emergency lights flickered on, casting everything in red.
And for the first time since Adrian arrived at the Bureau, he realized something deeply unsettling.
The Bureau wasn't just hunting monsters.
They were collecting them.
Containment is only an illusion.
Eventually, something always breaks free.
