CHAPTER 409: TWO TEAMS II

Doctors’ new secret base. 7:30 p.m.

"It’s time. Let’s move in."

Aiden spoke in a low, commanding tone, content with the level of darkness that had finally swallowed the field.

The heavy silence of the night relieved him; there had been no occurrences, no surprises—the plan was going exactly as arranged. The doctors hadn’t left the house, not a single shadow had crossed the windows.

He gestured with his fingers—index and middle in a sharp up-and-down motion. Instantly, the agents flanking him responded like clockwork, crouching low as they darted forward in silence, their boots whispering against the damp grass as they slid into their designated positions.

His own heart beat in slow, deliberate thuds, a soldier’s rhythm. The stillness before the storm.

"Stay safe and don’t die on me..." he muttered under his breath, eyes cutting toward Susan as they advanced together, still crouched low, their backs bent like hunters stalking prey. The old model windows loomed not far ahead, and one wrong silhouette could give them away.

Susan snorted softly, but there was a smile tugging at her lips despite the tension. "I will be fine, old man. Athena wouldn’t have let me come if she didn’t think that. I am my mother’s daughter."

"Of course, you are, Susan. Of course you are. But... be careful..." Aiden’s voice softened briefly, almost fatherly, before the two of them peeled apart—one veering left, the other right—melting into the darkness.

Static whispered faintly in their earpieces as each agent reported in, their clipped voices confirming positions around the perimeter. Like shadows, they encircled the house. The ring was tight, unbroken.

Aiden, satisfied that every angle was covered, slipped a phone from his pocket and typed swiftly, thumbs steady despite the tension in his jaw. The text was short: "Are you in position?"

The reply came immediately. "Yes."

The truck. The contingency plan.

Athena’s foresight again. She had added the vehicle to the mission, insisting they needed it should a loud batch of drugs be found somewhere in the house.

She had prepared for every possibility, down to the tiniest detail, even having one of their trackers map the coordinates of the field inch by inch.

"Team A, stay in position. Team B, move in."

Susan, crouched by the rear of the building, guided her team into place, her gun raised, back pressed against the siding near the old back door. She was the insurance—ready to storm inside should things go wrong.

Aiden and his team, after confirming the front room was clear, lobbed tear gas through an open window. White smoke began to curl upward, hazing against the glass. In quick succession, they slid on another shade of masks, heavy filters tightening over their faces to block the sting of chemical haze.

"Move."

They tore into the house, guns poised, shoulders brushing as they swept into the living room. Their training showed in every controlled motion—eyes sharp, fingers taut, barrels slicing through the smoke.

But silence met them. The living room was empty.

So was the next space. And the next.

The warehouse-like interior, divided into crude sections, bore the marks of life—wardrobes half-open, a stack of storybooks, beds pressed with the imprint of bodies—but no people. Only absence.

It shouldn’t be so.

Aiden walked out of the warehouse, his frown etched deep, pulling his mask off with a frustrated rip.

"What is the problem? Why are you people out?" Susan demanded, scanning him. Unnerved by the lack of noise in her earpiece, she had advanced cautiously round the house until she found him standing in the field’s dim light. His expression alone told her something was wrong.

"The house is empty." Aiden’s answer was clipped, his lips a grim line.

Susan shook her head hard. "We have been watching them. There is no way that is possible. Unless..." Her eyes widened suddenly, the thought clicking.

Aiden raised a brow. "What?"

"Unless there is a hidden door. A hidden pathway, just like there had been in the lab."

Aiden exhaled sharply, running a gloved hand over his face. The frustration showed in the tight clench of his jaw. "Which means we have successfully managed to tip them off about our presence. Let’s hope their protectors won’t be here soon enough, and that we find them just as quick..."

Still, he wasn’t willing to gamble. "Brace up," he ordered his men, voice flinty.

Masks back on, weapons raised, they slipped once more into the structure. The smoke had begun to clear, aided by open windows.

Fifteen minutes crawled by fast, with every shadow checked, every floorboard tapped. Yet still—nothing. No secret door. No sound of life.

Susan’s breath quickened. "Should we call Athena?" she whispered, panic threading her voice. Time was ticking, and with every second, the gang edged closer.

They hadn’t found a single phone, which only confirmed the doctors still had their devices—and could have already made the call.

What tipped them off? she thought bitterly. Who had warned them?

"Commander! In here..."

The urgent call cracked through their comms, snapping every head toward the child’s room—the one lined with storybooks, the one that could only belong to little Ciaro.

"What is it?" Aiden demanded, striding in.

The agent inside pointed at a lever nestled discreetly behind the wardrobe. From the position of a cloth bin nearby, it was clear the bin had been dragged purposefully to cover the mechanism.

Susan’s stomach sank. If they had used the lever, who had hidden it then? Someone was outside, maybe in one of the rooms, probably watching them.

Aiden’s fingers tightened around the handle of his gun as his other hand reached slowly for the lever. With a firm tug, the whitewashed wall shifted, groaning as it parted. A cold gust escaped the opening.

Behind the wall stretched a lab. Apparatus gleamed on high tables and wooden shelves, organized with care. A luminous flame still burned under a small vessel, liquid bubbling gently over it.

"They just left," Aiden muttered, stepping closer, eyes narrowing at the simmering mixture.

"What is it?" Susan asked, tense.

He shrugged. "I am not a scientist."

Turning toward his men, his voice rang firm. "Search the lab for any notable package. You’ll know it when you see it..." He meant the Grey Variant.

But as they moved through the space, shelves rattled, vials clinking under their hands, nothing surfaced. No batch. No finished product. Only raw materials scattered in half-complete preparation.

Aiden’s frustration built as he pulled his phone and tried to call Athena. No connection.

"She must still be working," Susan guessed, scanning every corner of the lab. "Do you think the safe space will be here... maybe another room?"

"Maybe. Let’s search."

But their search was fruitless. Empty glass. Empty drawers. Nothing.

Then static hissed in Aiden’s ear. "What is the situation?" he barked.

"There are vans coming your way, with armored men..."

Aiden’s head snapped toward Susan, and their eyes locked in knowing.

"How many vans?" he pressed into the comms.

"About fifteen. I don’t think we can take them, not with our number of men. Their guns are top notch. I think we should leave to fight another day, sir, to avoid a bloodbath."

"Okay, thank you. We will be out soon. Keep watch still."

Aiden turned to his people. "We have to go. They have called in the cavalry."

They immediately moved toward the back exit, boots hitting the ground in sharp, urgent beats. But one agent hesitated, jaw clenched.

"Should we burn down the warehouse at least? I’m sure it will be enough to get the mission done."

Aiden stopped, eyes flashing, then shook his head decisively. "They have a child with them. We can’t kill an innocent civilian. Let’s go. We will catch them some other time."

As he led them out into the night, he sent the coordinates of the warehouse to the president’s security group, ensuring the field would be claimed as government property—sealed off forever from being used as a base again.

If the doctors didn’t escape with the gang tonight, then they would find the secret service on their doorstep tomorrow.