Jace lay flat on the cold training room floor, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. His fingers clenched around the mask of his Spandex suit, now half-torn and damp with sweat. The metallic scent of blood mixed with the acrid tang of burnt wiring, the remnants of high-powered drones littering the ground around him—broken, shattered, torn apart

  Pain radiated from his ribs as he pressed a trembling hand against his bruised side, wincing when his fingers met torn skin. His body screamed in protest, every muscle overworked and battered from the brutal training session. But training wasn’t the right word.

  They had been trying to kill him.

  Zara and Kai had never held back before, but today had been different. Their movements had been precise, their attacks lethal. And it hadn’t just been them. The drones had been relentless, targeting him with enough force to make it clear—this wasn’t about training. This was about survival.

  The realization settled uneasily in his gut, but before he could process it further, a shadow loomed over him.

  A single, cold eye stared down at him.

  “Get up.”

  Jace’s grip tightened around his mask as he forced himself to look up. Lucian Vendrell stood above him, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. His face, as always, was sharp and severe, but Jace’s gaze was drawn to the right side of it—to the scarred, sunken socket where his other eye should have been. The ruined flesh stretched jaggedly across his cheekbone, a permanent mark of whatever had happened to him.

  The sight of it made something instinctively twist in Jace’s gut, but Lucian’s lone, piercing eye bore into him, snapping him back to the present.

  “Follow me.”

  Jace gritted his teeth but pushed himself up, ignoring the sharp protest of his injuries. He wouldn’t give Lucian the satisfaction of seeing him struggle. Still, he felt his body sway slightly as he took his first step forward, his exhaustion catching up with him. Lucian noticed but said nothing, only leading him down the sterile halls of the CDE facility.

  The interrogation room was dimly lit, its walls bare except for a single metal table and two chairs. Lucian gestured for Jace to sit, then took the seat across from him, leaning back with calculated ease.

  Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Then Lucian finally spoke.

  “Let’s get something straight,” he said, his voice sharp. “If you ever go against instructions again, if you ever so much as hesitate when given an order, today’s ‘training’ will feel like a warm-up.”

  Jace clenched his jaw, the words digging into his already raw frustration. He was still trying to catch his breath, and now he had to sit through this?

  His grip on the edge of the table tightened. “My only offense is trying to help people,” he shot back, his voice low but firm.

  Lucian let out a short, humorless laugh. “Help people?” He leaned forward, his lone eye locking onto Jace’s with an intensity that sent a chill through him.

  “Let me tell you something,” he said, his tone laced with cold amusement. “I’m not Axel. He may have tried to baby you, may have thought you were something special—but I’m here to give you the truth.”

  Lucian’s smirk faded. His voice hardened.

  “You are not some precious asset. You are a tool. And once a tool starts to malfunction—it gets disposed of.”

  Jace stiffened. The words hit harder than he expected.

  Lucian leaned back slightly, watching Jace’s reaction with calculated patience before delivering the final blow.

  “Like Axel.”

  Jace felt his stomach drop.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “What—” His voice faltered for a split second before he forced himself to steady it. “What do you mean ‘disposed of’?”

  Lucian tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “That’s none of your concern.”

  Jace’s mind raced. Had they killed Axel? Locked him away? Was he even alive? The thought made his stomach churn. He had his doubts about the man, but Axel had at least tried to look out for him—tried to protect him. And now, just like that, he was gone?

  He wanted answers. But Lucian wasn’t going to give them.

  Instead, the man stood up, his expression settling back into one of cold disinterest. “Freshen up,patch yourself up ” he ordered. “You are going on your first mission .”

  Jace didn’t move at first. His mind screamed at him to say something, to push back, to demand to know what happened to Axel.

  But he didn’t, he couldn't.

  Instead, he let out a slow breath and stood, his body still aching from the earlier fight. He shot Lucian a glare, but the man had already turned away, his message clear.

  This conversation was over.

  ......Few minutes later..

  Jace exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. The bruises on his body still throbbed beneath the tight fabric of his undershirt, even after the painkillers had dulled most of the sensation. These weren’t the standard meds they gave him before—Lucian had made sure of that. Whatever was in them worked fast, forcing his body into a state of artificial recovery.

  Lucian wasn’t giving him the option to rest.

  The elevator doors slid open with a mechanical hiss, revealing a dimly lit corridor lined with reinforced steel. Jace followed in silence, his boots echoing softly against the metallic floor. He had been in this facility before—this was where he had first met Axel—but he had never seen this level. He hadn't even known the building had more floors. The deeper they went, the colder the air became, like the place itself was designed to strip away any warmth, any comfort.

  His escort stopped in front of a large doorway and pressed his palm to a scanner. A series of beeps followed before the heavy doors rumbled open, revealing a massive control room.

  The Command Centre.

  Jace’s eyes flicked across the vast space—walls covered with blinking monitors, consoles lined with arrays of switches, and two enormous screens mounted at the front of the room. The entire place hummed with quiet efficiency, like the nerve center of something far bigger than he had imagined.

  Four figures stood near the main console where Lucian was

  Lucian gestured toward them as they turned to face Jace. “Meet your team,” he said flatly. “Lynx, Beta, Zeta, and Spectre.”

  Lynx, the apparent leader, was a tall, sharp-eyed man with an air of complete control. Beta and Zeta—who Jace assumed were twins—wore nearly identical tactical suits, arms crossed in silent judgment. Spectre, the only woman in the group, stood slightly apart, her presence unreadable beneath the hood that partially obscured her face.

  Jace forced a smirk. “Dynamo,” he introduced himself, pausing before adding, “Not my first choice, but hey, branding is important, right?”

  Silence. No reaction.

  Jace shifted uncomfortably, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “Tough crowd.”

  Lucian ignored the exchange and moved toward the main console. He pressed a button, and one of the large screens flickered to life. The image that appeared made Jace’s stomach twist.

  A man—bloodied, bound to a chair, his face barely recognizable through the bruises—sat slumped forward, his breathing ragged. Three figures stood around him, their faces obscured by shadows. The entire scene was lit by a single overhead lamp, casting harsh contrasts over the torture unfolding in real-time.

  Jace’s breath hitched. His gut churned.

  “Jesus Christ, man. Torture?”

  Lucian barely spared him a glance. “Axel really did baby you,” he muttered, as if Jace’s reaction was an inconvenience. “This is how things work in the real world, so you better get used to it.”

  Jace clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.

  Blaze. That was his name, the second enhanced individual he fought at pantheon laboratories, the sight of him—beaten and barely conscious—was enough to make Jace’s jaw tighten. The CDE had always been ruthless, but this was something else.

  Lucian continued, unfazed. “Our 'source' got us the location of a possible hideout linked to The Maker. Infrared satellite imaging shows activity in multiple areas, but this one is the busiest.” He gestured toward the second screen, which displayed a grainy heatmap of a large industrial complex. “We’re sending you there to confirm his presence.”

  Beta let out a low groan. “So basically, we’re babysitting a rookie.”

  Zeta scoffed. “Great.”

  Jace shot them a glare but kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

  Lucian ignored the complaint. “The objective is simple. Go in, confirm if The Maker is present, and report back. No engagements unless absolutely necessary. Understood?”

  The team nodded. Jace exhaled slowly, bracing himself.

  Lynx turned to them. “Gear up. We leave in five.”

  The locker room was silent except for the soft sounds of zippers and buckles being secured. Jace pulled on the new suit they had given him—a sleeker, more reinforced version of his usual Spandex. The material stretched comfortably but had an added layer of durability. Probably designed for stealth and protection.

  He adjusted the gloves, rolling his shoulders as the painkillers dulled the last remnants of soreness.

  Lynx’s voice cut through the quiet. “Move out.”

  Jace followed as the team stepped into a garage. The air smelled of fuel and steel. A black transport van sat waiting, its doors open, the interior dark and ready.

  Jace took a breath.

  This wasn’t just another training session. This was real.