Free Ultraxenopia (Project W. A. R. Book 1) by M. A. Phipps Page A

awaiting her next orders.
    “Take the subject back to
the laboratory and prep the team for another session,” Dr. Richter instructs.
    My heart catches in my
chest as my eyes dart to his. The panic rushes from my lungs in a single
utterance of disbelief. “What?” I breathe.
    At almost the exact same
moment, the woman expresses her nearly identical uncertainty. “So soon?” she
asks.
    I glance between them. The
woman looks confused. Uneasy even. Yet, regardless of her misgivings, I know
she’ll do what he says in the end.
    They all will.
    My eyes dart back to Dr.
Richter as he rises from his seat, a fresh wave of fear holding me down in my
own. He gathers his few belongings and approaches the door. I follow his every
movement. Waiting.
    After a few steps, he turns
to look at me. His eyes stare back into mine with an alarming ferocity behind
them. “We will retrieve the vision in its entirety,” he drawls, “and then you
will lead us to PHOENIX.”
    Incredulity takes hold of
me as I gape at him in disbelief. What does he expect from me? Doesn’t he even
realize that his last test nearly killed me?
    I shake my head. “You know
I can’t control it—” I begin to protest.
    He lunges forward and slams
his hand down on the table. “You will learn to!” he shouts. “You will lead me to him!”
    I reel back, hearing his
words echo like an alarm in my head.
    Lead me to him.
    Lead me to him . . . .
    A scream rips from my
throat as my knees buckle beneath me, and all at once, I see a number of
images. Stab after stab, they flash through my thoughts.
    I see the bar again— The
Vega . Except this time, I’m seeing it as if I'm standing inside. I notice a
bartender casually drying a wet glass, and there are three people sitting at
the bar in front of him, one of which I recognize.
    It’s him, I think in-between the
stabs. He’s here.
    My hand shoots out and
clutches at the table for support. Sweat trickles from my skin as I suck in a
heavy breath.
    “What have you just seen?”
Dr. Richter’s voice is faint. The abrupt buzzing in my ears is almost enough to
drown him out.
    Footsteps reflect off the
tiled floor, and within seconds, I’m aware of him standing in front of me.
Leaning down, he roughly grabs hold of my shirt. With a single tug, he pulls me
toward him until our faces are only a few inches apart.
    “Answer me!” he screams.
    Traces of spit land on my
cheeks, but I don’t blink or react. I simply stare back into those cold gray
eyes, determined not to tell him another word.
    After a moment, he releases
his grip on me, his lips pulling into a malicious sneer as he drops me to the
floor. I moan when my head hits the hard surface of the tiles.
    Fingers trembling, I grip
the edge of the table and pull myself back up. Once I’m on my feet, my eyes
dart to Dr. Richter’s. But he isn’t looking at me. He’s looking at the woman.
    Out of the corner of my
eye, I notice her pull a syringe from the pocket of her white coat.
Instinctively, I take a step away from her. I won’t let them do this to me.
    Not again.
    My hand shifts until I feel
the jagged edge of the mirror slide against my palm. “Stay away from me,” I
whisper.
    The woman ignores me and
begins to move forward. I take another step back, tightening my grip around my
makeshift blade. I glance at Dr. Richter, but he doesn’t say or do anything. He
watches us instead, his face an expressionless mask.
    “I said stay away from me!”
I shriek. I raise my armed hand as a last means of defense. My entire body
shakes with rage, fear, and a multitude of emotions I can no longer control.
They build up inside of me, the pressure from them growing until I can’t possibly
hold onto it for another moment. Finally, the extreme weight of everything I'm
feeling seems to explode from my very pores—an outflowing of energy that’s like
a heavy burden being lifted from my shoulders.
    The mirrored wall shatters.
The pieces fall with a loud clatter to the floor,