But now...
The Sanctum Vault had become the center of attention.
Taking their planned routes guaranteed Specimen Fourteen's exposure.
Yet staying put meant she could awaken at any moment.
If Asset 14 lost control inside the vault...
She would tear the entire sector to shreds!
Not only would their extraction fail, but the resulting slaughter would alert the entire ship.
They couldn't hide her existence then, either.
If Project Zero-Transit's leaders discovered Black Sun had used them as a smokescreen for this transport...
Their alliance would shatter permanently.
Without the ship's backing, Black Sun would face endless complications.
Cold sweat instantly soaked the commander's back.
He ripped his communicator from his vest and established a secure line.
"My Lord Raven," he reported respectfully. "Massive crowds of hunters and buyers have swarmed the vault's perimeter. All primary extraction routes are blocked."
"Asset 14's vitals are highly unstable, and life support is failing. She could awaken at any moment!"
"We cannot proceed with the original plan, but remaining here guarantees exposure."
"Please advise!"
The line fell into a suffocating silence.
Even The Raven hadn't anticipated that their ultra-classified vault would suddenly become the obsession of the entire ship in a matter of minutes.
Nor did he expect every single extraction route to be simultaneously severed.
The dead silence dragged on, agonizing and heavy.
Drops of sweat rolled down the commander's face, splattering against the floor.
He didn't even dare wipe them away, standing rigidly as he waited for a response.
A slender figure leaned lazily against the shadows.
Serena lowered her eyes, a micro-terminal spinning effortlessly between her fingertips.
On the glowing screen, a red dot representing the pod was inching exactly along the path she had predicted.
Heading straight for the auction backstage.
A wicked, breathtaking smile slowly curled the corners of her red lips.
No one realized that their only desperate avenue of escape...
Was, from the very beginning, a death trap she had meticulously laid out just for them.
...
Backstage at the auction house.
In stark contrast to the opulent, intoxicating glamour of the main hall, the backstage was bathed in clinical, cold light. Priceless items were neatly cataloged.
Silver-gray transport rails crisscrossed the ceiling, branching off toward various storage sectors and hydraulic display lifts.

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