?Chapter 1494:


    The so-called privilege, the generous sry, the perfect life — none of it had been real. They were chains.


    Kolton’s voice echoed in his memory, cold and amused. “Your loyalty is your family’s protection. Fail the mission, leak a single word, or let theb fall into other hands… and you will be looking at their corpses.”


    A terror deeper than the fear of death propelled his broken frame. For Kathy. For Annabelle. He had to erase it all. Destroying the evidence was the only way to keep them safe.


    Gritting his teeth until blood filled his mouth, he forced his arm downward.


    But just inches from the button, his hand stopped. An invisible chasm yawned between him and the only thing that mattered. His eyes widened in horror. No matter how desperately his mind screamed, his arm refused to obey. It hung limp and useless at his side.


    “What… happened…”


    He looked down, horror dawning. Raegan’s volley had destroyed his right arm entirely — bone pulverized, muscle shredded, the limb held together by little more than a thread of skin and tendon. It could notplete that final motion.


    “No.” The protest emerged as a choked, bloody gurgle. Warmth flooded his mouth.


    He watched, helpless, as his lifeblood sttered across the console — over the button that was now forever beyond his reach. His strength drained away. His vision dimmed.


    Beneath the pulsing red rm lights, the world softened.


    He saw sunlight. An autumn park. Annabelle’s small hand in his, Kathy smiling beside him. Golden leaves. A gentle breeze. Annabelle’sugh drifting toward him — “Daddy… Daddy…”


    He tried to smile. Tried to reach for them.


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    Then a cold gust tore through the illusion. The scene shattered like ss, and Kathy and Annabelle crumbled into dust before his eyes, scattering into nothingness.


    “No…” Two cloudy tears slid down his ashen cheeks.


    The button — symbol of both destruction and false protection — remained untouched. His hand slipped away. A single drop of blood fell beside it, sshing softly against the metal.


    Then, silence.


    Raegan reached the control panel, breathing hard, her chest rising sharply. She stared down at the old man slumped over it, lifeless. Her eyes were cold. Detached. Without pity.


    She lifted her boot and pushed his body aside. It rolled onto the floor, his eyes remaining wide open — refusing to close even in death.


    Only then did the tension drain from Raegan’s limbs. She leaned against the control panel, her fingers trembling faintly. She had won the gamble. One secondter, this ce would have be a wastnd.


    Slowly, she lifted her head. Her gaze swept across theboratory — sinful, sterile, monstrous. When her eyesnded on the massive ss containers surrounding her, her pupils shrank sharply.


    Raegan stared, her mind refusing to process the horror before her. She took an involuntary step back.


    The formaldehyde-filled tanks did not contain animal specimens or isted organs. They held children — curled into fetal positions, ranging in age from toddlers to adolescents. Some bodies were grotesquely malformed. Others were pierced by a web of tubes. Their eyes were shut, as if in deep sleep, yet their expressions suggested an endless, silent scream.


    These were not medical specimens. They were victims. Evidence of live human experimentation.


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