Ethan couldn’t breathe.

  He tried sucking in but his lungs refused to cooperate. Lying on his back, he blinked his eyes open, harsh lights blinding him. He winced, squinting, hating the brilliance…but it was nothing compared to anguish in his chest.

  What was once a dull throb was now an icy chill spreading across his skin. He blinked sunspots from his vision, focusing on his chest—on the dark blood pulsing from a wound, staining his white shirt.

  What the hell? He gritted his teeth, blood slipping from his mouth, dripping from his chin. What the hell? That chill spread through his torso, making his limbs tingle. His hands were warm, though, and as he clenched them, he felt something hard in his right hand.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  A phone. Pictures. Evidence he’d used to incriminate NeuroSync and send every sorry ass to prison!

  The click of heels startled him, the rushing in his ears making it hard to hear. A figure loomed above, blocking out the light. Ethan could barely make out his features—round glasses and a wide smirk.

  “So close, Ethan,” he whispered. “You were so close.”

  Ethan clenched his jaw, blood filling his mouth.

  “Your father would be proud.” He pointed a gun at my face, and what little warmth remained fled.

  Ethan clenched the phone, a scream crawling up his throat. Hell, he needed to get out, needed to show the world the bodies, the experiments, the torture he’d witnessed. NeuroSync wasn’t what everyone thought it was. It was a front, a facade, for something far deeper—far darker.

  “Are you ready to die?” the man asked.

  Wait! Ethan wanted to shout. Instead, a feral shriek burst from his mouth, blood spattering across the the floor.

  The man smirked.

  Then, he pulled the trigger.