(Angel's POV)

The stench hit me first-a metallic tang of blood mixed with the sour rot of decay. I covered my nose and forced myself to keep moving even though my stomach grumbled with every step. The inner carcass of the West Wing had always been unsettling, but now it felt like stepping into a nightmare.

The dim overhead lights flickered across the grim scene before us. Rows of gurneys lined the walls, each one occupied by bodies in varying states of dissection. Some were fresh, their glassy eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling, while others were decomposed, their remains barely held together by fragile skin and sinew.

Hendrix cursed under his breath and clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. "This is worse than I imagined," he muttered, his voice shaking.noveldrama

I nodded, unable to speak. My hands trembled as I raised my phone and began snapping photos of the grotesque evidence around us.

We moved deeper into the wing, stepping over discarded surgical tools and bloodstained sheets. A large whiteboard caught my eye. It was covered in notes and diagrams that outlined the center's operation in chilling detail. I photographed it, and my heart pounded faster as I realized the scope of their crimes.

Evidence Gathered:

1\. **Patient Logs**

- Detailed records of patients, their medical histories, and the dates they were harvested. Each entry included chilling notes like "kidneys intact, heart viable."

2\. **Blueprints of the Facility**

- A schematic map of the West Wing, highlighting key areas like the harvesting rooms, organ storage, and disposal chutes.

31. **Photographs of Victims**

- Images of patients both pre- and post-operation, each file stamped with a red "SUCCESS" or a black "FAILURE."

4. **Video Footage**

- Clips from security cameras showing patients being sedated and prepped for surgery. One video even captured a conversation between two doctors discussing the "market value" of specific organs. 5\. **Dr. Joe's Personal Notes**

- Handwritten entries detailing the experiments, including chilling phrases like "maximize yield" and "test longevity of transplants."

Hendrix found a storage locker and opened it, revealing rows of organ coolers marked with barcodes. He pulled one out and his face paled as he read the label.

"It's real," his voice was hollow as he whispered. "They're selling these. Like... products."

I swallowed hard, the bile rising in my throat. "We need to get this out. All of it."

(Thomas's POV)

I was the first to notice the footsteps.

"Someone's coming," I hissed and shoved the evidence into my bag. "We need to move."

But it was too late. 

The door slammed open, and Dr. Joe entered, flanked by two guards. His expression was calm, almost smug, as his eyes scanned the room.

"Well, well," he drawled condescendingly. "Looks like our little rebels have been busy."

My heart raced as Dr. Joe stepped closer, his guards spreading out to block any potential exits.

"You've been such an inconvenience," Dr. Joe addressed Angel and Hendrix with a mocking smile. "Do you really think you can expose us? That anyone would believe you over me?" Hendrix snarled and stepped forward, but I grabbed his arm. We couldn't afford to lose control now.

Dr. Joe chuckled. “Oh, Hendrix. Always so predictable. Tell me, how does it feel to know your own stepmother sent you here? That she signed you away like a piece of property?" Hendrix froze; his jaw tightened.

"And Angel," Dr. Joe continued, turning to her. "You think you're special, don't you? A hero. But you're just another casualty in a game far bigger than you."

I clenched my fists, ready to lunge at him, but the sound of approaching guards stopped me.

"We're out of time," I whispered to Hendrix and Angel. "Get the evidence and go."

"No," Angel's voice was trembling. "We're not leaving you."

"You don't have a choice," I snapped and pulled her behind me as the guards closed in.

I quickly grabbed a metal tray and slammed it into the nearest guard's head. He stumbled, giving me just enough time to duck as another guard swung a baton at me. I countered with a jab to his gut, sending him flying. Hendrix joined the fight with his brutal moves. He disarmed one guard and used the weapon against him to knock him unconscious with a blow to the temple.

"Go!" I shouted to Angel, but she hesitated.

Dr. Joe then raised a gun, aiming it directly at her.

(Angel's POV)

Time slowed as the gun pointed at me. My body froze; my mind screamed for me to move, but I couldn't.

Thomas's body slammed into mine, shoving me out of the way just as the gun fired.

The sharp crack sound was deafening and echoed through the room.

"No!" I screamed and caught Thomas as he fell.

Blood poured from his side, staining his shirt and pooling on the floor. He coughed and his lips tinged with red as he tried to speak.

Hendrix grabbed the gun from Dr. Joe and used it to fend off the remaining guards. "We have to move!" he shouted frantically.

"I can't leave him!" I cried as I pressed my hands against Thomas's wound.

Hendrix swore under his breath then hoisted Thomas over his shoulder despite the blood soaking into his shirt.

We found a small maintenance closet and barricaded the door behind us. Hendrix laid Thomas down gently. His face was pale and he was barely breathing.

I knelt beside him, tears streaming down my face. "Stay with me," I begged.

Thomas smiled weakly and reached out his hand to touch my cheek. "Don't cry," he whispered. "You're too beautiful to cry."

His voice was faint, each word a struggle. "I love you, Angel. I always have. I wanted... I wanted a life with you. A family."

My heart shattered. "I love you too," I said as my voice continued trembling. "You're going to be okay. We'll get you out of here. I promise."

He shook his head as his hand fell limply to his side. "It's too late for me. But you... you have to finish this. You have to stop them."

Hendrix's voice was tight as he spoke. "We don't have time for goodbyes. We need to keep moving."

Thomas's eyes met mine one last time. "Be strong," he whispered.

Then he was gone. 

I collapsed against his chest and started sobbing uncontrollably. Hendrix's hand rested on my shoulder, gripping me firmly but gently.

It ached. Everything about this ached.

"We have to go," he said softly.