It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Crates were supposed to carry drugs. Weapons. Money. Or if it was something more twisted—human hybrids, like Nine.
But this... this wasn't that.
I stared at the glowing seal on the third crate while the others stood back, forming a hesitant half-circle like they expected it to explode.
Kol limped closer, cradling his side. "This is a bad idea."
"We're already in it," I said.
Mick hovered near one of the other crates, fingers twitching. "Shouldn't we just call base?"
Tiger grunted. "No signal out here. We'd have to move to get one."
"We move, they take it," I said, crouching beside the latch. "You saw how careful they were. They didn't want to destroy it. They wanted it intact. Which means we have to know what we're sitting on."
Nyx stirred in my mind, silent and sharp. This doesn't feel like Nine. This is older. Hungrier.
I reached for the seal.
The moment my fingers brushed it, the glow intensified.
"Back up," I said, without turning around.
They did.
One by one.
Even Tiger.
With a soft hiss, the latch disengaged.
The crate's lid lifted slowly—hydraulic arms whining as they pushed it open inch by inch. A rush of cold air escaped, laced with something stale, damp, and ancient. The kind of scent that didn't belong in sterile labs or on steel wheels.
It belonged underground.
Or underwater.
Or buried.
The interior was lined with frost. Cryo-tech insulation. A preservation unit, still humming faintly despite the chaos. Inside it—wrapped in coils of glass tubing and filament—was a body.
No, not a body.
Not like Nine.
This thing was... larger.
Curled in on itself, knees drawn up to a thin chest, arms folded, long fingers tipped with curved claws that shimmered like obsidian. Its skin was grayish-blue, translucent in places, stretched tight over unnaturally elongated limbs. Not soft. Not delicate.
This thing was ancient.
Its head was oversized, with no hair, no ears, just two slits where a nose might have been, and a mouth that looked too wide—closed for now.
The eyes were shut.
Thank the gods.
Because even closed, I could feel something from it.
Like it was watching.
Sleeping, yes.
But aware.
Mick gagged behind me.
Tiger took a step back, muttering a curse under his breath.
"What is that?" Jai asked.
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't know.
Nyx was silent for a beat too long.
Then: That's not a hybrid. That's not a person. That's a monster dressed up to look like one.
The data chip Kol found earlier still sat in Tiger's hand. He plugged it into his wrist console now, screen flickering with old logs. Text scrolled in jagged glyphs—scientific shorthand and numerical strings.
And then one phrase in English.
"Project WRAITH - Pre-Human Experimental Hybridization Trial. Dormant State Confirmed. Do Not Engage."
Tiger read it aloud.
Kol stared at the crate. "Pre-human?"
I nodded slowly. "Whatever it is... it came before us."
A hybrid made not from a wolf or a fox or feline DNA like the others. But something primal. Something not even meant to walk on two legs.
Nyx whispered: Why is it still alive?
I stepped closer, gaze locked on the thing's unmoving face.
Because someone wanted it to be.