Theresa's eyes burned with sudden light. "Then take me there!" she demanded, her voice sharp and full of urgency. Thirty minutes later, she stood before the dividing wall between Workshop 2 and Workshop 3. She now wore a white worker's uniform. The uniform came from the factory floor of Workshop 2. She had stolen it with ease. At first she had thought about taking Caleb's clothes. He had two days off and could hide in Lilian's room. But if he lost his uniform, he would never make it back without suspicion. So Theresa had slipped one from the production line. Nobody noticed, because the uniforms were made there in bulk. She buttoned it tight and walked straight toward the wall. At the base of the wall, a tree stump had been cut flat, shaped smooth from countless climbs. Workers still moved back and forth. Theresa studied the way one man climbed, copying every step. She pressed her palms against the stone, pushed off from the stump, and swung herself over. Her feet hit the ground on the other side with a muffled thud. The view changed at once. Unlike the endless sprawl of Workshops 1 and 2, Workshop 3 was a single towering building. Caleb's words returned to her. The top floors were for producing medicine. The underground held the restricted zone.The timing was perfect. It was shift change. Theresa walked fast, keeping close to a man heading for the gate. When he swiped his card, she slid in tight behind him. The man stiffened as though he felt something brush against him. He turned his head, but all he saw was a plain white coat passing by. Her disguise cloaked her in forgettability. His eyes passed over her, blind and dismissive. He kept walking. Theresa's lips pressed thin. She was inside. The first floor stretched like a maze of glass rooms. Each one glowed under pale lights, lined with workers hunched over benches. The sound of rattling wheels filled the hall. Carts rolled past her, each one stacked with syringes. The yellow cross stamped on them burned like a warning. Eclipse Serum. The most guarded product of the company. Every face around her was tense. Every step was quick. The factory air was heavy with silence and urgency. No laughter. No voices. Only the frantic rhythm of endless work. Theresa's eyes scanned the floor, but she had no time to linger. Her unseen power ticked away. She had less than half an hour. She needed the underground. Then she saw it. The gate of the restricted zone. It was massive, marked with bold letters: RESTRICTED AREA. Nobody dared step near it. It needed a higher-level card. Theresa waited in the shadows, her pulse drumming faster with each second. Her power was fading. Minutes remained. A group appeared. At the front walked a figure in a white coat, wrapped head to toe. His face and age were hidden. Behind him came workers pushing carts of empty tubes. Theresa's breath tightened when he pulled out a card. A sharp beep split the silence. The door clicked open. Behind it stood an elevator. Waiting. Another beep echoed. The doors opened wide. Theresa's eyes widened. Workers in white coats filled the space inside. Their carts overflowed with test tubes, each one full of blood-red liquid. The exchange was smooth and cold. Full carts rolled out. Empty carts rolled in. The leader stood silent, watching. He swiped his card again. Another beep, and the doors began to close. Theresa moved. She slipped through the gap at the very last moment. The leader outside frowned, suspicion flashing in his eyes. He looked over his people. For a second, he swore someone had gone in. But who?He saw nothing. Inside, the workers ignored her completely. Her disguise held firm. The doors shut with a metallic chime. She got in. The elevator dropped. The floor shook beneath her feet. A sound rose from below. A deep, guttural roar clawed at the silence. Another cry followed, harsher, savage. The elevator jolted to a stop. The doors slid open with a hollow beep. Air rushed in. It reeked of disinfectant. It reeked of rot. Theresa's power was almost gone. She stepped forward fast, slipping out before it failed. Her eyes froze at the sight before her. Iron cages stretched across the underground in endless rows. Inside, zombies writhed. Others were strapped to cold steel beds. Their bodies were pierced with tubes. Their mouths snapped. Their eyes glared with madness. Beside them stood machines shaped like dialysis pumps. Black blood streamed from their veins, sucked into tubes. Theresa's chest tightened. Her mind leapt back to the transformation she had witnessed at the academy. But this was worse. The blood did not flow back into the bodies. It was drawn out, harvested, and stored in endless streams of glass tubes.