Scp 173 Novels & Stories

My voice was louder than I meant it to be: “You sick bastard!” He immediately turned to face me. Mr. Scarpa. Mr. Scarpa was calm and composed yet again, even in this situation. He was still in all black. His eyes fell on me like a slow-falling guillotine. “Montana,” he said with a smooth, unreadable voice. “How do you do?” How… how dare this man?! He didn’t let me speak as he raised an eyebrow and pointed to the big screen. “Oh, this?” he calmly said, like a nouveau riche. “You were aware your husband recorded you every time you both had sex without your consent, right?”

Sarah, how do I know which one? She spoke urgently into the microphone. Look for the code SC-47, a blue vial. Got it. Grabbing it now. Relief flooded through me, overwhelming and fleeting, nearly buckling my knees. Harrison, report? Nathaniel asked, voice edged with worry. Static. Harrison? More static, then a guttural grunt of pain. Harrison's voice, strained and rough: Shoulder's hit, but I can still move. They're everywhere. Every exit route we planned is compromised.

From a locked ebony box, she took out a small glass vial. Inside was a shimmering blue liquid. "This is the old Sicilian way," her voice was a witch's rasp. "An ancient neurotoxin, mixed with a powerful aphrodisiac. A few drops, and she will lose all will to resist. She will become compliant, desperate. Get her pregnant with a Whitestone heir, and motherhood will be her chain. All women are the same. A child is a leash." Gavin stared at the vial, a war raging inside him.

Sophia reached into the core of the vault, her digital hands closing around three glowing pulses of pure, devastating information. The Subject Transfer Agreement: A high-resolution scan of a contract that smelled of ink and old blood. There was Lucas’s signature, bold and arrogant, next to a clause that chilled Sophia to her very soul: “Subject 01 (Sophia Reed) is hereby transferred to Harris Trust for invasive neural mapping in exchange for a non-dilutable 50,000,000 USD equity stake.” The Monitoring Logs: Audio files that hissed with betrayal. Lucas’s voice, cold and instructional: "Keep her emotional spikes high, Luna. The Trust needs the cortisol data. If she suspects anything... handle

New York City. October. Xavier's Penthouse. 9:17 PM. Xavier was already moving. He crossed the locked room in four strides, pulled open a drawer in the desk that Scarlett hadn't noticed before, and took out two things — a small black device that looked like a modified phone and a keycard on a lanyard that he looped over his neck without ceremony. He was already typing on the modified device with one hand while he moved toward the door, and Scarlett watched him shift from the man who had been standing very still with her hand on his to something else entirely — focused, contained, operating on a frequency she recognized because she'd been operating on it her whole professional life.

Scarlett clicked open the full file. The terminal whirred softly. A new document appeared. Transfer Notes Confidential Her eyes scanned the text. Subject Seven demonstrates exceptional early cognitive response and adaptive emotional resilience. The maternal guardian insists transfer is necessary for long-term protection. Protection. Her breath caught. Protection from what? Dominic leaned closer. "There's another page." Scarlett opened it. A recorded voice file blinked on the screen. Her heart slammed against her ribs. The date was fifteen years old. Her trembling finger pressed play.

That wasn’t synthetic. Neither was mine. A soft tone interrupted the silence. New notification. Not from the apartment. From my tablet. I crossed the room slowly and picked it up. The screen displayed a single classified document. PROJECT ORPHEUS Behavioral Synchronization Trial – Phase III Primary Objective: Emotional Dependency Pairing for Executive Stabilization My blood went cold. Below it— Subject A: Reid, Shawn Subject B: Agreste, Catriona Status: Convergence Successful Shawn went utterly still behind me.

She squeezed it two more times before dropping it in the water close to her chest. Leaning back and relaxing, she let her hands drop on either side of the bath tub. Her left hand reached out for the bottle of wine which laid just below the tub and she lifted it up. Deciding not to bother refilling the now empty glass, she brought the bottle to her lips and tipped her head backward, gulping the red liquid down in a rush. She choked and coughed, placed the bottle down and chuckled sadly. "Omar, I'm really sorry." Hiccup. "I'm really really sorry. But I needed this break, at least I thought that was what I needed.... Bit I miss you terribly...."

’ Scarlet asked as Samantha rolled her eyes at her wolf. ‘It’s not the same. This… we’re… No!’ Samantha replied as she cut off her mind link with Scarlet. Her wolf played around in anguish as she waited for Samantha’s action against their rejected mate. She put her hands up in front of her to stop Zack from advancing toward her. He ignored the clear sign as Zack was taking another step toward Samantha.

Jham thought they are acting so odd, she tilted her head in wonder. “Can you tell us her room number again?” Clearing her throat, Jham shared, “It’s 316.” Then, she walked away. “Thank you so much!” Joel said before he glared at Edgar. “Do you want to look like a maniac? Finding her through smell.” “Ahhh, right,” Edgar realized then he tapped his lips as to punish them. “But, our search will be easy,” Hunter said. And since they know the apartment number, the four of them arrived in front of Maxine’s apartment without a haste.