The thing that crawled out of the dead man's chest wasn't human.
Not anymore.
It looked like something born in the underbelly of a nightmare—slick with gore, its elongated skull covered in matte black bone that pulsed faintly with heat. Rows of needle-thin teeth gnashed together with a sound like glass scraping concrete. Its limbs twitched and flexed with inhuman rhythm, jagged claws clicking against the metal flooring.
Elliot stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet. His mouth was dry, his heart battering against his ribs.
"W-what the hell is that?!"
The man didn't flinch. His reply was a blade—cold, sharp, leaving no room for debate. "Focus." A pause, just long enough to let the command sink in. "Open the case."
Elliot's grip on the suitcase tightened, his knuckles bleaching white. His pulse roared in his ears. "This thing? What—what's even in it?"
"What do you think?" The man's tone didn't rise. It didn't need to. "Open it. Now."
