POV: Aurora
The bracelet beeps when the elevator reader recognizes my wrist.
I still can't get used to that sound being for me.
"Sixth floor, wing B," Dante says, pressing the button.
"What's that?" I ask.
"Your new territory."
The word "territory" coming from an Alpha is never innocent. Even so, curiosity wins out.
The doors open to a floor I've never seen before. No pretty pictures or shiny logos: just a long hallway, plain walls, doors with old, half-torn labels. It smells musty. And like opportunity.
"Projects that died with the last restructuring used to work here," he explains. "Pilots, laboratories, things that were no longer a priority."
"What a lovely epitaph," I murmur.
We come to a double door with no logo, just an access reader.
"Try it," he says.
I place my wristband on it. Beep. Green light.
The lock gives way and I push.
