The facility didn't look like a prison from the outside.
Set in the Mojave Desert about two hundred miles northeast of Los Angeles, it resembled a high-tech research campus or pharmaceutical headquarters. Clean white buildings connected by covered walkways, solar panels gleaming on rooftops, perfectly manicured landscaping that must have cost millions to maintain in the desert climate.
Only the twenty-foot security fence topped with razor wire suggested this wasn't a place people left voluntarily.
"Welcome home, darling," Damien said as our convoy pulled through the main gate. "I trust you remember some of this?"
I pressed my face to the bulletproof window, studying the compound with my Luna-enhanced vision. The buildings were larger than they appeared, extending deep underground. Multiple helicopter landing pads. Vehicle maintenance facilities. Barracks that could house several hundred personnel.
This wasn't just a research facility. It was a military installation.
