Chapter 13 · Hunt Lights On 'Em

"Move your ass, Mercer! Now!" Rook’s voice cracked like a whip, her hand digging into my shoulder, shoving me toward the narrow access hatch of the lower crawlspace.

I didn't move. I couldn't. My left arm was vibrating—not a shake, but a high-frequency hum that made the marrow in my bones feel like it was boiling. The Gene-Eater chip was screaming, demanding more. It didn't want data. It wanted fuel. It wanted *her*.

"I can't... damn it, Rook, I can't walk straight," I spat, stumbling against the rusted plating of the wall.

She stopped and spun around, her eyes narrowing. She didn't look at me with pity. She looked at me like I was a malfunctioning piece of hardware that needed a hard reset. She stepped into my space, the scent of ozone and cold rain clinging to her gear, and slammed her palm against my chest to steady me.

"You're glitching again," she snapped. "Stop fighting it and move, or I'll leave you for the sweepers to scrap."

"Liars don't leave their best assets behind," I wheezed, trying to smirk through the pain.

"You're barely an asset. You're a liability with a hungry chip," she retorted.