Chapter 18 · Sync Overload

"Don't move, little bird, or I'll paint this wall with your brains."

Cold steel pressed into Lyra's scalp. The air tasted like ozone and wet fur—the hounds were still here, circling in the dark. She froze. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped animal.

Ten feet away, Cain’s boots skidded on the metal floor. He pivoted, eyes locking onto the barrel pointed at her head.

"Put the gun down," Cain barked. Low. Dangerous. None of the hesitation from moments ago when they were almost touching.

"Step back, Enforcer!" the gunman yelled. "One more inch and she's a memory."

Lyra felt the man's grip tighten on her shoulder, dragging her back. Then, a spike of heat flared in her chest—the forbidden core reacting to her terror. But it wasn't just her pain. A jagged, metallic agony ripped through her mind. A phantom blade slicing through muscle.

She gasped, clutching her side. There was no wound, but she could feel the rip.

"What the hell..." she whispered.

Cain flinched. He didn't just react; he buckled. His hand flew to his ribs, his face twisting in horror.

"You're feeling me," Cain groaned, voice strained. "Stop it.