Chapter 17 · Black Bank: Blood Money

"Move your ass or we're both dead," Sloane hissed, her voice a jagged blade against my ear.

She shoved me forward, her hand gripping the back of my collar so tight I could feel the heat of her palm through the fabric. We weren't just sneaking; we were crawling through a ventilation shaft that smelled like ozone and old sweat, the metal groaning under our combined weight.

"I can't... breathe," I managed, my lungs burning.

"Breathe later. Download now," she snapped.

I felt it then. The crash. It started as a flicker in my vision, a glitch of static that turned the grey metal of the vent into a kaleidoscope of screaming neon. My genes were collapsing. The neural sync with Sloane was the only thing keeping my heart beating, but the signal was fraying.

"Sloane," I gasped, my body jerking. "It's happening. I'm crashing."

She stopped dead. The sudden halt sent me sliding into her back. She didn't push me away. Instead, she twisted, her eyes scanning the narrow tunnel before she grabbed my wrist and yanked me closer.