Chapter 25 · Neural Storm

"Get your hands off me!" I snarled, but my voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well.

Sloane didn't let go. If anything, she slammed me harder against the rusted bulkhead of the safehouse. Her palm was flat against my chest, and I could feel the heat of her skin burning through my thin shirt. The neural sync was glitching—hard. Every time she breathed, my own lungs seemed to forget how to work.

"Shut up and hold still," she snapped. Her eyes were wide, the pupils blown out. "Your genes are cascading, Kael. If we don't stabilize the sync right now, your nervous system is going to fry itself from the inside out."

"I can handle it," I gasped, even as a violent tremor ripped through my left arm. My muscles locked, snapping my limb into a rigid, useless angle.

"The hell you can." Sloane gripped my collar, pulling me inches from her face. I could smell the sharp scent of ozone and the faint, metallic tang of her blood. She was bleeding from a cut on her temple, a souvenir from the chase. "Look at me. Focus on the connection.