Chapter 30 · Dancing on the Edge

"Don't move. Not even to breathe," Sloane hissed, her voice a razor blade against my ear.

She had me pinned against the cold alloy of the ventilation shaft. Her chest was pressed hard against my back, and I could feel the rapid, jagged thrum of her heart through her tactical gear. One wrong twitch and the laser grid three feet in front of us would turn us both into scorched carbon.

"I can't stay like this," I whispered, my voice straining. "The sync is spiking. I'm starting to bleed into you."

"Suck it up," she snapped, though I felt her grip tighten on my shoulder, her fingers digging into my skin. "We get the drive, we get out. If your genes decide to melt down, do it quietly."

I groaned, the sensation of her warmth flooding my senses. The neural sync wasn't just a survival mechanism anymore; it was becoming a parasite. Every time we touched, the barrier between us thinned. I could feel her adrenaline—sharp, metallic, and laced with a flicker of something that felt dangerously like fear. Or maybe it was anticipation.

"You're shaking," I noted, glancing back.

Her eyes were inches from mine, cold grey and lethal.