Chapter 6 · Neon Dead End

"Move your ass or we both die in this vent," Sloane hissed, her voice vibrating against my ear.

She didn't just push me; she shoved me forward, her palm flat against my shoulder blade, forcing me deeper into the cramped, galvanized steel tunnel. The air smelled like ionized ozone and old grease. Every time I shifted, the metal groaned, sounding like a dinner bell for the Enforcers hunting us below.

"I'm moving," I snapped back, my voice raw. "Maybe if you didn't have your boots clunking like a damn parade, they wouldn't have heard us."

"Shut up," she whispered. She grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me back sharply as a red laser grid swept across the vent slats just inches from my face.

I froze. The heat of her hand on my skin was the only thing keeping me grounded while my genes screamed. The neural sync was spiking again—a jagged, electric current that blurred the line between my panic and her cold, calculated aggression.