Chapter 7 · The Glitch Market

"Don't. Move."

Sloane's voice was a blade against my ear. The red laser dot was still dancing on my chest, right over my heart, vibrating with the steady rhythm of someone's finger tightening on a trigger. I could smell the ozone and wet asphalt of the alley, and the sharp, metallic scent of Sloane’s perfume—something that smelled like cold rain and expensive gunpowder.

"Who is it?" I whispered, my muscles locking up. "The lab?"

"Shut up," she hissed. She didn't pull me away. Instead, she stepped closer, her body pressing against my back, her hand sliding around my waist to pin me against the brick wall. The contact sent a jolt through my spine—not just the neural sync, but something visceral. "If you breathe too loud, we both get a new hole in our lungs."

I looked at the wall beside us. That damn logo. A stylized double helix entwined with a jagged line. My head throbbed, a sudden spike of white noise screaming behind my eyes. It wasn't just a memory; it was a trigger.