Chapter 7 · Ghost Signal - Chapter 7: Memory Has Teeth

The voice on the recording begged me not to shoot.

It was my voice.

I kept the pistol aimed at Old Yuan's chest anyway, because apparently my brain had decided tonight was a great time to become a haunted house.

The market around us didn't stop. It never did. Somebody yelled over the price of filtered water. A generator coughed smoke through the back hall. Metal shutters rattled whenever the train passed overhead.

But inside Yuan's little booth, everything went thin and sharp.

The cracked monitor on his desk kept replaying the footage.

Green night vision. A warehouse. Me in old unit armor, helmet gone, blood down one side of my face. My rifle was up.

A woman knelt on the concrete in front of me.

Same build. Same shaved undercut. Same stupid scar through the left eyebrow.

Me.

"Turn it off," I said.

Old Yuan's hands stayed where I could see them. "I didn't make it. I just bought the file. Big difference. Morally? Maybe not. Financially? Huge."

"Turn it off."

"Lin. Kid. You can't shoot a recording."

"Watch me."

Zero's voice moved softly across the inside of my skull. "Your pulse is one hundred and thirty-two.