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"Iris, oh my god." Vera's voice cracked through the speaker. "Where are you?"
I hit answer without thinking. Bad move. Alpha didn't stop me, which meant it wanted this conversation to happen.
"I'm fine," I said. My voice came out flat. Wrong. "Just finishing deliveries."
"Bullshit. The subway attack's on every channel. You were there."
She was crying. Vera never cried.
I looked down at my arm. Still smoking. Not actual smoke—heat waves, like asphalt in summer. The skin along my elbow was blistered where the metal plates folded out. Black and red and shiny.
No way to hide that.
"I'm coming home," I said. "Twenty minutes."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
I hung up. Shoved the phone in my pocket and started climbing. The fire escape was three floors straight up and my legs didn't want to work. Alpha had dragged me through two more bug fights like a puppet on strings. I didn't remember their faces. Just crystal and blood and my arm doing things I didn't tell it to.
"Alpha."
Nothing.
"Alpha, fix this. She's gonna see."
The metal lump in my chest just kept beating. Steady. Mechanical. Like it didn't care if my sister found out I was falling apart.
I dragged myself up the last three floors. Our apartment was at the end—604, peeling paint, door that stuck when it rained. I had my key out when the door opened.
Vera stood there in her Defense Ministry scrubs. Blue with white piping. Hair pulled back. Lab badge still clipped to her collar. She looked perfect even after a twelve-hour shift.
Then she saw my face.
"Jesus, Iris."
She pulled me inside. I tried to argue but she was already steering me toward the bathroom. Her hands were shaking.
"Sit."
I sat on the toilet lid. She turned on the light and I watched her face change. The blisters looked worse under fluorescent.
"What happened?" Her voice went cold. Doctor voice. "Were you in the blast zone?"
"Oven malfunction. At the restaurant." The lie came out smooth. I'd gotten good at lying. "Oil splatter."
"That's third-degree." She pulled out the first aid kit from under the sink. "You need a hospital."
"Can't afford it."
"Dad would—"
"I'm not asking Dad for money."
She went quiet. Started cleaning the burns with something that stung like hell. I bit down on my tongue and tasted copper.
We hadn't been in the same room like this in months. Usually she was at work or I was delivering or we were both pretending the other one didn't exist. Easier that way. She was the perfect daughter. I was the dropout. Clean categories.
But her hands were gentle. Careful.
"You should quit that job," she said.
"Which one? I have three."
"All of them. Move back home."
"No."
She wrapped gauze around my forearm. Didn't look at me. "You're gonna kill yourself working like this."
The metal heart in my chest did a weird double-beat. Like it was laughing.
I almost told her. Right then. The words were in my throat—*there's something in my chest, I've been killing monsters, I don't know what's happening to me.*
Then I saw the lab badge on her collar.
Defense Ministry. Biological Threat Assessment Division.
She worked for the people looking for me.
"I'm fine," I said. "Really."
She taped the gauze down. Stepped back. Her eyes were red.
"I thought you were dead," she said quietly. "When I saw the news. I thought—" She stopped. Shook her head. "Never mind. You're here. That's what matters."
She threw the bloody gauze in the trash and washed her hands. I watched her shoulders. Tight. Stressed.
She was holding something back too.
"Rough day?" I asked.
She laughed. It sounded broken. "You could say that. They brought in samples from the subway site. Biological material. We've never seen anything like it."
My stomach dropped.
"What kind of material?"
"Crystalline structure. Organic base. It's not from any known species." She dried her hands on a towel. Wouldn't look at me. "Command thinks it's a weapon. Engineered. They're trying to trace the source."
The X-07 chip was burning a hole in my jacket pocket. I kept my face blank.
"Sounds intense," I said.
"It is." She turned around. Her face was pale. "And there's more. Eyewitness said someone fought the thing in the tunnel. Killed it. But when the teams got there, all they found was crystal fragments and a blood trail."
She was staring at me now. Looking for something.
"They're calling the person Agent X-07," she said. "No visual ID. Just reports of mechanical augmentation. Military-grade. But no one in the database matches the profile."
My mouth went dry.
"Maybe it's classified," I said. "Black ops or whatever."
"That's what I thought." She folded the towel. Precise. Controlled. "But I ran the signature myself. The augmentation tech? It's not current-gen. It's experimental. From a program that got shut down three years ago."
"Why'd they shut it down?"
She met my eyes.
"Test subjects kept dying. Heart rejection. The cybernetics were too aggressive. Organic tissue couldn't handle the integration."
The metal lump in my chest did another weird beat. Harder this time. I pressed a hand to my sternum and tried to keep breathing.
"You okay?" Vera asked.
"Yeah. Just tired."
She watched me for another second. Then nodded. "Get some rest. I need to finish my report."
She walked out. I heard her door close down the hall. Then the sound of her laptop booting up.
I sat on the toilet for a long time. Staring at the gauze on my arm. Thinking about crystal bugs and experimental hearts and sisters who analyzed monsters for a living.
Finally I got up. Went to my room. Barely bigger than a closet—single bed, cracked dresser, window that faced the alley. I locked the door and pulled out the X-07 chip.
It was still glowing. Faint blue light in the dark.
"Alpha," I whispered. "What is this?"
Nothing.
"Alpha, answer me."
Still nothing. But my chest felt tight. The metal heart was beating faster. Like it knew something I didn't.
I shoved the chip into my pillowcase and collapsed on the bed. Every muscle hurt. Burns, bruises, the weird ache that came from having your body hijacked by military AI.
Down the hall, I heard Vera's door open.
Footsteps.
Then the sound of her typing. Fast. Urgent.
I got up. Crept to my door. Cracked it open.
Vera was at the kitchen table. Laptop open. She had files spread out—printed reports, photos, something that looked like a spec sheet. She was comparing two images on the screen.
One was a scan of crystal fragments.
The other was a schematic.
A heart.
Mechanical. Experimental. With a serial number stamped across the bottom.
X-07.
She zoomed in on the schematic. Then pulled up another file. Medical records. A photo.
My photo.
From the hospital. Three weeks ago. When they said I had a car accident and gave me the metal heart.
Vera stared at the screen. Her face went white.
Then she opened a new window. Started typing. I couldn't see what she was writing but I saw the recipient field.
*Defense Ministry. Priority Alert. Subject: Agent X-07 Identity Confirmed.*
I stopped breathing.
She hit send.
Then she closed the laptop. Stood up. Looked straight at my door.
I stepped back into the shadows. Prayed she didn't hear my heart.
But it wasn't beating anymore.
It was ticking.
Loud. Mechanical. Like a countdown.
Vera walked toward my room. Her footsteps were slow. Careful. Like she was approaching something dangerous.
She stopped outside my door.
"Iris," she said quietly. "I know you're awake."
I didn't move. Didn't breathe.
"The heart in your chest," she said. "It was supposed to be mine."