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"The heart in your chest was supposed to be mine."
Vera says it through the door. Mandarin. Flat. Like she's reading a grocery list.
I'm still sitting on my bed. My ribs go cold—not Alpha's mechanical cold. Human cold. The kind that starts in your gut and doesn't stop.
Maybe if I don't move she'll think I'm asleep. Maybe she'll go back to her room and I can climb out the window and just run—
The door opens.
Vera's still in her work clothes. Blazer, pencil skirt, hair pulled back so tight it looks painful. She's holding a tablet. The screen lights up her face and I can see she hasn't slept. Her eyes are red-rimmed and raw.
She closes the door. Stands there.
"I sent the report ten minutes ago," she says. Still Mandarin. Still flat. "Defense will have a team here in forty minutes. Maybe less."
My throat's sandpaper. "Vera—"
"Don't." She cuts me off. Switches to English. "Don't lie to me. Not now."
She holds up the tablet. My face stares back. The hospital ID shot from three weeks ago. Next to it, a rotating schematic—blue and silver, spinning slow. A mechanical heart.
The specs match.
"I ran the dimensions twice," Vera says. Her voice shakes now. Just a little. "Your chest X-ray. The field reports from X-07's last fight. Same power signature. Same alloy composition."
She steps closer. I want to back up but the wall's already against my shoulders.
"You're X-07," she says. "You've been killing those things in the streets while I've been trying to find you."
I open my mouth. Nothing.
*Alpha. Alpha, I need you—*
Silence.
No.
Not silence.
Ticking.
The heartbeat in my chest isn't a heartbeat anymore. It's a countdown. Mechanical. Precise. Each beat exactly one second apart.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Vera sees my face change. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." My voice cracks.
"Iris." She takes another step. Close enough to touch now. "Tell me what's happening."
"I don't—" I stop. Try again. "How did you know? About the heart. That it was supposed to be yours."
Her jaw tightens. She looks away.
"Three years ago I volunteered for the Mechanized Cardiac Augmentation trial," she says quietly. "MCA-07. Second year of med school. Dad said it'd be good for my career. Defense applications, military funding. I'd be helping develop the future of combat medicine."
She laughs. Bitter.
"I passed all the screenings. Physical, psych, genetic compatibility. They built the heart for me. Custom alloy blend, neural interface tuned to my brainwave patterns. I was supposed to be the seventh test subject."
The ticking gets louder.
"Then the first six died," Vera continues. "Rejection. The hearts were too aggressive. They'd try to optimize the host and the immune system would attack. Organ failure in seventy-two hours."
She looks back at me. Her eyes are wet.
"They shut it down. Destroyed the prototypes. Told me I was lucky I never got implanted." She swallows. "But they didn't destroy all of them. Did they."
I can't breathe.
"Vera, I didn't—I didn't know—"
"Three weeks ago you flatlined in a subway explosion." Her voice shakes harder. "They pronounced you dead. And then you woke up with a metal heart in your chest."
She reaches out. Slow. Like I'm something that might bolt.
Her palm presses against my sternum. Right over the scar.
The ticking stops.
One second of total silence.
Then Alpha's voice comes through. Not in my head. Out loud. From somewhere inside my ribs.
**"Host rejection protocol engaged."**
Vera jerks her hand back. "What—"
**"Current host incompatible. Original designation: Vera Chen. Genetic match confirmed within thirty centimeters. Initiating retrieval sequence."**
"No." I try to stand. My legs don't work. "No, Alpha, stop—"
**"Override rejected. Manufacturer remote access detected. Compliance required."**
My chest seizes. Something inside trying to claw its way out.
I hit the floor.
Vera's screaming. I think she's screaming. I can't hear over the sound—metal grinding metal, gears trying to reverse—
**"System shutdown in sixty seconds. Please remain calm. Retrieval team en route."**
"Iris!" Vera's hands on my shoulders. "Iris, talk to me—"
I can't. I'm trying to breathe but the heart isn't pumping. It's pulling. Contracting inward. Getting ready to rip itself out.
Fifty seconds.
Vera's crying now. Fully crying. Holding my face and saying something in Mandarin I can't understand.
Forty seconds.
My phone buzzes.
Vera grabs it off the bed. Looks at the screen. Her face goes white.
"Who is this," she whispers.
She turns the phone toward me. I can barely see through the black spots.
Unknown number. One message.
**"Bring her to the car. Five minutes. Or I activate full extraction."**
Thirty seconds.
Vera looks at the window. At me. At the phone.
"I'm not letting them take you," she says.
She hooks her arms under my shoulders and drags me toward the door. I try to help but my body's not responding. The heart's pulling so hard I think my ribs are going to crack.
Twenty seconds.
Hallway. Vera's half-carrying me toward the front door. I can hear her breath hitching. Feel her hands shaking.
"Stay with me," she's saying. "Iris. Stay with me."
Ten seconds.
Door open. Cold air hits my face.
Black car at the curb.
Back door opens.
Someone steps out. Tall. Expensive coat. I know that silhouette.
Five seconds.
"Hello, Vera," Dad says.
He looks at me. Smiles.
"And Subject Seventeen. Welcome home."
The heart stops pulling.
Just stops.
I'm gasping on the sidewalk and Dad's walking toward us. Two men in tactical gear behind him. No patches. No insignia.
Vera steps in front of me. "Stay back."
"Vera." Dad's voice is gentle. Reasonable. The same tone he used when he told her which med school to attend. "You sent the report to Defense. You did your duty. Now let me handle this."
"You knew." Vera's shaking. "You knew she had the heart. You knew the whole time."
"Of course I knew." Dad stops three feet away. "Who do you think authorized the implantation?"
The world tilts.
Vera's breath catches. "What?"
"The MCA project wasn't shut down," Dad says. "It was privatized. My company bought the assets. We've been running field tests for two years." He looks at me. "Seventeen subjects. Sixteen failures. And one breakthrough."
He nods to the men.
"Bring her to the lab. Vera, you can come if you'd like. I think you'll find the data fascinating."
Vera doesn't move.
One of the men steps forward. Reaches for me.
Alpha's voice comes back. Different. Colder.
**"Manufacturer override rejected. New operator accepted. Host priority: Iris Chen."**
My heart starts again.
Not ticking.
Pounding.
I feel metal sliding under my skin. Wrapping around bone. The mechanical arms deploy from my shoulders and I'm standing before I realize I'm moving.
The man stops.
Dad's smile fades.
"Interesting," he says. "Alpha, cease resistance. Authorization code Hotel-Seven-Tango-Nine."
**"Authorization code rejected."**
Dad's face goes hard. "Override. Manufacturer priority alpha-niner-zero."
**"Unable to comply. Core directive updated. Protect Iris Chen. All other commands void."**
Silence.
Dad stares at me. At the mechanical arms extending from my back. At my chest where the heart's glowing through my shirt—blue light, steady, no longer ticking.
"How," he says quietly.
I don't know. Don't care.
"Vera." I don't look away from Dad. "Run."
"I'm not leaving you—"
"Run!"
Dad signals. The two men move.
I move faster.
First one goes down with a mechanical fist through his chest plate. Second pulls a weapon—some kind of electric prod—and I rip it out of his hands and throw it into the street.
Dad doesn't run. Just watches.
"Seventeen," he says. "You're coming home eventually. You know that."
I'm breathing hard. Arms still deployed. Still ready.
"My name," I say, "is Iris."
He smiles again. Doesn't reach his eyes.
"We'll see how long that lasts." He gets back into the car. Looks at Vera. "She has seventy-two hours before the heart starts rejecting her again. If you want her to live, you'll bring her to me."
The car pulls away.
I stand there. Arms still out. Heart still pounding.
Vera's behind me. I can hear her crying.
"Iris," she whispers. "What do we do?"
I don't have an answer.
Inside my chest, Alpha speaks.
**"Rejection protocol suspended. Estimated time until next manufacturer override attempt: unknown. Recommendation: eliminate threat."**
"We run," I say.
Vera's hand finds mine. Her fingers are shaking.
"Where?"
I look at the empty street. At the houses with their dark windows. At the city lights in the distance.
Seventy-two hours.
Three days before my body tries to kill me.
"I don't know," I say. "But we figure it out together."
Vera squeezes my hand.
Behind us, something moves in the shadows.
I turn.
Nothing there.
But Alpha's voice comes through, quiet and cold.
**"Warning: hostile signature detected. Distance: forty meters. Closing."**
I pull Vera back toward the house.
"Inside. Now."
"What—"
"Now!"
We're through the door when the street explodes.
Glass shatters. The shockwave throws us into the hallway. My ears are ringing and I can taste blood and something's burning—
I look back through the broken doorway.
A figure stands in the crater where the sidewalk used to be. Tall. Armored. Glowing red where my heart glows blue.
Another one.
Another subject.
The figure tilts its head. Looking at me.
**"Target acquired,"** a voice says. Not Alpha's voice. Deeper. Mechanical.
**"Subject Seventeen. Elimination authorized."**
It starts walking toward the house.
Vera grabs my arm. "Iris—"
"Back door," I say. "Go."
"What about you—"
"I'll buy time. Go!"
She hesitates one more second. Then runs.
I turn back to the figure.
It's at the door now. Ducking through. Pieces of the frame crumbling around it.
My arms deploy fully. Alpha's countdown ticks in my head.
**"Hostile unit identified: Subject Twenty-Three. Combat capability: superior. Recommendation: retreat."**
"Not an option," I say.
The figure stops in the hallway. We're ten feet apart.
**"Subject Seventeen,"** it says. **"You are malfunctioning. Manufacturer recall in effect. Comply or be terminated."**
"Try it," I say.
It moves.
I move.
We hit the wall and the whole house shakes.
Somewhere behind me, Vera screams my name.
And Subject Twenty-Three's fist slams into my chest, right where the heart is glowing, and everything goes