Chapter 8 · Iron Arena - Chapter 8: Burned Names

The clinic smells like burnt copper and antiseptic. I hate it here.

Ivy's waiting in the back room, arms crossed, looking like she hasn't slept in three days. Probably hasn't. The underground circuit doesn't run on daylight hours. Lila's beside me, quiet for once. She's been quiet since the screen lit up last night. League scouts. Her ID flagged. She doesn't know what that means yet.

I do.

"Sit," Ivy says. Not a request.

Lila drops into the chair across from Ivy's cluttered desk. I stay on my feet. Old habit. Ivy doesn't look at me, just slides a thin foil packet across the table. Neural suppressants. Black market grade.

"Those are for her?" I ask.

"No. Those are for you." Ivy taps the packet. "You're still not taking them."

"I'm fine."

"You had a seizure two weeks ago in the middle of a training run. Thorne told me."

Lila's head snaps toward me. "You what?"

I ignore her. "Thorne talks too much."

"Thorne wants his investment alive," Ivy says. Her voice is flat, clinical. She's good at that. "And you're not fine, Cole. Your neural sync scarring is getting worse. If you keep pushing—"

"I'm not here for me."