Chapter 7 · Slum Survivors

"Don't move, Jett. Not a single muscle," Reign’s voice was a low vibration against my ear, his chest pressing me hard into the damp brick of the alleyway.

I could feel the heat radiating off him, the kind of artificial warmth that felt too clean for a place that smelled like rotting synth-meat and ozone. My wrist was still screaming—that glowing chain mark from the contract searing into my skin like a brand.

"Who is it?" I hissed, trying to twist my head.

"Shut up and look," he whispered.

At the mouth of the alley, a figure stepped into the flickering neon light. It was Bax. He’d lived next door to me for three years. He’d shared his last ration of nutrient paste with me when the System first crashed. Now, his eyes weren't brown anymore. They were glowing a jagged, electric violet.

"Jett?" Bax called out. His voice sounded wrong—layered, like two people were speaking at once. "I know you're there. I can smell the Level Zero on you. It’s disgusting. It’s like... stagnant water."

I stepped out from behind Reign, my boots splashing in a puddle of iridescent oil. "Bax?