Chapter 9 · Not My Brother

"Get the hell away from him, Jett!"

Reign’s voice didn't just shout; it commanded. He slammed into me, his shoulder hitting mine with enough force to send me reeling back against the cold metal plating of the lab wall. He didn't let go. He stepped into my space, his chest nearly brushing mine, his hand locking around my wrist like a vice.

"He’s not what you think," Reign hissed, his eyes scanning the room, not me.

I ripped my arm back, my skin stinging where he’d gripped me. "He’s my brother, you glitchy piece of hardware! Get out of my way!"

I didn't wait for an answer. I lunged toward the tank.

It was a massive, reinforced cylinder of amber fluid, humming with a low-frequency vibration that made my teeth ache. Inside, suspended by thick, pulsing cables that looked like synthetic veins, was Milo.

But it wasn't Milo. Not the one who used to steal extra nutrient paste for me in the vats.

His skin was a translucent, sickly grey, stretched tight over a frame that had been... expanded. Bone-white plates of organic armor had burst through his shoulders and ribs, jagged and sharp.