Chapter 9 · Blood Pact

"Get your hands off me before I rip them off," I spat, though my voice sounded like I’d been swallowing glass.

Jaxon didn't budge. He had me pinned against the rusted bulkhead of the safehouse, his chest pressing into mine, his breath hot against my ear. He wasn't just holding me; he was anchoring me, his fingers digging into my shoulders as my body jerked in another Glitch spasm.

"Shut up and focus, Kael," he growled. "If you let that thing take over now, Victor doesn't even have to hunt us. He just waits for you to delete yourself."

I tried to shove him back, but my left arm locked up, the servos whining in a high-pitched scream. The other *me*—the cold, calculating bitch living in my head—was clawing for the wheel. I could feel her. She wasn't a ghost; she was a protocol, and she wanted me gone.

"You signed the order," I hissed, my face inches from his. I could see the gold flecks in his eyes, the tiny tremor of guilt he couldn't hide. "You told them to scrap me.