Chapter 6 · Welcome Home, Prototype

"Don't take another step, Sloane. Not one."

Victor’s voice didn't boom. It purred. He was leaning against a sleek, obsidian console in the center of the vault, looking less like a corporate titan and more like a predator who’d already won. In his right hand, he held a small, brushed-metal remote. One button. One press. That was all it took to turn Kael into a heap of dead meat.

Kael stiffened beside me. I could feel it through the link—a surge of pure, jagged adrenaline and a hatred so thick it tasted like copper in the back of my throat. His hand was still gripped tight around my wrist, his skin burning hot against mine.

"Let her go, Victor," Kael spat. His voice was a wreck, raw from screaming and blood.

Victor didn't even look at him. His eyes stayed locked on mine, cold and clinical. "You're still talking, Prototype. I thought I'd scrubbed the ego out of your sequence. Clearly, I missed a spot."

I stepped forward, my boots clicking on the polished floor. The sound echoed, too loud, too sharp.