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“Stop shaking, or I’ll just cut the plug-in out of your skull with a butter knife.”
Seth’s voice was a low, vibrating rasp against my ear. He didn’t just have me pinned; he had me crushed against the cold alloy of the wall, his forearm pressing into my windpipe just enough to make every breath a fight. The smell of ozone and expensive synthetic leather clung to him, masking something sharper—something like copper and decay.
I tried to jerk away, but his grip tightened. My vision flickered. The God-tier plug-in sparked in my peripheral vision, screaming a warning in neon gold: *3... 2... 1...*
I lunged left, exactly where the glitch told me he’d shift. But Seth didn’t shift. He slammed me harder into the wall, his hand snapping around my wrist and pinning it above my head with a sickening thud.
“Predicting the future, huh?” He leaned in closer, his chest brushing mine. I could feel the heat radiating off him, a stark contrast to the ice in his eyes. “Cute. But you’re fighting a ghost, little glitch. I don’t move like a human.”
“Go to hell,” I spat, coughing. “You’re an Enforcer. You’re supposed to be... corporate. Polished. You look like you’ve been dragged through a trash compactor.”
Seth didn’t flinch. He just tilted his head, his gaze dropping to my neck where the neural port was still humming. For a second, the predatory intensity in his eyes shifted. It wasn’t just hunger or hate—it was desperation.
He shifted his weight, and that’s when I felt it. A dampness. A dark, heavy stain was spreading across the side of his tactical vest. The smell of copper hit me full force now. He wasn’t just fighting me; he was leaking.
I stopped struggling. My mind raced. “You’re bleeding.”
“Shut up,” he snapped, but the edge in his voice cracked.
“No, seriously. You’re practically pouring out of your side.” I shifted my hips, trying to get a better look. “What happened? Did the corporate overlords decide you were too expensive to keep alive? Or did you finally find something you couldn’t kill?”
Seth’s expression darkened. He shoved me again, but this time it lacked the bone-crushing power from before. He stumbled, just a fraction, his breath hitching. He didn’t pull away, though. He stayed in my space, his face inches from mine, his pupils blown wide.
“You think this is a joke?” he whispered, his voice dropping an octave. “You have no idea what’s running through your head. That plug-in isn't a gift, Kaelen. It’s a beacon. And every hunter in the city is currently smelling your scent.”
“Then let them come,” I countered, my voice trembling despite myself. “At least they might be more honest than you. Why are you still here? If you’re an Enforcer, just cuff me and call it in. Why the theatrics?”
He paused. His hand shifted from my wrist to my jaw, his thumb pressing hard into the skin just below my ear. It wasn’t a caress; it was a claim. I could feel the tremor in his fingers. He wasn't just hurt—he was vibrating with some kind of internal glitch.
“Because,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine with a terrifying intensity, “the people who sent me... they don't want you alive. But I need you.”
I laughed, a jagged, ugly sound. “Need me? For what? To polish your boots?”
“To fix this.” He yanked the edge of his vest aside.
I gasped. It wasn’t just a wound. Black, oily veins were spider-webbing out from a jagged gash in his side, pulsing with a sickly violet light. It looked like a digital infection, a neural rot that was eating him from the inside out. The skin around it was grey, dead, and flickering like a corrupted texture in a bad sim.
“Neural curse,” I whispered, my hacker brain instantly cataloging the symptoms. “The Void-rot. I thought that was just a myth used to scare trainees.”
“It’s not a myth,” Seth growled, his grip on my jaw tightening. “And it’s eating my nervous system. Every second I spend chasing you, the rot climbs higher. If I don’t get a clean code-purge in the next forty-eight hours, I’m a vegetable. Or worse.”
I stared at the pulsing violet veins. The power dynamic in the room shifted so fast it made my head spin. He had the gun, the strength, and the badge. But I had the one thing that could stop him from becoming a piece of scrap metal: the ability to write the code that could purge that rot.
I leaned back, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across my lips. “So, the big bad wolf is actually a dying dog.”
Seth’s eyes flashed. He slammed me back against the wall, his body pressing firmly against mine, pinning me in place. His breath was hot against my skin, his voice a dangerous low rumble.
“Don’t mistake my condition for weakness, glitch. I can still kill you before the rot even reaches my lungs.”
“Maybe,” I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs. “But then you’ll die alone in a gutter with no one to fix your precious brain. You need me. You *desperately* need me.”
I could feel the tension between us, a wire stretched to the breaking point. He didn’t move. He didn’t pull away. For a long moment, we just stayed there, locked in a stalemate of breath and blood. His gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes, his expression a mix of disgust and raw, unfiltered need.
“What do you want?” he asked, his voice strained.
“Freedom,” I said immediately. “And a way into the Cloud District. I want the people who burned my life to see my face before I delete them.”
Seth let out a short, harsh laugh. “You’re asking for a suicide mission.”
“I’m already a dead girl walking, remember? You told me that.” I reached up, my fingers grazing the edge of his tactical collar. “So, do we have a deal, or should I just watch you rot?”
He stared at me for a heartbeat longer, then he reached into his belt and pulled out a heavy, metallic ring—a neural shackle. It wasn't for me. He held it out, his hand shaking slightly.
“If I do this,” he said, “you belong to me. Not the corporation. Not the law. Me. You go where I say, you code when I tell you, and if you even *think* about glitching out of this deal, I’ll snap your neck before you can blink.”
I looked at the shackle, then at the dying man holding it. This was madness. This was a death sentence wrapped in a golden ticket.
“Deal,” I said, reaching for the metal.
Just as my fingers brushed the cold steel, a piercing, high-frequency alarm tore through the room. The walls flashed crimson.
Seth’s head snapped toward the door, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t let go of me; instead, he yanked me closer, his arm locking around my waist as he pulled a heavy kinetic pistol from his holster in one fluid motion.
“Dammit,” he hissed, the violet veins in his neck pulsing violently. “They found us.”
I looked at the door. My plug-in flared. *3... 2... 1...*
BAM.
The door didn't just open; it exploded inward. A figure clad in matte-black stealth gear stepped through the smoke, a mono-molecular blade humming in their hand.
Seth didn't hesitate. He shoved me behind him, but as he did, the shackle snapped shut—not around my wrist, but locking our neural signatures together in a blinding flash of white light.
I screamed as a surge of raw data flooded my brain, and for the first time, I could feel his pain. His hunger. His rot.
“Don’t move,” Seth commanded, his voice sounding distorted in my head. “Because if you die, I feel it too.”