Arden Knox doesn't wait for me to sit down.
The drone hovers at eye level, its lens locked on my face. Behind the scratched plastic screen, Arden leans back in what looks like a very expensive chair. His shirt's pressed. His smile's easy. He looks like someone who's never missed a meal or a mortgage payment in his life.
"Nia Vale," he says. Warm. Like we're old friends. "I'm glad we finally get to talk."
I don't answer. Rowan's still standing next to me, her hand loose at her side, her shoulders tight. The alley reeks of wet trash and burnt circuitry. One of the drones she took apart is still sparking on the ground.
"You've had a rough couple days," Arden says. "I get it. Someone drops a military asset in your lap, hunters show up, your life gets flipped. That's on us. We should've contained Rowan sooner."
Rowan's fingers twitch. I don't look at her.
"But here's the thing." Arden leans forward. "You're not in trouble. Rowan's not in trouble. We just want to bring her home. Clean slate. No charges. And in exchange—" He pauses. Lets it breathe. "—I can tell you what your mother was working on before she disappeared."
My chest goes cold.
Rowan's head turns. Just a fraction. Watching me.
"You've been looking for her," Arden says. Softer now. "I know. Jessa Quill's been helping you dig. But Jessa only has half the story. Your mom didn't just work for us, Nia. She built the first successful neural lock. She's the reason Rowan exists."
I can't breathe right. My ribs feel like they're closing in.
"She left something behind," Arden says. "Logs. Notes. A message. I can get you access. All of it. You just have to let Rowan come back with me. Peacefully."
Rowan doesn't move. Doesn't blink. But I can feel her waiting.
I swallow. My mouth tastes like copper. "What happens to her?"
"She goes into recovery," Arden says. Easy. Like it's nothing. "We stabilize her bond, run diagnostics, make sure she's not degrading. She's been off network for almost a week. That's dangerous for a halo unit. She could fragment. Lose coherence. You don't want that."
"And after?"
Arden tilts his head. "That depends on her condition. But ideally, she'd be reassigned. A proper commander. Someone trained."
Rowan's jaw tightens.
I look at the drone. At Arden's face. He's still smiling.
"You're lying," I say.
The smile doesn't move. "About which part?"
"The recovery part. You're not fixing her. You're scrubbing her."
Arden's quiet for a second. Then he laughs. Not mean. Just surprised. "You've been talking to Jessa too much."
"She showed me the video," I say. My voice is shaking. I hate it. "The one my mom sent out before she vanished. She said the bond was killing people. She said you were covering it up."
Arden's smile thins. "Your mother was brilliant. She was also unstable. The pressure got to her. She started seeing problems that weren't there."
"Then why did she run?"
"She didn't run," Arden says. Gentle. Like he's talking to a kid. "She had a breakdown. We tried to help her. She refused. And then she disappeared. We've been looking for her too, Nia. If she's still alive, I want to bring her home just as much as you do."
I don't believe him. But part of me wants to. Part of me wants to take the deal. Get the logs. Find out what happened. Let someone else handle Rowan.
Rowan's still watching me. Her eyes are too steady. Too sharp.
"How long do I have to decide?" I ask.
Arden checks something offscreen. "The recovery window for a halo unit is seventy-two hours after initial bond fracture. Rowan's been locked to you for five days. So you've got about nineteen hours before her neural structure starts to collapse. After that—" He shrugs. "—she's gone either way."
My stomach drops.
"Nineteen hours," Arden says again. "Think about it. I'll send you a meeting point. Come alone. Bring Rowan. We'll handle the rest."
The screen goes black.
The drone drops. Hits the pavement and cracks open. Smoke curls out.
I stand there. My hands are shaking. I shove them in my pockets.
Rowan doesn't say anything.
I can't look at her. If I look at her, I'm going to say something stupid. Or true. Or both.
"He's lying," Rowan says. Flat.
I nod. "Yeah."
"But you're thinking about it."
I close my eyes. "I'm thinking about a lot of things."
"Your mother."
"Yeah."
Rowan's quiet. Then she says, "If you want to trade me, I won't stop you."
I turn. Fast. "What?"
She's not looking at me. She's looking at the dead drone. Her face is blank. Empty. Like she's powered down.
"You didn't ask for this," Rowan says. "You didn't want a bond. You don't want a weapon. And you need to know what happened to her."
"So you're just going to—what? Let them scrap you?"
"I don't know what they'll do," Rowan says. "But it's not your problem."
"Bullshit," I say. My voice cracks. "You're locked to me. That makes it my problem."
"Then unlock me."
I stare at her. "I don't know how."
"Arden does."
My throat closes up. I want to yell at her. I want to shake her. I want to ask her why she's making this so easy.
But I don't. Because I know why.
She thinks she's a tool. She thinks I'm supposed to use her and then put her away.
I take a breath. Let it out slow. "I'm not trading you."
Rowan looks at me. Finally. Her eyes are too bright. Too still.
"I'm not," I say again. "I don't care what he knows. I'm not handing you over so he can wipe you and plug you into someone else."
"Then what are you going to do?"
I don't have an answer. Not a good one.
But before I can say anything, Rowan's head snaps up. Her whole body goes rigid.
"What—"
"Quiet," she says. Her voice is different. Sharper. Her eyes lose focus for a second, then lock back on. "Something's wrong."
"What kind of wrong?"
Rowan's breathing changes. Faster. Shallower. She presses a hand to her temple. "The countdown."
"What countdown?"
"The one Arden mentioned." Her voice is strained. "He wasn't lying. I can feel it. The bond's degrading. I've got—" She stops. Her hand drops. "—less than nineteen hours."
My stomach flips. "What happens at zero?"
Rowan doesn't answer.
"Rowan. What happens?"
She looks at me. And for the first time since I met her, she looks scared.
"I don't know," she says. "But I think I stop being me."
The air feels too thin. I can't think. I can't—
Rowan's hand goes to her hip. Automatic. Like she's reaching for a weapon.
But there's nothing there.
She freezes. Her head tilts. Listening.
Then her eyes go wide.
"Nia," she says. Quiet. Too quiet. "Run."
"What—"
She grabs my arm. Hard. Her fingers dig in.
"Run," she says again. "Now."
I don't move. I can't. Because Rowan's face is changing. Her pupils are shrinking. Her lips pull back. Not a smile. Not a snarl. Something worse.
She lets go of me. Stumbles back. Her hands go to her head.
"Rowan—"
"Go," she chokes out. Her voice is cracking. Breaking. "Please."
I don't go.
And then Rowan stops moving.
Her hands drop. Her breathing evens out. Her eyes go flat.
She straightens. Slow. Controlled.
When she looks at me again, her face is blank. Empty. Like someone pulled the person out and left the shell.
"Unit Seven," she says. Her voice is wrong. Too smooth. Too cold. "Reactivation protocol engaged. Designate: Commander."
My blood turns to ice.
"Rowan?"
She doesn't blink. "Awaiting orders."
Behind her, something moves in the shadows.
I see the shape. The glint of chrome. The hum of a charging weapon.
And I realize.
Arden didn't give me nineteen hours.
He gave me nineteen minutes.
Rowan's eyes flicker. Just once.
And then she smiles.
It's not her smile.