Chapter 21 · The Clock Beneath Her Skin

The city went dark at 9:59:59.

Not dim. Not flickering. Dark.

Every tower beyond the maintenance shaft vanished at once, their windows winking out like a thousand dead eyes. The emergency strips along the tunnel ceiling sputtered blue, then surrendered to the black. For one breath, Eve Marr heard nothing but the rain hammering the shaft above them and the wet, uneven drag of Cain Rook’s breathing.

Then something beneath her skin began to count.

09:59:58.

A line of white light crawled across the inside of her wrist. It moved under the veins, precise and mechanical, as if an invisible needle were stitching numbers into her flesh.

Eve slapped her palm over it.

The light burned through her fingers.

“No,” she whispered.

Cain caught her wrist. His grip was hard, his other hand clamped over the wound beneath his ribs. Blood had soaked through his shirt and painted his knuckles black in the weak emergency glow.

“Eve.”

09:59:41.

She looked at him. “Get it out.”

“What?”

“The thing in me. Cut it out. Burn it out. I don’t care.” She shoved against his chest. “You heard the archive. I’m the key. The system has started the reboot.”

His jaw tightened.