Chapter 8 · Before the Ninth

The first memory guard came through the door with a pulse rifle already firing.

Seren shoved Ian sideways.

Blue light tore through the room and punched a smoking hole in the wall where his chest had been. Ian hit the floor hard, one hand clamped over his ribs. The black emotion box rolled from the table and cracked against his knee.

Nora fired back.

Her pistol barked twice. The guard’s helmet snapped sideways, but the armor held. A second guard pushed through the broken doorway behind him.

"Move!" Nora yelled.

"He can’t move," Seren said.

Ian tried anyway. His legs folded under him.

Seren caught him by the collar before his head hit the floor. His skin felt cold. Not normal cold. Dead-fountain cold, the kind that made her fingers ache.

The room smelled like burned metal, blood, and the bitter coffee Ian had forgotten beside the memory console.

"You got a better plan?" Nora shouted.

"Yes. We get out."

"That’s not a plan. That’s a wish with shoes on."

Another pulse round slammed into the table. The console screamed.