Chapter 25 · Puppet Dance

“Get out of my head!” Kane roared, his voice cracking like splitting stone.

He slammed his fist into the metal bulkhead, leaving a jagged dent in the reinforced steel. His eyes weren't his own anymore—the iris had bled into a shimmering, electric violet, the signature glow of the Empire’s override protocol.

Lyra scrambled back, her boots skidding on the grimy floor of the safehouse. She didn't run, though. She couldn't. She just watched him shake, his muscles locking up in a violent spasm that looked more like a seizure than a fight.

“Kane! Look at me!” she shouted, stepping back into his space.

He didn't look. He lunged.

It wasn't a conscious attack. It was a puppet’s movement—stiff, precise, and terrifyingly fast. He pinned her against the wall in a single blur of motion, his forearm crushing her collarbone against the cold metal. His grip was iron, a suffocating pressure that made her lungs scream for air.

“Kane, stop it! You’re not doing this!” Lyra gasped, her hands frantically searching for the interface port at the base of his neck.

His face was inches from hers.