Page 2 of The Brotherhood

“From within a civilian’s amphibious rig, sir,” Morgue said, his answer steady, like this was nothing but standard inventory. “She presented herself and requested I take her with us.”

Sinrik’s pulse beat faster at his bizarre words. Requested. “Recite Directive Nine, Morgue.”

“No unauthorized entry or intake of external assets without direct clearance. No exceptions.”

“Morgue,” he said, evenly. “Report to Med-Lab One for a full neuro-diagnostic.”

“Yes, sir,” Morgue said with zero flicker, wonder, or doubt.

What the fuck was going on?

Sinrik cut the line, his gaze fixed on the breach, sitting on the cell floor. There, by a singlerequestthat bypassed Directive Nine, the cornerstone of his operation. Morgue’s calm and factual tone only underscored the magnitude of this disturbance in his carefully controlled empire. Mayhem was his first language, and he spoke it fluently. He bent chaos to his will and constructed a domain of iron control in which every element, no matter the outcome, had a home in his clenched fist.

Through years of havoc and broken allegiances, he’d discovered the music to the madness and created a symphony of anarchy with it. Control was a puppet. Mayhem was its master. And he was a Master of Mayhem.

And yet, here she was. An unforeseen anomaly. A fracture in the foundation. An uninvited guest in the intricate layers of his empire.

He drummed the tips of his fingers on the console, studying the screen until chaos churned under his composure.

He stood and left the command center, heading for the passageway leading to the lower levels. Every step tightened his focus.

There byrequest.

Morgue was not designed to even interact with such a concept. He was not capable of processing it. And yet, again, here she was.

He counted on variables in his carefully ordered anarchy—welcomed them. This was no exception. And once he was done obtaining and dissecting all the details from her, he’d let Mr. Morgue tidy his messy loose end.

****

“Neuromancer, boot up,” Quantum called out as they raced Eveque through the corridor to the medical facility.

Spook followed them into the room, tugging Seer to the side while they maneuvered the stretcher next to a humming sleek silver pod lit up with blue lights.

“Neuromancer awaiting sync,” a computerized female voice announced.

The triplets moved Eveque into the open pod, the lights casting a glow over his battered face. Every line and shadow seemed deeper than before.

The triplets stepped back, and the machine gave a mechanical hum as silver metal bars rose from along the pod bed and lowered over various parts of his body. Spook’s pulse kicked up at realizing they were padded restraints. They covered every limb before clicking, indicating they were locked in place.

“Get his vitals online,” Quantum ordered Harlow.

“They’re on the way.”

Tension gripped Spook’s lungs as another restraint closed over Eveque’s chest then rose around his head till he resembled a man gripped in metal teeth.

Seer slowly moved closer to the pod and Spook shadowed him. They stopped, watching Eveque’s chest push against the restraints with shallow breaths. The lights on the machine flickered and the restraints hummed and moved again.

“It’s calibrating to his body,” Fetch softly explained next to them, making him realize they were also watching. “It’s important he remain completely still.”

A million questions leapt on his tongue as he surrendered his Eveque to these other brothers. He clamped both hands down on Seer’s shoulder from behind, needing something to hold. “More for me than you, brother,” he muttered at his ear.

“What’s happening?” Seer whispered as the lid to the machine closed and sealed around him with a low hiss.

“The machine will scan his condition and give them a read out of his current internal blueprint,” Fetch said.

Harlow watched the monitors above the machine. “His adaptive regeneration is definitely active,” he murmured. “But…holy shit, look at the complexity of these layers.”

Quantum’s hand hovered over a panel, his golden eyes flicking between readings. “This process, at a safe pace, would take six weeks. We can narrow it to seven days with the CARP protocol which stands for Controlled Adaptive Regeneration Process. Each day targets a specific system—nerves, muscles, organs—allowing his body to heal in stages. Stabilization phases ensure his systems adapt without failure.”

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