Page 80 of The Brotherhood

That was a difficult question. “I feel… too right. Too fast.” He rolled his shoulders, testing the movement.

Quantum was already processing and Bishop angled his head, realizing he could sense something unique with him. “I can detect your fusion.”

“Quantum’s?” Harlow wondered with awe.

Bishop locked both his eyes on him, that one with too much light racing with information he couldn’t keep up withbut understood. “You were seamlessly merging with your human integration system up till that incident. Now, you only have your human components to continue that job.”

Quantum’s brows furrowed as he turned the thought over, processing.

Harlow marveled, “Did he just diagnose you?”

“He did,” Quantum said, curious. “Can you see how long before I’ll return to original functionality?”

Bishop lowered his head with a chuckle, the air in his lungs finally feeling normal. “You’re still on track to become what you were intended to be. But your human side is driving that ship.” He palmed his shoulder. “Welcome to the race of glorified glitches, mon frère. Expect normal functionality in approximately never.”

Bishop lifted his hand as snickers filled the room, studying how smoothly it moved. “I feel like maxed-out hardware with software still catching up.”

“And that eye?” 8-Bit’s voice was careful.

He inhaled, processing it. The way depth and light adjusted. The way his brain instinctively understood more than it should through it. “Optic nerve enhancement,” he said. “Adaptive vision.”

Spook exhaled. “And what the hell does that mean?”

Bishop blinked once, letting the data flicker at the edges of his sight. “I’ll give you a full rundown later.” He eyed 8-Bit. “Right now, give me your phone.”

“My phone?” he wondered, confused.

“You have his number. I heard your conversation with Spook.”

The room went dead still as 8-Bit handed him the phone without a word.

****

Sinrik stared at the screen.

It was the number from earlier.

A slow exhale left him as he connected the call. He held his tongue, not caring to speak.

“Where are you?” The voice rumbled with raw restraint. Not the same one from before. This one had a quiet, controlled fury.

“Enroute,” he said, wondering if this was the husband. And how that was possible given what happened to him. But who else would have pre-mediated murder packed in every letter of their words?

“When.”

Sinrik glanced at the navigation panel, then leaned back against the cold leather of his seat. “We’ll be in your swamp around nightfall.”

He could almost feel the leash the man held himself on. At least until he made the delivery. “Do you know what’s coming when you get here?”

Sinrik tilted his head slightly as cold calculation rolled through his muscles. “I sure do,” he said, with certainty. “We’re having a meeting of Kings.” The line was silent as Sinrik regarded the passing clouds. “Your Creole Kings, your Marsh Kings, your Quantum Kings, and… the Kings of Chaos,” he finished with a quiet grandeur he didn’t begin to feel. “I have them with me.”

The line stayed silent for a long breath. “Where is my wife.”

And there he was. The lucky fucking bastard. Living and breathing. “Our princess and the prince are sleeping.” Sinrik picked up a slow inhale. “She had a busy morning.” The barely-contained storm on the other end of the line would’ve been fun a week ago. Now, it felt like a silly game. One not worth playing since there was no possibility of winning.

“Your wife ordered an entire mountain to be devoured by the earth,” he informed.

The silence on the line felt razor-sharp.

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