Seb and Ghost continued talking, but their voices faded to static. I watched them—really watched them—as though I might not see them again.
Maybe I wouldn’t. Not when I had to disappear before the 36-hour window ran out. Not if I chose to protect them all by walking into Romano’s trap.
I sighed heavily. “I’ll go see them.”
I made my way toward the clinic, my footsteps slower than usual. As I passed Amelia’s room, a vision blindsided me—cold and vivid—someone unplugging her ventilator, slipping away unseen.
No. Fuck. Don’t think like that.
But this was already harder than I imagined. How was I supposed to leave her behind? Alone?
I’ll find a way. I’ll protect her. Even if I have to do it from the other side of hell.
I pushed open the door to Ronan’s room.
“Zane?” My voice was soft, like I was approaching something wild and wounded. Because I was.
He sat hunched beside Ronan’s bed, his fingers tangled together, his eyes hollow and red. Ronan lay motionless, tethered to tubes and monitors—just like Amelia.
Zane didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe—until he finally looked at me.
Fuck.
His face was covered in bruises, his tattoos on his neck unidentifiable due to the purplish hue.
“The bastard…” His voice cracked like glass. “The bastard saved me instead of himself.”
And just like that, everything holding him together shattered. He broke. A raw, guttural sob tore out of him, and he collapsed inward, lost in it.
I was at his side in a heartbeat, pulling him into a hug, gripping him like I could keep both of us from falling apart.
Guess we were both drowning in the same goddamn nightmare. And neither of us had woken up yet.
Zane’s sobs slowly began to fade, turning into shallow breaths and trembling shoulders. I held on a moment longer before easing back, gripping his arm in a silent offer of strength.
“He’ll make it,” I said quietly, eyes flicking to Ronan’s pale, unmoving form.
Zane gave me a fragile smile. It was the kind that barely held together, but still reached his eyes.
“She’ll make it too,” he whispered.
My chest cracked open. I nodded, because I couldn’t say anything else. Because if I did, I’d fall apart in front of him.
It should’ve been a moment. A rare, unspoken understanding. I should’ve felt comforted, even hopeful.
But I didn’t.
Because this brother—the one who’d created the Sentrix architecture line by line, bit by bit—was going to hate me when the sun came up.
He didn’t know yet. None of them did.
He didn’t know that the thing he built was the same thing I was about to steal.
That while he sat here broken and trusting, I was calculating how to rip a hole in the heart of everything he built… and hand it to our enemies just to keep our people breathing.
He didn’t know I’d already packed the prototype. Already encrypted the keys. Already chosen tonight to vanish.
And when he woke up tomorrow and realized what I’d done—he’d never look at me the same way again.