Page 26 of Eden and her Mercenary
I reached for his hand without thinking, my fingers closing around his. "I'm sorry."
"It's ancient history," he said, though we both knew it wasn't. "Point is, I couldn't save Kaiser. But maybe I can help save Stella." He met my gaze directly. "So yeah, that's why I'm here. That's why I jumped into this mess with both feet the moment I saw you with that gun in the motel parking lot, and I wanted to do this.” He took hold of my chin and kissed me. It wasn't a gentle kiss—it was urgent, desperate, full of the tension and fear we'd both been carrying. I froze for a split second before responding, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.
When we broke apart, breathing heavily, the van had gone silent. I became acutely aware of Ryker studiously focusing on the road ahead and Harrison pretending to be absorbed in her phone.
"I've wanted to do that since you pointed that gun at me," Royal admitted quietly, his forehead resting against mine.
"Not exactly a romantic first meeting," I whispered back, a small smile tugging at my lips despite everything.
"I've never been much for conventional romance."
The moment was interrupted by Ryker clearing his throat. "Truck stop ahead. Five minutes."
Reality crashed back. I reluctantly pulled away from Royal, straightening my disheveled clothes and trying to regain my composure. The neural mapper sat between us, a stark reminder of our mission.
"We should prepare to transfer the equipment," I said, all business again.
Royal nodded, though his eyes lingered on my face. "Right."
The truck stop appeared around the next bend—a brightly lit oasis in the dark countryside. Several semi-trucks were parked for the night, their drivers likely asleep in their cabs or grabbing coffee inside the 24-hour diner.
Ryker pulled around to the back of the lot, away from the main building's lights. Mack's weathered pickup was already waiting, the veterinarian leaning against the hood with his arms crossed.
"Everyone okay?" he asked as we climbed out ofthe van, his experienced eyes cataloging our various scrapes and signs of exhaustion.
"More or less," Royal replied. "You bring the supplies?"
Mack nodded toward his truck bed, where a tarp covered something bulky. "Everything Dr. Chen requested, plus a few extras I thought might come in handy."
Ryker carefully transferred the neural mapper to Mack's truck while Royal briefed him on what we'd learned. I found myself gravitating toward Harrison, who stood slightly apart from the group, her expression troubled.
"What will you do now?" I asked. "After all this?"
She sighed, gazing out at the darkness beyond the truck stop's lights. "I don't know. I can't go back to Prophecies, obviously. Junction will make sure I never work in neuroscience again."
"You could testify," I suggested. "Expose what they're doing."
"With what proof?" She gestured vaguely. "Everything's classified, locked behind security clearances and non-disclosure agreements. My word against a government contractor with deep pockets and deeper connections."
"We have Stella," I pointed out. "And soon we'll have the implant."
A spark of something—hope, perhaps—flickered in her eyes. "Maybe. If Dr. Chen can remove it intact. That would be irrefutable evidence." She hesitated, then added, "I'd like to be there. When Dr. Chen performs the procedure. I know the implant better than anyone—how it's integrated, its fail safes."
I studied her face, searching for any sign of deception. "Why should we trust you?"
"You shouldn't," she admitted candidly. "But you need me. That implant has anti-tampering protocols. If they're not properly deactivated before removal..." She trailed off, her implication clear.
Royal had finished his conversation with Mack and approached us. "Time to move. Ryker will take Dr. Harrison to a safe house we maintain outside Pearl Lake."
"She wants to be present for Stella's surgery," I told him. "Says there are anti-tampering protocols in the implant."
Royal's expression hardened. "Is that true?"
Harrison nodded grimly. "Junction's addition to the project. If unauthorized removal is attempted, the implant delivers a targeted electromagnetic pulse. Essentially fries the surrounding neural tissue."
"Jesus Christ," Royal muttered. "They really thought of everything."
"Not everything," Harrison countered. "I designedthe protocol, which means I know how to disable it."
