SOS
Shit. That was Ash’s number—she’d made sure he could reach her before she’d left him. Something must have gone wrong.
“Dani, I’m so sorry. I’ve got to go check on Ash.”
“Is he okay?”
“I don’t know. He just sent an SOS.”
“Go.” Dani shooed her away. “I can finish this up.”
“Thank you!”
Taryn felt bad abandoning her friend when she’d begged for a distraction, but what if she’d screwed up and Ash was hurt? She raced down the hall, for once not worrying about security for the hidden room. Even if one of the women saw, they still couldn’t access it without the code.
She pounded down the steps. The hacking room was eerily quiet when Taryn stepped through the door.
“Ash?”
“Here.” His reply was muffled.
Taryn entered the chair room, nervous about what she would find.
The lights were low. A big screen had dropped down over one wall.
Huh. She hadn’t even known that was there.
Ash sat in the chair where she’d left him, still hooked into the chair.
The thought made her queasy. It would be hypocritical to rage against human–machine interfaces when she had one as well. But if she had to screw her arm on every day, that would make her sick too.
And that was just her arm. This was his brain!
The images—squiggle? symbols?—that were projected onto the screen meant nothing to Taryn. They weren’t even really images, just impressions. Is that what Ash saw? It didn’t look like speed or stars to her.
He cursed.
“Everything okay?”
“Fuck, just a little bit more.” His voice was tense, like he was in pain.
That made absolutely no sense. Was this his battle with Caspar? She’d expected something more... battle-y.
Could she talk to him when he was like this? “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” he ground out. “But I can’t focus on this and you at the same time.”
“Why send me a panicked text if you don’t need me?” Taryn snapped. She hated not knowing what was happening. As she spoke, she watched him work.
His head was practically immobile. She assumed the pin that inserted into his neck caused that. His fingers twitched on the arms of the chair.
If she didn’t know that he’d voluntarily put himself in the chair, she’d think he was being tortured.
“Are you having a seizure?” Had she screwed up when she’d opened the port? He’d said he was in the middle of the fight. If he passed out in the middle of it, the fight was over.
“No,” he ground out. “I’m used to keyboards. It’s been five fucking years since I’ve had this much brain interface. I’m out of practice. And I’m losing.”
Oh shit.
