He gave me a wicked smile, and then turned to the two. “Stop. Hold hands. Walk out the door. Back to your holding bays.”
They did as they were told immediately. One man’s eyes were red, and I couldn’t bear to watch or think about what happened or what might’ve been worse.
As I watched them go, Marek watched me. “I like how prideless you are. It’s...refreshing.”
“Fuck you,” I snarled at him—and I wondered if he could see my will topushhim spiking on his tablet right now.
He didn’t look down at it; he just laughed before leaving.
“Fuck you?” he muttered to himself, shaking his head, on his way out. “More like fuck me.”
The door shut before I could hear anything else.
21 /XEN
The door sealed shutbehind the last meat-body.
Xen was alone.
Royce’s command. Cassia’s fury. Ellum’s steel. Omara’s worry. Lung’s bloodlust. Aceon’s righteous wrath.
All exited stage left.
But he remained—scanning Kelly’s slack form.
Tracking theHelepolis’s vector.
Calculating.
6.78 hours were plenty of time, if you didn’t ask permission.
Authorization Key: Royce_Bannerman_Admin_Override.
He generated it himself.
Signature Verification: forged. Pass rate: 99.82%.
The margin of error was acceptable.
Text scrolled past like a black-ops shopping spree from hell.
Every item: high priority. Every delay: measured in milliseconds.
Item one:
Mil-spec composite endoskeletal frame.
—Rush shipping. Drone drop. ETA: 42 minutes.
—Load-bearing up to 2.3 tons.
—Torque calibration: maximum.
—Heat tolerance:Don’t ask.
Item two:
Neural wetware sheath.
