We’d been at this for forty minutes. My body was screaming. Ribs aching, shoulder protesting every thrown punch, head building that familiar pressure behind my eyes that meant the chip was doing its slow murderous work.
I ignored all of it.
Pain was just data. And right now, I needed to prove I could function despite the information suggesting I was falling apart.
Clare was somewhere in this building. Walking the frozen grounds. Processing her confession and Maeve’s existence and the catastrophic mistake of falling for a dying man.
I pushed the thought aside. Focused on his next move.
Hellhound came at me hard. Testing. Pushing.
I met him strike for strike.
Fighting felt right. Simple. My body knew what to do even when my mind was fractured confusion.
I threw a combination that should’ve landed. He deflected. Swept my legs. I hit the concrete hard. Air exploded from my lungs.
Before I could recover, he was on me. Knee on my chest. Forearm pinning my throat.
“You’re fast. But you used to be better.” Quiet. Assessing.
I glared at him. Waited for the point.
“You had a major seizure yesterday.” His gaze stayed level. “Your symptoms seem stable now. We don’t know what could happen. Another seizure in the field means we all die.”
I shoved against his weight. He didn’t budge.
I stared up at him, chest heaving, forearm still pressed against my windpipe.
“Do you understand what I’m saying? If you come to Geneva and your brain misfires during infiltration, you become a liability we can’t afford.”
My jaw clenched. Teeth ground together. Fury burned through my ribs, hot and vicious.
I wasn’t a liability. I was a weapon. A tool.
I had to be useful.
That was all I had left.
He released the pressure, standing in one smooth motion. Extended his hand down toward me.
I ignored it completely. Rolled sideways, pushed myself upright without help.
My throat worked. Sound tried to form. Broke apart halfway.
I forced it out anyway. “I’m... going.”
The words came rough, fragmentary. Each syllable scraped out.
But there. Real. Actual sound instead of silence.
His expression didn’t shift at all. “This isn’t about bravery, Xavier. It’s about reality.”
“My codes.” I swallowed hard. “My... fight. Need to be...” The next word stuck. I shoved it out. “Useful.”
The last word came out sharper than I’d intended. Almost desperate.
I hated how it sounded. Hated more that it was true.
