“What the hell?”
Crossed to the equipment. “Stay still. Need another shot. More focused.”
Second X-ray. Targeted.
Image developed.
Clear this time. Unmistakable.
Chip.
Not shrapnel. Not accident. Electronic components visible in the imaging. Positioned near C7 vertebra with surgical accuracy.
Someone put this there deliberately.
Size: few millimeters. Placement: near spinal cord but not touching. Shape: manufactured.
Tracking device? Medical monitoring? Neural interface? Control mechanism?
Each possibility more disturbing than the last.
This changed everything.
Someone did this to him. Surgically. With purpose.
Xavier’s palm reached for the back of his neck, fingers pressing against skin like he could feel the chip beneath.
Shock broke across his face. Then darker emotions, betrayal, horror, fury.
Someone cut him open. Implanted this thing. Treated him like property.
Fierce protectiveness surged through my chest. The intensity surprised me. Too much, too fast. But I couldn’t suppress it.
Crossed to him. Wrapped my fingers around his wrist, pulled his touch away from his throat.
Raw emotion met my attention. Lost.
“I know.” Rough. “I’m so sorry.”
He yanked the notepad toward himself. Pen moving in sharp strokes.
More? Check everywhere.
Dread coiled in my stomach.
“Okay. Full body scan.”
The process took an hour. Systematic search through every area. Skull, chest, abdomen, spine, arms, legs, pelvis.
Each clear scan brought relief mixed with mounting confusion.
By the time I finished, the X-ray equipment wheezed from extended use. Xavier’s face had gone pale. My shoulders screamed.
Every image showed the same result.
Just the one chip.
Both of us stared at the X-rays spread across the light board. The single cervical anomaly glowed in stark relief.
