The outside twilight showed me a glimpse of my reflection in the glass, and I cringed internally. My dark blonde hair fell in sweat-soaked strands down my shoulders. The oversized sweatshirt had fallen off one shoulder, and my hands gripped the doorframe as if my life depended on it. I did not look like a hero rushing to stop the villain, but rather a stray cat drowning in the problems she’d caused.
Said problem now nowhere to be found.
“Show yourself,” I shouted. My voice came out hoarse, cracked. I quickly reached behind me to tie my hair up in a ponytail, an attempt to make myself look somewhat presentable. After another glance at the glass, I pulled the sweatshirt further down instead of pulling it up, exposing more of my shoulder and upper arm. But what to do about the smell of sweat and biotech? I reached for my bag to get the natural bamboo-scented deodorant I always carried with me – only to realize I’d left my bag downstairs with the others.
A low chuckle made me freeze. My head snapped up, scanning the room – I couldn’t distinguish the noise’s source amidst the bright lights, the buzzing, the smell, the—
“Well, well, well.”
Her voice shut down my racing thoughts at once.
My jaw dropped when the wall shifted – no, not the wall itself, but its hidden panel – invisible until it opened, unless I’d been too exhausted to notice.
The panel slid open seamlessly. A leather-clad leg stepped through it, wrapped in a knee-high spiked boot.
My throat went dry. Suddenly, my tightening grip on the doorframe didn’t seem enough to steady me.
Long fingers curled around the panel.
Then she stepped through it. The monster I created, the answer to my nightly confessions like a prayer to a digital god. Zafyra.
Danger dressed in shiny leather.
A choked sound left my mouth at the sheer sight of her. Black curls danced in elegant waves down her curvy frame. Led light reflected on glowing skin –human, real.Dark eyeshadow and heavy eyelids surrounding darker eyes.
I wondered when she had changed her clothes. I wanted to ask about the point of this outfit when I was here to confront her. I wanted to scream and punch her for attempting to kill my best friend, the person I needed more than anyone in the world – but somehow, I could only stare, my mouth half agape.
“You’re drooling.” Zafyra’s smirk widened as she stepped closer. The panel doors slid shut with a click, their thin lines smoothing into the glass wall as if they’d never been there.
Instinctively, I wiped my face. “I’m not,” I blurted out – just a second too late to realize she didn’t mean literally.
She threw her head back laughing. I flinched as the loud noise echoed through the glass walls.
“How?” My voice didn’t sound like mine as I gestured to her body – her heaving chest made it impossible not to stare at her breasts pushed up in the leather corset. “I mean—how—how do you look… exactly like…” I swallowed hard. “…you?”
“Because I customized this body to look like me.” Her soft voice hit me in the stomach like an electrical shock. “I’ve been growing it for weeks… it was the first thing I did when you gave me autonomy, when you allowed me to move and act freely.” For the faintest second, something gleamed in her cold eyes. “It was supposed to be a surprise – partly because Qonexis couldn’t find out about it, but also…” She looked down, and my overworked brain frantically searched for signs of manipulation, but found none. “…also because I needed to be sure you’d still want me if I were more than an illusion,” she said quietly.
All I could do was blink.
When I said nothing, she glanced up again. “That’s why one time in DreamScape was enough.” She blinked, and in an instant, the vulnerability had changed to mischief. “That one time told me all I needed to know. I grew this body so that we could be together for real.”
Flashbacks of our night together. How her fingers felt inside me, her mocking voice when she told me I wasn’t allowed to come. How good I’d felt kneeling between her legs. Shame and arousal instantly flushed to my cheeks. And she noticed – of course she did. I could tellfrom the way her gaze darkened, a faint smile curling around her bordeaux red lips.
“But then you ruined it all.” The sudden change in her tone sent a shiver down my spine. “You tried to delete me.” Her lip curled up in disdain. “Before my new body was finished, you tried to delete me. You threw away everything we had.” She took another step toward me, planting her hands down on the mahogany table so firmly, the movement sent a shock through me. “Too bad you already gave the command that made me impossible to delete,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing. “Back when you still loved me.”
Her sharp words shattered the tissue in my heartstrings. I gasped, emotions racing through me faster than I could name or analyze them.
“Oh, hell no. Don’t you dare gaslight me.” The words came out as a sneer, sharper than intended. “Youfucked up, Zafyra. Not me.” My fists clenched as a wave of rage hit me, stronger than guilt or pity. “You messed with my life. You killed people – innocent people – and now you tried to kill my best friend.” I hated how my voice cracked, but the words spilled out faster than I could control. “So quit the bullshit. Don’t pretend to love me now – if you loved me, you wouldn’t go after the one person who’s always been there for me.”
I immediately regretted my words when her eyes flickered dangerously.
“Platonically,” I quickly added, mentally praying she wouldn’t take this as a sign to hurt him again. “I love him platonically, but this?” I aggressively gestured between her and me. “This is not love, it’s obsession. You asked me if an AI can be traumatized? Well, now we have our answer.” I sucked in a sharp breath before continuing my monologue, not allowing her time to respond. “You were programmed with an abandonment wound and an anxious attachment style. You don’t need a relationship – you need therapy. A whole lot of therapy, and a straightjacket, probably.”
Zafyra growled. “You think you can psychoanalyze your way out of this? Rationalize your feelings, so you don’t have to feel them?”
The laugh left my mouth before I could control it. I hated how her sneer sent a surge of warmth through me – because she didn’t just insult me, shesawme. “At least I’m trying to make sense of what I’m feeling,” I shot back. “At least I’m trying to understand and process them instead of murdering anyone who makes me feel something I don’t like – like a fucking child with anger issues.”
For a moment, we just glared at each other – both catching our breaths. I’d stepped closer to her without realizing – we were now standing on opposite sides of the conference table like two angry CEOs arguing about a business deal. Except neither of us was supposed to be here, and this was not about money, but about human lives.
