Morazin’s smile tightens. “Even if I did, why would I hand it to you?”
“Because it’s your only leverage,” I say. “And because the Nine is already writing your obituary.”
Morazin’s gaze flickers—anger, fear, something like hatred.
Then he goes still.
Too still.
My instincts flare like a siren.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
Morazin’s eyes widen slightly—surprise flashes for a fraction of a second, like something in his mouth just changed texture.
Then his lips curl.
“Oh,” he says softly. “That.”
My blood turns to ice.
Lonari steps forward, hand already reaching for Morazin’s jaw, but it’s a second too late.
Morazin bites down.
Hard.
There’s a faint crack sound—tiny, but unmistakable.
A sharp metallic scent hits the air, like a battery just got punctured.
Morazin’s eyes gleam with triumph. “Panic protocol,” he whispers.
And then?—
My compad screams.
Not a literal scream, but a proximity alarm, a Kaijen scanner alert flaring red across the holo display:
UNAUTHORIZED BEACON SIGNAL DETECTED — SHORT RANGE — ACTIVE
“Where—” I start, heart hammering.
Lonari grabs Morazin’s face, wrenching his jaw open with brutal efficiency. Morazin gags, coughing.
Something glints in the back of his mouth.
A tooth.
No—something embedded in the tooth. A tiny transmitter module, now cracked and bleeding signal like an open wound.
“Son of a—” I gasp.
Lonari’s voice is a low snarl. “Rook!”
Footsteps thunder outside the room. Doors slam. Voices shout in Kaijen dialect.
Jordan’s brain, the part that survives, snaps into action.
