“Override,” my compad pulses. One word, bleeding white onto the black display.
Override.
I swallow. My fingers shake. I crawl forward, press the pad against a console panel. It’s as raw and real as when I designed this game months ago. I’d never expected I’d have tolivein it, code it with my own blood.
Cable ports scramble into view. I pull out a flex-wire, jam it in. The compad port flickers, then opens. I watch code scroll upthe screen like fire—lines I know, traps I built, logic I tested. The backdoor I left, the vulnerabilities I hoped no one would ever find.
My heart pounds. The purple light pulses in sync. The Maze reads to me. It shivers.
I force control. Commands unlock locks. Panels behind the door hiss. The door groans. I nearly drop the compad.
The door slid open. Reality tastes like sweat and ozone. I see corridors reconfigure. The Maze’s walls bleed away, reshaping.
He’s there.
Gyon.
Bleeding. Clawed open panel behind him. His shirt shredded, ribs bruised, hair plastered to his brow. His eyes burn with shock, with relief, withallof it.
My mouth opens. I should scream, I should shout. Instead I stand frozen.
He staggers forward. His chest heaves. He collapses into my arms. I feel steel-warm blood soaking my sleeve. I breathe in him—smoke and ozone, a scent that speaks only of him.
“I heard you cry,” he whispers, voice rough silk. It’s not a demand. It’s a confession. My tear ducts break. I’m not angry. I’m not wise. I break.
“Where—how—why are you here?” I manage, voice trembling.
He presses his face to my shoulder. “I had to come. The Maze was splitting. They separated us. I tracked you. When I heard—” He struggles to stand. “When I saw you on the sealed side, I—I didn’t know if you’d die or hate me. But I knew you were crying. I had to?—”
I push him back, hands trembling. Blood glistens on his skin. “You could’ve died.”
He pinches his lips. “I almost did. But not before I came.”
My chest caves in around his words. Gyon. Monster. Reaper. Guardian. What the hell do I call a man who stormed through a dying Maze to reach me?
“You used my name as a weapon,” I whisper, wiping a smear of blood from his jaw. “You—you branded me.”
He closes his eyes. His smile is fierce, broken. “Yeah. And I’m sorry for that. I did. But not to hurt you. To find you.”
“Took you so long.” My voice cracks. The ache between my ribs finds a rhythm in my pulse. It isn’t pain. It’s need. Raw and terrifying.
“I was lost,” he says, breath trembling. “But when I heard the scream—I heard you—I found the door.”
He holds me like I’m fragile. But I’m not. Not with him.
The Maze shifts behind us, but I don’t look. I press closer. “We rewrite it. Together.”
His body twitches. His arms tighten around me.
And then I’m kissing him.
There’s no poetry in it. Just heat. Tongue. Teeth. The groan he lets out is low, primal, vibrating through me. I taste blood and salt and desperation.
He backs me into the wall, massive hands spreading over my hips. Bone spurs skim my waist, jagged and hot from the fight. His cock hardens between us, thick and hot, grinding through his leathers against my core.
I shiver. My body wakes all at once.
“Liora,” he rasps, mouth against my throat, “tell me to stop.”
