"Touch him," Jorak says, his voice a promise of extinction, "and I will finish what I started with the grid."
No one reaches for me again.
Jorak
Medics are circling like crows, their white coats stark against the charred concrete and the dying hum of the central hub, but I don't move. I keep my back against a cooling containment pillar, Asa gathered against my chest, his weight the only thing grounding me now that the Black Current has finally stopped screaming in my marrow.
"Stand back," I say. My voice doesn't sound like mine. It's a low, serrated growl that makes the lead medic flinch and catch his breath. They don't see the way the air still shimmers around my shoulders, heavy with the threat of entropy.
"Jorak, he needs medical stabilization," Mercer's voice cuts through the chaos, smooth and infuriatingly level. He's standing twenty feet away, flanked by tactical units who look like they'd rather be anywhere else. He looks remarkably untouched for a man whose empire just turned into a pile of glass and exposed copper. "He's dehydrated, likely suffering from neural shock. Let the team do their job."
I tighten my grip, my nose pressed into the crook of Asa’s neck. He smells like vanilla, sweat, and the sharp, ozone tang of the grounding sequence. He's trembling, his breath hitching in shallow, ragged bursts against my collarbone. He isn't a job. He isn't an asset. He’s the only person who ever looked at the monster in the cage and asked what I wanted for dinner.
"Nobody touches him until Mira gets here," I rasp. My eyes find Mercer’s, locking onto that clinical, calculating stare. "If a single one of your people tries to sedate him, I’ll finish what I started with this facility. I’ll peel the rest of it back until there’s nothing left but the dirt."
Asa stirs then, a small, weak sound that vibrates against my chest. One of his hands fumbles for the front of my torn tactical vest, his fingers curling into the fabric with surprising strength for a man who just anchored a city-ending flare. He's stubborn. Even half-conscious and vibrating with energy sickness, he’s still the most difficult man I’ve ever met.
"Jorak," he whispers, his voice barely a thread of sound. "Too loud. You're... vibrating."
I force my shoulders to drop, dragging a breath into my lungs to steady the power still humming in my blood. I make myself be soft for him. It’s a skill I’m still learning, one that feels like trying to hold a dandelion in a hurricane.
"I'm here, Asa. I've got you. Mira's coming."
"Not that one," he murmurs, his eyes fluttering open for a second, unfocused and glazed with fever. He points a shaky finger toward a younger medic standing at the edge of the crowd, a woman who looks terrified but hasn't reached for a suppression cuff once. "Her. Dr. Aris. She... she likes cats. Trust her."
I look at the doctor. She swallows hard, nodding frantically. I don't know how Asa knows she likes cats, or why that's his criteria for medical safety, but I don't question it. If he says she’sthe one, then she’s the only human being allowed within five feet of us.
"Come here," I command.
The doctor approaches, her movements slow and telegraphing every intention. She doesn't have the cold, efficient look of Mercer’s usual specialists. She looks human. When she reaches us, she doesn't try to pull him away. She just checks his pulse, her touch light and trembling.
The sound of heavy boots echoes through the loading bay, and then Mira is there, shoving past a line of ESA guards like they're made of cardboard. Her hair is a mess, her coat is singed, and she looks ready to commit several felonies. She takes one look at us and then turns her glare on Mercer.
"You're done, Holt," she says, her voice echoing in the hollowed-out space. "The Unbound just finished the upload. Every archive, every blood match, every distance-test log, every containment clip of your people dragging Asa out of bed. It’s everywhere. Silas made sure it hit the public broadcast public feeds five minutes ago."
Mercer doesn't flinch, but his jaw tightens, a small muscle jumping in his cheek. It’s the first crack I’ve seen in the mask.
"You’ve caused a panic that will cost thousands of lives," he says. "Without the suppression network, the city is a ticking clock."
"The city is breathing again," Mira snaps. She walks over to us, dropping to her knees on the grit-covered floor. She puts a hand on Asa’s forehead, her expression softening into something fierce and maternal. "He’s stabilizing. Look at the monitors, Mercer. The flare-sickness is receding. The corruption is grounding itself because for the first time in twenty years, you aren't trying to bury it."
I watch Mercer. He looks like a man trying to solve an equation that’s missing half its variables. He looks at the screenslining the walls, the ones showing the stabilization levels across Redbrook. They aren't spiking. They aren't crashing. They're settling into a steady, natural rhythm, a low-level hum that the city can actually handle.
"Thorn," Mercer says, stepping forward. The tactical units shift with him, their rifles held at low ready. "The paperwork is still valid. You are an S-Class Enigma under emergency jurisdiction. Stand down and bring the Guide to the medical transport. We can still manage the transition if we move now."
I stand up. I do it slowly, keeping Asa cradled in my arms, his head resting against my shoulder. I feel taller than I did an hour ago. I feel heavier. I don't feel like a weapon anymore. I feel like a man who has finally found the thing he’s supposed to be protecting.
"I don't belong to you," I say. The words are quiet, but they carry across the bay, cutting through the sound of distant sirens and the crackle of cooling metal. "I am not your asset. I am not your soldier. And Asa is not your battery."
Mercer’s eyes narrow. "You think the law cares about your feelings? You are a danger to the public without supervision. You're an Enigma, Jorak. You're designed for containment."
"Then contain this," I say, and for a split second, I let the Black Current flare.
It doesn't explode. It just ripples out from me in a dark, jagged wave, snuffing out the electronic lights in the bay for a hundred yards. The tactical units stumble back, their gear sparking. The silence that follows is absolute.
"If anyone tries to put a collar on either of us again," I continue, my voice dropping to a whisper, "I won't just stop the nodes. I'll show the whole city what you built. I'll show them the cages. I'll show them the distance tests. I’ll make sure there isn't a place on this earth where you can hide what you are."
Mercer looks at the dark, at the soldiers who are no longer looking to him for orders, and then back at me. He knows. He knows the leverage has shifted. He knows that the secret is the only thing that gave him power, and the secret is currently being downloaded by every citizen in Redbrook.
