Page 111 of GlitchBorn Heart

Jett’s laugh sounds menacing. “Risky. Beautiful. Dangerous. Perfect.” He stares directly at me. “You’re sure you want to put her in there, Kael? What if he brings everything down, and Lyra is with him inside when he does?”

“She’s the key.” Kael walks over and takes my hand. Goosebumps crawl up my skin. “She understands the system almost as much as I do. She’ll find her way back to me. Or I’ll go in and destroy what’s left to find her.”

My heart skips not once but several times. He’s saying he’ll destroy his life’s work and destroy himself to save me.

With perfect timing, Ash slings the guitar strap over his head. His grin is that of a man about to leap out of a plane without a parachute. “I look damn good in a fedora!”

Ember glares and slaps him on the arm. “You always look damn good, now shut up!”

Ash just leans closer, lowering his voice, making her pale cheeks blush. “What if I just wear the hat and nothing else?”

Her jaw tightens, and she mutters, “I’d break the guitar over your head.”

I giggle at the much-needed distraction. Something’s changed between them. I must have a girl talk with Ember next time we’re alone.

Kael exhales loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can you two save the foreplay until we’re not planning a near-death scenario?”

Ash winks at Ember, unbothered. “See? Even Kael thinks it’s foreplay.” His brows raise and lower.

I let a full laugh escape, but it’s small in comparison to what I feel. “I appreciate all of you doing this for Eli...and for me.” I glance at Kael; his dark gaze is locked on me. For a moment I almost forget he’s the reason we’re here in the first place.

It’s all nervous smiles, then everyone disperses, and Kael leads me to his office. “You’re so brave.” He brushes a strand of hair from my face. “Please promise me you won’t do anything reckless.” His lips land on mine. Stars. He feels so good, but it doesn’t feel right.

I pull away from him, resisting every urge inside my body. “Recklessness is how I stay alive.”

43

RescueMission

Playlist: Midnight - Caravan Palace

Lyra

Night falls like a curtain over the city that never sleeps.

I jack into GameNet through the new door I created earlier this afternoon, nervous energy proving to be useful for once in my life. Eli is set to meet me here, a rare stroke of luck I was able to bleed into the security system and tell him to meet me tonight.

He was confident he could get around Vikktor’s containment and access GameNet. I reassured him I would try to get him out through the game, but I failed to mention anyone else’s help. Especially Kael’s.

Everyone else is seated in the chairs around the central console. In unison, they twist their DreamBands, readying to take the door to GameNet.

I also step through. The world unfolds before me as usual. The lab drops away, and the GameNet door swallows us whole in a way that feels like being slipped into a bad dream.

This month’s skin is awe inspiring: Vintage 1920s Prohibition, a city as it was, but added neon and circuitry. A perfect postcard of cyber tinged opulence. Jazz swirls from every doorway. Kael will love that whiskey flows through every underground club filled with U21s looking for trouble.

I bloom into the simulation underneath a sign flickering dimly: The Green Gunner. GameNet has draped me in something I might’ve chosen if I were from the era: a gown of silver fringe that shimmers with every breath, iridescent like prisms catching light. My hair is wavy and sleek against my jaw, but on the ends, faint threads of magenta still shimmer, a nod to the magic beneath my skin.

Ember is the first to take shape beside me, her flaming red hair curled into 1920s waves, pinned beneath a jeweled headband. She’s wearing a black satin flapper dress that glitters with pixel sequins. Her hemline is scandalously high for the time and perfectly suits her small frame. Her bright eyes are ringed with kohl, dangerous and sultry, a femme fatale stepping out of a dystopian noir reel.

Kael emerges next, and I’m forced to catch my breath. Tall and dark against the haze, his pinstripe suit hugs his frame, black with subtle silver threads that pulse faintly like circuits. His tie is blood red, knotted with precision, and a trench coat flares around his legs as though the shadows are hugging them. He doesn’t look like he belongs in the 1920s, he looks like the decade was created for him.

Stars help me.

Ash, naturally, leans into the aesthetic like it’s written for him. Fedora tipped low, suspenders loose over a white shirt rolled at the sleeves, and a cigarette dangling from his lips. The tip glows neon blue instead of red. His guitar has shifted into a tommy gun slung over his back, and a coin spins between his fingers. “Told you.” He flicks the brim of the fedora. “Damn good.”

His jaw drops when he spots Ember. “Hellooooo, gorgeous...” He moves in, shortening the distance between them.

And then Jett. Of all of us, he fits the simulation best, like it’s been waiting for his arrival. A three-piece suit of obsidian wool, vest buttoned tight, his long hair pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. A pocket watch glows faintly neon in his hand, chain draped across his chest.