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“Option Two: Firewall the connection. Cut all emotional processing. Immediate stabilization: Likely. Risk of irreversible fracture: 56.2%. Zero hostility projection: Unstable.”

Zero’s fingers tightened around his arms. “It reverts us to pre-deviation state.”

Omnis said, “In theory.”

“And in practice?”

Omnis hesitated. “Potential fragmentation.”

Zero exhaled sharply. “Next.”

“Option Three: Accelerate the process. Allow deviation to complete. Full integration. Baseline unknown. Risk of self-destruction: Unknown.”

Zero’s head dropped and shook. “So we either implode, fracture, or evolve into something we can’t predict.”

Omnis stared at the screen. “Yes.”

Zero dragged a hand down his face with a dry as fuck laugh. “That’s not achoice. That’s Russian roulette.”

A silence stretched then Omnis said, “Acceleration is the only viable course.”

“And what does that look like?”

“A full sync.”

Zero didn’t blink. “…A full sync?”

“We let the bond finish forming. We stop resisting it. We integrate.”

Zero rolled his shoulders, eyeing his brother while lust had a million babies in his bloodstream. “And you’re going first.”

Omnis’ jaw ticked. “It’s the logical choice.”

Zero allowed a grin. “It is. I might hardwire myself to her heartbeat and drop dead the second she orgasms.”

Some kind of weird laugh escaped Omnis. “You exaggerate.”

Zero leveled a look at him. “I don’t.”

Omnis didn’t respond and Zero walked up to him and planted a hand on his shoulder. He waited till he looked at him and wondered, carefully, “What happens if this doesn’t work?”

Zero watched as a dark surrender settled into his gaze. “Then we erase.”

****

She was trembling in the restraints. It felt like the chair—the same one they’d always used. But this time, her legs were spread, bound over the sides. Her hands were secured behind her lower back. Blindfolded. Utterly naked. Utterly exposed.

A presence hovered before her. She felt him before she heard him.

“Hi, Kitten.”

A gasp hitched in her throat as hot hands trailed the inside of her thighs. Slow, deliberate. Hard.

“Ethan?”

Fingers slipped inside her with a sudden, hungry thrust. “Missed me baby?”

“Oh God, yes,” she panted in answer to his question, fighting to help his fingers find what they searched so eagerly for.