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"I'll design the protocol myself," he continues, turning back to Trent. "And Sentinel Vanguard, while your concern for your partner is commendable, in the future, please consult medical staff before interrupting established procedures."

"Of course, sir," Trent responds, his tone perfectly respectful while his posture remains unyielding.

Niren gives me one last assessing look before exiting, the technician following close behind with my blood samples.

The moment the doors close, I turn to Trent. "What wasthat about? And why didn't you tell me there were issues with my previous treatments?"

"Because there weren’t, at least none that registered on standard monitoring." He moves to the console, fingers flying over the controls. "The abnormalities only show up on deeper neural scans, which aren't part of routine enhancement observation."

"Then how did you know to look for them?"

Trent's hands pause over the console. "Because I've been monitoring your biometric data since our first neural sync three years ago."

"That's..." I search for the right word. Invasive? Concerning? A violation of privacy that should make me angry but somehow doesn't? "...thorough of you."

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "It's called being a good partner, Thorne."

There's that word again: partner. Such a simple term for something that feels increasingly complex. On the surface, it means we work together, train together, fight together. But the way Trent says it, the way he just positioned himself between me and potential threat, suggests something deeper than professional collaboration.

Or maybe that's just wishful thinking on my part.

Yeah. It’s wishful thinking.

"The data's gone," Trent says suddenly, his expression hardening as he stares at the console screen.

"What data?"

"Your neural scans from today. They've been purged from the local system." His fingers move rapidly over the controls. "The backups too."

A chill runs through me that has nothing to do with the enhancement chemicals still in my system. "Could it be standard procedure?"

"No." He straightens, eyes meeting mine with an intensitythat makes my stomach flip. "Someone doesn't want there to be a record of what happened to you today."

"Why would anyone care about my enhancement reaction?"

Instead of answering, Trent moves to the cabinet along the far wall, retrieving a standard medical kit. With efficient movements, he extracts a small collection vial and a tissue sampler.

"I need a sample," he says, returning to my side.

"Didn't the technician already take blood?"

"Yes, and it's already disappeared into Unity Medical's classified testing division." He holds up the tissue sampler. "This is for us. A backup."

The implications settle over me like a cold shadow. Trent Vanguard, Unity's most decorated Sentinel, is suggesting we keep secrets from the very system we've sworn to protect. It's not just irregular, it's dangerous.

"Trent," I say quietly, fear crawling up my spine, "what exactly are you worried about?"

His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the perfect Sentinel facade slips. What I see beneath it steals my breath, concern, determination, and something deeper that makes my heart beat faster.

"I don't know yet," he admits. "But Niren's response was too measured, too prepared. Like he expected something like this to happen eventually."

"Like what? An enhancement reaction?"

"No." His voice drops lower. "Like you."

Me?

Before I can process what that means, he continues, "This will sting a bit." The tissue sampler touches my arm where the enhancement chemicals entered, extracting a small cylinder of skin and muscle.