Page 20 of A Mate For Matrix (Cyborg Protection Unit #1)

Now, the vehicle wheezed its way down a cracked stretch of pavement, and Jana was chatting cheerfully beside him—completely unfazed by the dire state of their environment.

“The last animal to ride in this van was a pot-bellied pig named Sir Trots-a-Little. Get it? He was pot-bellied, so—" She paused and looked at him before looking back at the road. “Anyway, someone dumped him on the clinic’s doorstep. We took him to the animal sanctuary down the road. He’s living his best life now—has a mud puddle, a girlfriend, and everything.”

Matrix blinked, trying to process ‘pot-bellied’, ‘sanctuary’, and ‘girlfriend’ in the same sentence.

“Before that,” she continued, “we had a calf in here. Born premature. Mom wouldn’t accept him, so Doc and I bottle-fed him until we could find him a foster cow. He pooped everywhere, by the way. Hence the stains.”

Matrix’s stomach lurched. That explained the smell.

And the fossilized brown patch.

Still, he held his tongue, focusing instead on her voice. He wasn’t sure why, but listening to her talk—about animals, the town, and the weird rituals of this world—soothed something in him.

He glanced over, watching her face glow as she spoke. Her hands moved when she told stories, her laugh burst out of her without hesitation, and her eyes sparkled like she’d bottled starlight and forgotten to tell anyone.

They passed a dozen squat, odd-shaped buildings. Some were weathered, leaning like tired soldiers. Others gleamed with false brightness, all glass and metal and flashing signs that made his HUD sputter with confusion.

Matrix sat forward in his seat, fascinated. Primitive transports buzzed past on four wheels, honking or belching exhaust. A group of humans emerged from a narrow structure labeled ‘The Donut Hole’ carrying steaming cups and bags that made his stomach growl.

Jana turned the wheel, and the van rumbled into a small lot next to a rectangular building with the words Farmers & Citizens Bank stenciled in fading gold across the glass door.

She shifted into park and turned to him. “Okay, it might take a few minutes. I’ve got to close out my account. Stay here, alright? It’s not hot out, so you won’t roast.”

Matrix nodded, eyes scanning the street, rooftops, and pedestrians. “I will remain close.”

“I’ll be right back.” She reached for the door, hesitated, then smiled. “And don’t lick the windows.”

“I wasn’t going to—” But the door shut with a soft thunk, and she was already walking away, laughing.

Matrix exhaled through his nose.

She was gone. Still in sight—his gaze locked on her through the tinted glass—but no longer within reach. Unprotected.

Unacceptable.

He clenched his hands on his thighs. His internal sensors buzzed with an edge of warning: heart rate up, tension spiking.

His HUD kicked into overdrive, overlaying distance readouts and threat assessments.

Every person within visual range was tagged and color-coded based on proximity and observable weaponry—which, in this case, appeared to be handbags, coffee, and a yippy dog wearing a tutu.

Still, he didn’t like it.

A small, sharp growl escaped before he could stop it.

This wasn’t like earlier, when it had just been them—just him, her, the kittens, K-Nine.

He had been fine then. Confused, maybe. Protective, yes.

But not this. Not this instinctive, bone-deep need to track every heartbeat near her, to memorize the smell of everyone who walked within five meters, to leap out and claim her every time a stranger looked at her.

His father had warned him. When you find her, he’d said once , you won’t need anyone to tell you. Your instincts will scream it.

Matrix had dismissed it as nonsense. He was a warrior. A protector. A scientist. His instincts didn’t scream.

Now?

He was twitching.

Especially when the tall man in the blue jacket nodded at Jana as she held the bank door for him.

Matrix’s fingers tightened on the edge of the seat. He leaned forward, his sunglasses slipping slightly as his eyes narrowed.

Don’t smile at her. Don’t touch her. Don’t even look at her.

He glimpsed himself in the cracked side mirror—wearing the dorky hat, trying to fit inside this absurd contraption, sulking like an angry house cat.

He sighed.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered aloud. “I am the commander of a strike unit. I have faced space pirates, genetically engineered assassins, and Crawler queens. I will not be undone by… emotions.”

The group that had exited the shop with the steaming cups and bags walked by the rear of the van. His stomach growled again.

But his eyes never left the bank door.

He breathed a sigh of relief when Jana reappeared nearly thirty minutes later with a satisfied smile and an envelope clutched in one hand. Matrix relaxed—slightly.

She walked over, opened the door, and slid into the driver’s seat, glancing over. “You okay?”

“I am evaluating your town. I want to try the food products from that place,” he said, nodding towards the enormous sign next door.

She peered around him to see what he was talking about. “You want a donut?”

Matrix adjusted his hat. “Yes. I would like to try a do-nut.”

Jana laughed and fastened her seatbelt. “Okay, one drive-thru donut pickup coming up. Then we’ll hit the grocery store.”

Matrix hoped the smell of the do-nuts would help overcome the odors in the van. He also hoped they tasted as good as the smell coming from the building suggested.

He relaxed back as far as he could, studying Jana as she placed their order for three dozen assorted do-nuts and two large coffees.

The nagging ache had calmed the moment she returned.

As long as she stayed by his side, things were good.

It was when he couldn’t see her that he’d have to figure out what to do.

Things will get better once we’re on the ship and heading back to Zion.

For now, he was going to eat all the do-nuts and watch her.