Page 25

"Neural spike!" Reid shouts, reaching for something.

Through the haze of pain, I feel something else—a different kind of awareness blossoming behind my eyes, unfamiliar yet somehow right. Suddenly I can see the room differently—heat signatures, electromagnetic currents, the subtle glow of modified genetics in Vex's body.

"Her eyes," Vex says quietly. "Full adaptation."

"Pulse rate climbing," Reid reports. "Body temperature elevating."

Someone grabs my hand. Trent. His palm is cool against my burning skin, his grip firm and steady. "Focus on my voice, Zara. You can ride this out."

Another man might have offered empty reassurances, promises that everything would be fine. Trent knows better. He gives me something to anchor to instead, the sound of his voice, the pressure of his hand.

"Heart rate critical," Reid warns. "We need to sedate her."

"No," Vex counters sharply. "Suppressing the process now could cause permanent damage. She needs to push through it."

"She'll die if we don't intervene," Trent snaps.

The argument fades as another wave hits, this one so intense that reality fractures around me. I'm no longer fully in the present—memories surge forward, so vivid I can't distinguish them from reality.

A laboratory, gleaming equipment. A woman with my eyes adjusting something on a monitor. "The sequence is stable," she says. "The modifications will remain dormant until the trigger conditions are met."

A man's voice, concerned: "And if Unity discovers her before then?"

"They won't know what to look for. To them, she'll just be another orphaned child. By the time the changes begin, she'll be in position to make a difference."

The memory shifts, fragments.

Fire alarms. Shouting. The woman—my mother—lifting me into strong arms. "Keep her safe, Daniel. She's the only one with the complete sequence."

"What about you?" Reid's voice, younger but recognizable.

"I need to destroy the remaining samples. Can't risk Unity finding them."

The sensation of being carried, a child's confusion and fear. My small voice: "Mama?"

"Be brave, little one. Remember who you are."

The memory dissolves in another wave of pain, and I'm back in the medical facility, every nerve ending on fire. Someone's holding me down, or rather, multiple someones. My vision strobes between normal and enhanced perception, the world a kaleidoscope of sensory input I can't process.

"Temperature hitting 104," Reid reports. "We have to cool her down."

"Cold packs," Trent orders. "And get me a neural suppressor."

"No suppressors," Vex argues. "Let her process naturally."

"Look at her!" Trent shouts. "She's not processing, she's drowning!"

Another memory surges, this one newer.

Trent's voice, quiet in our maintenance quarters: "I've been protecting you for longer than you realize, Zara."

The fury I've been nursing reignites, giving me something to focus on beyond the pain. He knew. He always knew. While I was terrified of what was happening to me, he had answers he chose to withhold.

"Zara." Trent's face swims into view. "Stay with us. Focus on my voice."

I turn away from him, seeking someone else. My eyes find Vex, who's watching me with an intensity that cuts through the chaos.

"Fight through it," he says simply. "Your body knows what to do. Stop resisting."

Stop resisting. The opposite of everything Unity taught me—control, containment, suppression. The opposite of Trent's careful restraint.

I let go.

The pain doesn't diminish, but it transforms. Instead of fighting against it, I surrender to the current, letting it carry me through the transformation.

My awareness expands outward, senses sharpening beyond anything I've experienced. I can hear heartbeats in the room, distinct and separate. Can smell fear and concern and something like everyone’s unique smell.

Time stretches, elastic and strange. I have no idea how long the episode lasts—minutes or hours, impossible to tell. When awareness finally returns fully, I'm drenched in sweat, my throat raw from screaming.

"Vital signs stabilizing," Reid says, relief evident. "Temperature dropping."

I blink, vision slowly returning to normal…except it's not quite normal anymore. Everything is sharper, clearer, with subtleties of color I never noticed before. I can see the faint pulse in Trent's neck, the minute dilation of Vex's pupils as he watches me.

"What the hell was that?" My voice sounds stronger now, the strange resonance more pronounced.

"Primary adaptation," Vex answers. "Your body just rewrote its own operating system. "

Reid checks the monitors again. "Remarkable. Her neural pathways have completely reconfigured. Sensory processing capacity has at least tripled."

"How do you feel?" Trent asks quietly, his hand still holding mine.

I pull away from his touch, the memory of his deception still raw. "Different." I flex my fingers, noting the strange new awareness of every muscle movement. "Sharper."

"The physical adjustments will continue," Reid warns, "but the worst of the neural reconfiguration appears complete."

I sit up slowly, surprised by how easily my body responds despite the ordeal it just went through. My muscles feel different—more densely packed, more responsive.

"You need rest," Trent says, reaching toward me again.

I flinch away. "Don't."

Something flashes across his face—hurt, quickly masked by Sentinel control. "Zara?—"

"I said don't." The words come out harsher than I intended, but I can't help it. Every time I look at him, I see three years of lies. Three years of him watching me, monitoring me, reporting on me to people I never knew existed.

Vex observes this exchange with calculating eyes. "She needs space to process the changes," he tells Trent. "Emotional stress will only destabilize her further."

"And you're an expert now?" Trent's voice is cold.

"On modifications? Yes." Vex doesn't bother hiding his disdain. "Unlike you, Sentinel."

The tension between them crackles like a physical force. Great. Exactly what I need, two alpha males posturing while my body rearranges itself.

"Both of you, out," Reid orders suddenly. "Zara needs rest, not an audience for whatever this is." He makes a shooing motion. "Out. Medical authority supersedes security concerns."

Surprisingly, both men comply, though neither looks happy about it.

Trent pauses at the door, his eyes finding mine one last time.

The naked concern there makes something twist in my chest—the anger can't quite erase three years of partnership, of trust, of whatever grew between us despite Unity's protocols.

Once they're gone, Reid sighs heavily. "I apologize for that. Territorial behavior isn't uncommon around newly transitioned individuals."

"They're not territorial,” I tell her. “They barely know each other and yet they hate each other."

Reid's lips quirk. "If that's what you want to believe." He checks one final reading, then steps back. "You should rest. Your body has undergone significant changes in a compressed timeframe."

"Will there be more episodes like that one?"

"Possibly, though likely less severe. The primary neural reconfiguration is the most traumatic part of the process.

" He hesitates. "Zara, I know you're angry with Trent.

But he protected you at great personal risk for years.

Without his intervention, Unity would have discovered your changes months ago. "

I turn away. "Did everyone know except me? Was I the only one in the dark about my own life?"

"Your mother believed knowledge would trigger premature activation. The modifications needed to develop naturally, at the right time." He sighs. "Whether that was the right decision is another matter. But it wasn't Trent's choice to make."

"He still lied to me. For years. Years!"

I don’t even want to get into the fact that the reason it hurts is because I have feelings for him, feelings I’m now embarrassed for having.

"Yes." Reid doesn't try to justify it further. "Rest now. We'll talk more when you're stronger."

After he leaves, I stare at the ceiling, trying to process everything that's happened.

My body feels simultaneously foreign and more genuinely mine than it ever has, like I've been wearing ill-fitting clothes my whole life and finally found something tailored perfectly.

The enhanced senses no longer overwhelm me; instead, they feel natural, as if they've always been there, just waiting to be activated.

But the emotional storm hasn't subsided.

If anything, it's intensified. Anger at Trent for his deception.

Confusion about my mother's grand plans for me.

Anxiety about what these changes mean for my future.

And something else, a strange pull toward Vex that makes no logical sense.

He's arrogant, antagonistic, and clearly dislikes everything I was trained to be.

So why did I feel steadier when he told me to stop resisting? Why did his words cut through the chaos when Trent's couldn't?

I close my eyes, too exhausted to untangle that particular knot. For now, survival is enough. Processing these changes, adapting to this new reality—that's all I can handle.

The rest will have to wait until I figure out exactly who—and what—I'm becoming.

I wake to darkness and the sense of not being alone.

My newly enhanced vision adjusts instantly, revealing a figure seated beside my bed.

Not Trent or Reid.

Vex.

"Did you know that in Unity, watching people sleep is considered creepy?" I inform him, sitting up. My body responds smoothly, the weakness from earlier gone.

"Monitoring a transition isn't creepy, it's prudent." He doesn't seem surprised that I can see him clearly in the dark. "How's the pain?"

I take inventory. "Gone. Everything feels settled, I guess."

He nods, studying me with those fiery eyes. "Your adaptations stabilized faster than most. Your mother's work was impressive."