Page 45

Honestly, it looked like every sixteen-year-old boy’s dream hangout.

And as I scanned the space, I realized most of the members probably were that age.

Some looked maybe a bit older, but barely.

Almost none were likely over twenty-one.

They were covered in the glowing tattoos common among gang members—but that’s all they were.

Tattoos. Paltry mimicry of the chrome that ran through Cy’s body like living circuitry.

Our host gestured to a couch that looked slightly less worn than the others.

The guest couch. Cy plopped down like he owned the place and pulled me onto his lap.

His fingers started tapping on my thigh, which might’ve just looked like him keeping time with the music—but a message popped up on my Vysor.

Cy: Scan?

DITA responded: “Signal detected. Scan initiated. Estimated remaining time: seven minutes, thirty-three seconds.”

I gave him a subtle nod. Cy grinned, relaxing back into the couch, but his hand didn’t leave my thigh.

Instead, he started slowly tracing his fingers up and down the sensitive skin of the inner side.

I shot him a glare, but he ignored it. My pulse spiked, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and my stomach clenched as those fingers drifted higher.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward. This pendejo .

I was about to risk telling him off when a few young men approached. Cy stood, unceremoniously dumping me off his lap, and clasped hands with one, pulling him into a short, masculine embrace.

“Akira, you fucker, you’re still alive?”

“They haven’t killed me yet,” Akira replied with a grin. His Vysor had the same holographic mask as the others, but without the fangs the front guards wore, so I could see his actual expression. That seemed to be the norm for most inside the Den. “They even promoted me to lieutenant.”

I was surprised to see a genuine smile spread across Cy’s face. “No shit! Should’ve known. You’re like a roach—not even the end of the world could take you down.”

Something passed between them then, and Cy grabbed Akira by the shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

Akira’s little teen cronies were all staring at Cy like he was glowing.

I wondered what it was they saw. Was it someone who’d gotten out and moved up in the world?

Or was it someone legendary—a powerful electroteknik who had once ruled these streets?

I watched as he chatted genially with them, and for a moment, Cy was almost human.

“Five minutes remaining.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin but took a deep breath. Not much longer now.

An older man approached, and Cy’s face hardened. He tapped Akira’s shoulder one last time, and the young man took off without another word, his posse trailing behind.

Cy faced the man. “Hinokawa-san” He gave a bow—so small it was almost mocking—before collapsing back onto the couch beside me.

“I hear you have some business for me, kyodai. Although I do not know why you needed to come here to discuss it.”

“Product was hot. Didn’t want to waste time with your subordinates. I need it moved fast.”

The older man’s face twisted into something that might’ve been a smile, but his age and clear contempt distorted it.

“Well, if it’s urgent, I’m sure we could move it for you—for a fee, of course. Forty percent.”

Cy made a harsh sound, and the two started negotiating in Japanese so rapid my translator could barely keep up. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t listening. This was all just to buy time.

“Three minutes remaining,” DITA chimed.

I took a deep breath. We were almost there.

Then, a negative chime made my stomach drop.

“Warning: Download interrupted.”

I started tapping on my thigh as discreetly as I could. Cy’s eyes snapped there as I typed:

Me: What issue?

No answer. Instead, I got:

“Caution: countermeasure detected. Immediate evacuation of device advised.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I pulled up the search code on my Vysor—everything was red. Every single query was being flagged and bounced back. I watched what little data we had downloaded begin to erase in real time.

I tapped faster, ignoring the surrounding stares. I managed to halt the deletion, but more and more countermeasure warnings popped up.

The most common defense against a device like this was to overload it until it burned out. I could already feel it heating inside me. The time for subtly was over.

“Is there a little girls’ room around here?” I asked the nearest guard, batting my lashes.

Cy’s hand on my hip tightened—practically screaming at me to not get separated—but I didn’t have time to explain.

The guard nodded, but before I could move, a voice behind me spoke in a low, calm tone.

“No, I think you will stay right here and explain exactly how it is you’ve breached our security.”

I turned back. The older man’s Vysor was lit up with alerts—he knew what we were doing.

The device was so hot now I could feel it burning my flesh, and all thoughts of what was going to happen next vanished. Instead, I reached up my skirt, grabbed the makeshift tab I’d attached, and flung the device out of me and onto the floor.

The entire room went silent as the small silver rod rolled across the floor until it hit the toe of Hinokawa’s dress shoe, its surface glistening. Then, with a soft pop, smoke burst from the chrome shell, breaking the silence.

“Seize them.”

Cy shoved himself between me and the guard lunging in my direction. I stumbled back as he moved like the demon he was. He didn’t need his Flux or a weapon.

He was the weapon.

His body moved like something out of one of those ridiculous martial arts movies I’d watched as a kid that I always thought looked so exaggerated.

But there was nothing exaggerated here. He smashed his palm into the oncoming man’s nose with a sickening crunch.

Blood sprayed, and the man collapsed in a heap.

Another attacker came from the side, a glint of steel flashing in the dim light.

Cy ducked the knife with ease, stepping inside the man’s reach.

He drove an elbow into his ribs, the crack reverberating like a gunshot in the narrow space.

Then a quick, brutal sweep of Cy’s leg sent the guard sprawling, the knife clattering harmlessly away.

I backed into a corner, trying to keep out of the fray. Cy was a whirlwind of fists and fury, dropping anyone who got close, but more were pouring in. Shouts mixed with the dull thud of bodies hitting the ground.

“Cy!” I called out, but he didn’t glance back. His focus was razor-sharp, every movement precise.

But it wasn’t enough.

Hands latched onto my upper arm, yanking me off balance. I twisted, instinctively reaching for my Flux. Pain flared at the base of my skull—white-hot and blinding—as the embedded device blocked it. My Flux fizzled and died before it could even manifest, leaving me defenseless.

I wasn’t like Cy. I wasn’t a fighter. Without my Flux, I was weak. Useless.

A bitter laugh echoed in my ears as the grip tightened on my arm and jerked me backward.

“Got the girl!” the man holding me shouted.

Cy’s head whipped around at the sound. His eyes zeroed in on me—dark and wild—and for a moment, the sheer ferocity in his gaze made even the thug holding me falter.

“Let her go.” Cy snarled, his voice a low growl that sent chills down my spine.

He surged forward, slamming into the nearest guard with a force that sent them both crashing into the wall. Another man swung a baton at him, but Cy caught it mid-swing, ripping it from the attacker’s grip and using it to strike him down with brutal efficiency.

But for every one Cy took down, two more seemed to take their place.

The man holding me dragged me backward, using me as a shield. “Back off, or she gets it!”

Cy hesitated, his fists clenched at his sides, his chest heaving. “You don’t wanna do that,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“Don’t I?” The man sneered, pulling a knife from his belt.

“Cy, don’t—” I tried to warn him, but he was already moving.

He threw the baton like a spear, and I felt my hair shift as it barely missed me and struck my captor square in the nose. The man yelped, releasing me as he stumbled back, clutching his bleeding face.

I hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of me. Cy was on him in an instant, slamming him onto the floor with a vicious snarl.

But the delay cost him. The man drove his knife toward Cy’s face.

I cried out as Cy threw his hand between them, and I watched the blade sink straight through his palm to the hilt.

He didn’t even slow down. He twisted his wrist—and the blade with it—ripping it from the man’s grasp as blood dripped down onto his face.

Then he pulled back his opposite hand and struck the man so hard his teeth cracked.

There were too many of them. Another guard blindsided him, landing a solid blow to his ribs. A second tackled him from behind. He was fast, but not fast enough. A blow to his shoulder staggered him, and he faltered, his face finally contorting in pain.

“Run, Eon!” he shouted, even as another man swung at him, the impact driving him to his knees.

I scrambled to my feet, my body screaming in protest, but before I could take a step, a pair of arms locked around me from behind. I struggled, kicking and clawing, but it was no use.

Pain exploded through my skull as someone struck the side of my head. My vision blurred, the room spinning wildly.

“Eon!” Cy’s voice reached me, raw with desperation—but it felt distant, like it was coming from underwater.

I tried to call out to him, but the words wouldn’t come. My knees buckled, and I felt myself falling, the world tilting as darkness closed in.

The last thing I saw was Cy—still fighting, bloodied but unrelenting—before everything went black.