Page 4

Meo Eterno

“You can still say no,” Mr. Skul all but demanded from her bedroom doorway as she packed her bags. “Them and their damn emergency fuck-ups,” he muttered. “You should have a chance to say goodbye properly, not leave in the middle of the night like a…plot twist in a low-budget sci-fi movie.”

She sat heavily on the bed, fighting the crush of his anger and the shock that he’d just cussed!

“What’s wrong, are you ill?”

“I am!” she cried covering her face, then dropping her hands. “I can hardly bear this.”

“Then you won’t, I’ll let them know—”

“No, Mr. Skul, you ,” she cried flying off the bed to pace and wring her hands. “I can’t bear your fear and anger in all of this. You’re my mentor, you’ve prepared me for great things, and am I wrong to assume that this is a great thing?” She stopped to look at him. “It feels like a very great thing to me. I’ve weighed it with everything that I am and all that I intend to be,” she pled, watching the sharpness in his gaze soften before it lowered. She stared at him, waiting for what she was dying for. His approval. “I don’t want to leave with you disappointed in me but... I will if I have to. Because I... I saw what’s inside that poor man. Destined to be put out of his own body because the woman he loved chose to be with the other side of him. I saw his fear, Mr. Skul,” she whispered. “I can surely imagine what it is like to not have a home or a family, but I cannot imagine not having the basic security of your own body .” She wiped her tears, her heart breaking all over again. “I may not be what he needs or wants but he needs somebody . And I want to be that somebody. Please,” she barely squeaked, covering her face with both hands.

His strong arms wrapped her in an embrace that yanked more sobs from her chest. “I’m sorry, Poppy,” he whispered, stroking her head. “If this is what you want to do, I will support you a million percent. I am very proud of you. You’ve surpassed every expectation I ever had, and I couldn’t have asked for a better student—or a better woman to step into this role. But…” His voice wavered as he put her before him, his gaze turning sharp, raw. “For the first time in my life, I am… terrified. Not for me. For you.” He gripped her shoulders lightly, his composure crumbling more. “Terrified that I am sending someone I care for like my own blood, into a world where my reach can’t shield them. Do you understand that?”

She nodded, no longer fighting her sobs. “Thank you, Mr. Skul.”

“From this moment on, I will no longer be Mr. Skul to you,” he soothed, helping wipe her tears. “I am just Skul. Your brother.”

****

Handy paced in the containment room, hurrying to the window when Quantum and Harlow appeared. “I want to know every step of this procedure, every risk, and do not hide it, I will know.”

Quantum approached the glass with Harlow. “Well, your initial meeting that we extracted was used to create the blueprint for the imprint,” Quantum began. “Your neural framework was programmed based on those responses, specifically tuned to recognize her as the stabilizing anchor for the dark energy matrix. When you see her again in your new body, that recognition reactivates the connection. It’ll be like rebooting a system with the same access key—it immediately aligns your system to her presence.”

Harlow eagerly added, “But it’s her gift of persuasive empathy that ensures the process locks into place.”

“Correct,” Quantum said. “Her gift will interact with the dark matrix and shape its energy field, moderating how it integrates with your neural framework. As her emotional signature interacts with your system, her gift fine-tunes the energy spikes, rerouting volatile surges into manageable flows.”

Harlow jumped in quietly. “Her presence sets the emotional foundation, and her gift ensures the matrix integrates fully, shaping the energy into patterns your system can sustain and control.”

Handy glared at him. “He just said that.” He eyed Quantum. “Still waiting for the risks.”

“Well,” Quantum said, “The imprint is not a passive process. As the matrix synchronizes with your system, there’s a chance it could reject the calibration. If that happens, the energy spikes could destabilize your neural network entirely.”

“But that’s where the pod comes in,” Harlow said. “It’s designed to monitor every variable—neural activity, energy output, and how the matrix responds to her presence and gift. If there’s any sign of rejection or instability, the fail-safes will kick in.”

“Define ‘fail-safes’,” Handy ordered, pacing now.

“The pod is equipped with a quantum containment field generator,” Quantum said. “If the matrix begins to destabilize, it locks down the energy field, neutralizing the output entirely. It also shuts down your motor functions, preventing the dark matrix from overriding your control.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Handy pressed.

Harlow hesitated but answered, “There’s a secondary generator designed to contain even the worst-case energy spikes. It can isolate the matrix and hold it in stasis, giving us time to recalibrate or shut it down entirely.”

Quantum said, “That’s why her role is so crucial. The process isn’t just about her presence or gift; it’s about ensuring that the matrix stabilizes during the imprint. If she succeeds, the risks are minimal. If the imprint fails...” He paused, holding Handy’s gaze. “The consequences are unpredictable. But to be sure, the system is designed to prioritize containment—of both you and the matrix.”

Handy lowered his head, shaking it.

You can handle it , Kaphas assured, his confidence finding zero purchase.

“Where is she?” Handy asked.

“She’s here,” Harlow said.

“Can I see her without it fucking up anything?” He raised his gaze when they began discussing it. “Our first meeting wasn’t exactly the best blueprint as I’m sure you know.”

The men exchanged glances before eying him with mild confusion. Quantum said, “The readouts from your initial meeting were exceptionally strong. The neural and biometric data we collected showed perfect alignment with the imprint protocols.”

Harlow added, “It wasn’t just suitable—it was optimal. The signatures we captured reflected a synchronization level we’d expect to see in a deeply bonded pair. You hit that one out of the park.”

He went back to glaring. “Well, I’m not convinced.” He regarded Quantum now. “Or impressed.”

“Seeing her before the procedure can only strengthen the imprint,” Quantum said. “If it weren’t for the other risks with this backlash, I’d have you spend even more time with her.”

“I just want five minutes,” Handy said, feeling Kaphas’ panic at the idea of prolonging it. “Then we can begin.”

“I’ll go get her,” Harlow said.

Assuming you want privacy , Kaphas said as Handy went back to pacing.

I do . Handy opened the mental door that existed between their consciences.

See you in five , Kaphas murmured before shutting it and allowing Handy to finally access the memory of his Poppy encounter. He’d hoarded it and hid it like an addict, not about to share. He stood in it now, saturating every part of himself in every detail of her, cementing her into his fragile existence. He closed his eyes as the sound of her voice moved through him, carried by the erratic rhythm of her pulse in response to him. He took a slow, deep breath, recalling her scent, letting the soft vanilla and jasmine wrap him as he sought to capture the flicker of other scents dancing around those. Sage… small traces of lavender. The faint memory of delicate musk demanded he know more even if he had to stain Kaphas’ body with it to get it. He needed as much as he could get. Because if everything failed, all he had to protect her against those demons was himself.

He moved to the glass when the sound of light footsteps echoed in his ears and body. He captured the tiny sound. She’d been afraid and brave in the same breath. All while slaying him with a calm cleverness beyond her delicate years.

He collected all her words as her steps got closer. I might if you weren’t tasting with another man’s body... Seems we’re the perfect match… I won’t judge you by your age if you don’t judge me by mine.

His own words came next.

You will never be that kind of match .

Her pain from his words laced the euphoric high. She’d misunderstood them.

He looked up when the door leading to his containment room opened. He watched his lamb approach him with that same courage, sinking into the warm strength of her sage green eyes now locked on him.

She stopped just before the glass, and he opened himself at seeing her gift seeking to satisfy whatever had her pretty face tense with fear.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

Everything crumbled inside him at the power in those three words and that she meant them with every ounce of her being. His tongue tied up with hunger as she searched earnestly for the answer to her question.

“You should be afraid,” he whispered, not trusting his voice.

She gave a small nod. “I am.”

“Do you know what’s coming?”

“I was briefed,” she said, her simplicity cutting through him. “What are you afraid of?” she asked, her brows furrowed with that perceptive knowing that created a bone deep longing in him.

“Of hurting you,” he confessed, his fear of that growing as the seconds ticked by. “You don’t even know me. I don’t even know me. You understand who and what I am? Did they tell you about my fucked-up existence and how I came to be?”

She nodded and his chest tightened when her eyes filled with tears. “I know. I can see you.”

Those words gutted him as he locked his gaze on hers. “What do you see, Poppy?”

She held him tight with the power in those eyes, crippling him with dread. “I see a man who is afraid.”

His breath left him. “You see a man?” he barely whispered, getting her slow nods. “I fear…” he began, closing his eyes as he palmed the glass.

“Tell me,” she urged softly.

He threw himself into her warm powers, wrapping himself in them. “I fear…” A sudden weight crushed his chest, forcing him to struggle for air. “I fear when they remove me from this body that… I’ll get lost in that place again.”

She searched his eyes, tears falling down her face. “What place?” she whispered, her gentleness crucifying him.

“Where I went when my brothers left. A cold…crushing darkness.”

She quickly shook her head, placing her hand on the glass over his. “You won’t get lost,” she assured urgently. “I won’t let you.”

He gasped at her conviction. “How?”

“Let me show you,” she whispered with a little nod. “May I?”

He stared, clinging to the life billowing in her gaze. “Yes.”

She glanced at the door on her left. “I need to come inside.”

His pulse beat with a brutal force as he nodded, watching her hurry to the door. He faced her as she approached him with focused, determined steps, stopping close enough that she had to look up at him.

“Close your eyes,” she commanded softly.

The moment he did, her small hands caressed his face, then gently tugged. He gave himself over, eager to see this trick she would play on the universe, just for him. His breath caught in his lungs when her lips pressed at his ear. “You will be a new man,” she whispered. “And I am giving you a new name. Would you like that?”

His heart hammered in his chest with a biting ache. “Yes,” he whispered back, his body craving her.

“Your new name is Meo Eterno. It means… You are mine. Forever.” She pulled back and pressed her lips right on his, breaking him wide open. His arms went around her as he gave himself to the gentle sweetness of her kiss, wrapping her tightly and crushing her against his body. She pulled back and pressed their cheeks together, her soft gasps filling his heart and ears. “That kiss was not a gift, but a loan,” she informed softly. “A piece of me that I fully intend to request back when this is done.” She pulled back and he reluctantly loosened his hold, staring down into her face and wiping her tears. “I am Italian, and we are very stingy people that never forget debts,” she warned with a little nod. “There is no darkness that I’m afraid of, and I will come and find you myself if I have to.”

He grabbed her face and kissed her, not caring what body he did it in. The softness of her mouth and moan unraveled every fear gnawing in his soul. “Poppy,” he finally groaned in her mouth, heaving with hunger as he pulled up, stroking her face. “When I said you would never be that kind of match to me, it’s because I will never share you. I would rather have no part of you if I can’t have every part of you.”

She gave him a happy laugh, nodding and swiping at his lip with her thumb. He caught her finger with his teeth, getting her excited laughter. “I’m trying to wipe the lipstick off,” she whispered, her joy shaking the foundations in him. “I don’t want to get poor Kaphas in trouble.”

He couldn’t stop the possessive growl in his chest at the idea of sharing what was all his and nobody else’s. “He deserves a little trouble, I think.”

She gave him a big laugh before putting her head on his chest and wrapping her tiny arms around him tightly. “A little,” she agreed as he returned to crushing her to his body, loathing that these miracles weren’t being imprinted on his new one.

For the first time in his memory, the eternal weight of his existence felt lighter. The dark edges of what he was—what the matrix had made him—wasn’t all he could feel.

Not even borrowed blood and bones could take the protective power raging inside him. Not instinct. Something primal and unrelenting. It wasn’t enough to keep her safe, that was too small, too fragile.

“Just remember you have to bring me back what’s mine.”

His lips twitched faintly, though his chest still ached with an unfamiliar heaviness. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

Her laugh was quiet but resolute. “You had better keep this one,” she threatened softly.

Handy closed his eyes, petting her head as her courage dulled the edges of his fear. He hugged her tighter, committing her words, her touch, her warmth to memory, forging a lifeline in his soul with it.

She had given him a piece of herself that he didn’t deserve. And he would fight all of hell to make sure he returned it to her whole. With interest.

****

Sinrik put the phone back to his ear, staring at her as she lay back on the bed. “What do you mean, you think you’re hungry?” he demanded. “I’m confused how you can be this pregnant and not know something that simple.”

“I need… my husband,” she gasped, her legs moving restlessly. “He needs him.”

“He who?” Sinrik turned with his phone. “I need a medical transport on level four immediately.”

“The baby,” she whispered, confusing him.

“I’m sending you in for lab work,” he ordered, wrangling his anger. “Why would you request to come here and risk your life, your baby’s life? What kind of love does that? Surely not a mother’s love or even a wife’s love. Your husband isn’t much of a husband if he thinks this is love either.”

“I understand your anger. And… my husband would agree. You both share the same ignorance.”

He snapped a glare at her. “Do not patronize me. You don’t know me, nor do you understand me and I can one thousand percent assure you that I am nothing like your husband. Your love equations are at the very least skewed to hell and at the very most entirely false.”

“They aren’t,” she assured back, the words delicate wisps of silk.

“How are you doing that?” he said, finally realizing it. “Your voice and your words, they have an energy. Are you an upgrade?”

She lolled her head, fixing her confused gray eyes on him and he realized it wasn’t just her words, it was every bit of her, she was saturated with whatever was wrong with her. “Upgrade?”

“Have you received any artificial intelligence upgrades?” he reiterated, realizing his patience was razor thin while a part of him required he tread carefully.

“I…” Her head shook with a narrowed gaze. “No.”

He realized she might not know that answer if she’d belonged to any of the alphabet agencies before he’d destroyed them.

The medical team arrived, and two soldiers entered. Sinrik stood between them and her, the odd need to shield her growing by the second. “I’ll carry her to the transport,” he informed, turning and carefully working his hands under his instantly protesting prisoner.

“What are you… I don’t need carrying, I can walk,” she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck when he ignored her. “This is silly and so very unnecessary,” she went on even as his own protests raged in his muscles.

At the med-bed, setting her on it became an all-out war. He could easily carry her to the lab on the floor above, because despite her protests, the tremble in her body demanded him and no other, unless they had a death wish.

She was surely infected with something and whatever it was affected him.

He won the war and lowered her to the bed, but he lost the next one that required he accompany the two soldiers to the elevator, his hand refusing to leave the transport.

He pulled his phone out, calling Med Lab One. “I need Morgue’s results sent to my phone immediately. I also want the digital footage report from his last mission and all relevant information attached.”

He hung up as she turned on her side. The light moan that escaped her registered as a threat. Not to him, to her. And the fact that he wanted to crush it meant whatever she possessed or whatever possessed her was the reason for it.