Page 73 of The Monster's Daughter

Kage stumbles forward, agony in his face. “We’ll save you,” he says. “I promise, bug. Daddy’s here. We’re gonna take you home.”

Natalie stares through us. Through the world.

Two voices now.

Hers.

And Nulegion’s.

I lower my gun.

Because I know.

Deep down.

We’re already too late.

CHAPTER 40

KAGE

She’s in there, suspended in that containment sphere like some relic, something divine and defiled all at once. Her tiny form floats, limp but eerily poised, caught in a false weightlessness that shouldn’t belong to a child. But it’s the voice that guts me—Natalie’s voice, threaded through with that alien lilt, that mechanical echo. It bounces off the walls in perfect harmony, too perfect, too clean. My fists clench as she says again,"I'm scared, Mommy,"and then—chilling, emotionless—"The vessel is ready."

It’s both of her. My daughter. And the parasite coiled inside her like a second soul.

I take one step forward, deliberate and slow, and the air feels like it’s vibrating around me, thick with static tension. I speak through my teeth. “Get her out of there.”

The Cyberoids don’t so much as flinch. Their figures remain locked in reverence, unmoved by our presence. The one that leads them—taller than the rest, with a long body that looks like glass melted over bone—glides forward. Wires wrap around its limbs like ceremonial robes, its face blank and mirror-like, reflecting distorted versions of me back at myself. It speakswithout moving its mouth, voice blossoming into the air like it's been waiting centuries to be heard.

“You do not understand, Grolgath,” it says with serene finality. “She is transcending. She will unite us.”

My voice comes out as a snarl. “She’s achild, not your fucking messiah.”

Still they stand, still as statues carved in chrome.

Then I charge.

The first blow takes a head clean off. No blood—just sparks and oily smoke. The body twitches and collapses, its circuits screeching as they shut down. Another swings a staff at me, and I duck under it, sweep its legs, and drive my claws through its midsection. Its voicebox hisses static as it dies.

Bella’s somewhere behind me, shouting into her wrist comm, fingers dancing across the alien console with frantic precision. “This encryption’s wrong!” she yells. “It’s not synthetic—it’salive!The code... it’slearningwhile I’m fighting it!”

“I don’t care how smart it is, keep going!” I bark as I cleave another cultist in two.

A wave of them pour in from the rear entrance, chanting in layered voices, modulated in dissonant harmony. My hearing fractures under the weight of it. One leaps at me—limbs whirring like helicopter blades—and I shoulder check it into the wall so hard the metal cracks. Another tries to grab my arm. I twist and snap its wrist backwards, punch it through the chest, and throw its body at the leader.

He doesn’t even blink. “Her transformation is beautiful. You resist perfection.”

I shoot him in the neck. Twice.

He folds in silence.

And still, Natalie floats.

Her little fingers twitch. Her eyes flicker. She’s still in there. But so isit.

The barrier around the sphere pulses when I touch it—hot, high-frequency, like it’s judging me. My claws scrape off, leaving no mark. I hear Bella curse behind me, slam her fist against the panel.

“It’s fused! The interface is locked to her brainstem—I can’t pull her without triggering a cascade failure!”