The deep medical lab is a sanctuary of cold, blue light and the hum of quantum processors. It smells of antiseptic, ozone, and the faint, bitter tang of strong coffee.
I stand in the center of the room, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. My left shoulder aches from the lingering nerve damage of the trench dive, but the physical pain is entirely eclipsed by the cold, hard knot of terror in my stomach.
Kade stands beside me. He is leaning heavily on his carbon-fiber cane, his left sleeve pinned neatly to his chest. Through the mate bond, I feel his profound, suffocating anxiety. It is a tight, vibrating wire in the back of my mind, mirroring my own.
Morgan stands at the central holographic console. Her face is pale, her silver-streaked hair escaping its bun. She looks like she hasn’t
