Page 112 of GlitchBorn Heart

Where Kael is raw power and Ash is chaos, Jett is sheer perfection. Like a period-correct mob boss who just gives a look to signal his boys to kill everyone in the room.

At our sides weapons materialize. Tommy guns, the weapon of choice for the decade but laced with futuristic detail. Their barrels glow faint neon blue, heat vents pulsing like lungs. The bullets leave trails of electric light. Kael discharges his into the sky above with a boyish look of mischief and mayhem.

Ash whistles, running a hand down the barrel of his. “Well”—his grin is crooked—“looks like prohibition just got interesting.”

We move as a practiced team. The speakeasy’s double doors groan open with a jazz riff spilling out like liquid heat. Inside, the simulation bathes the room in crimson light; musicians on stage sway in time, though the sax player’s fingers occasionally loop and blur before catching up to the beat. U21s crowd around small tables, their laughter low, their drinks glowing faintly against the shadowed room.

Ember checks the additional band around her wrist. It resembles a diamond bangle but displays the time. She’s our alarm. She’ll give us a countdown to make sure we’re not coming in too close to TheKast and that we’re out before we trip any alarms.

Ash tips his fedora low, cigarette flickering, and slides an arm around her waist. “We look like trouble,” he murmurs, voice dripping with charm.

“Correction,” Ember shoots back, “you look like trouble. I look hot.”

Behind them, Kael is well...Kael. He doesn’t need to act. His presence alone dominates the simulation, U21s parting to give him room. He adjusts his trench coat, scanning exits and angles like he’s been trained to do.

I try not to stare at him, as his silhouette cuts through the smoke. I can feel every nerve buzzing with energy. What he does to me is devastating, attraction and repulsion colliding head-on.

Jett moves. The hush that falls when he walks to a booth isn’t coded, it’s pure him. U21s glance his way as though they’ve just recognized a dangerous gangster from the most wanted posters. “Ash, he’s close. You picking him up?”

Ash closes his eyes and listens for tones in the music. “Eli’s just pinged outside.”

“Front door. Two o’clock. Lyra, go grab him, and we’ll be in a private booth.” Kael tips his chin to where Jett is sitting.

At the back, the booth glows with a darker hue, welcoming all of us to sit. “Eli!” I motion to him. Seeing him again takes my breath away, even in simulation. He doesn’t look well. He’s too thin and lifeless. The game has outfitted him in black pants, a black vest, and a crisp white shirt. Black threads of void wrap his arms in pixelated knots. A paperboy cap sits atop his dark hair. His face is still young but broken, pupils diluted into ebony wells, not his usual violet.

He looks like a fuse ready to blow.

I move and hug him. “Eli, it’s me,” I whisper. “We’re safe here. We’re going to get you away from Vikktor. Please trust me.” I lead him over to the booth.

“We?” He looks at me, and then the gang. Confusion crosses his brows, traces of fear on his face. “What are they doing here? And how are you even here?” His words are tense. It’s already not going well.

The room tilts. The plan was simple on paper but delicate like glass in the details. We need him to trust the simulation and believe that we’re here to help. That belief is the key.

Kael speaks up first. “Eli, we’re here to help.” Smart choice of words, but from the wrong person.

The chandeliers flicker violet. The musicians falter, sound distorting for a beat before snapping back. My stomach twists. I’ve known his warning flares for years. Eli is already beginning to spiral.

Kael notices right away and swears under his breath, pulling me back behind his arm.

“Not you.” He snaps and points to Kael. His gaze jerks toward the booth where Ash, Ember, and Jett are on the edge of their seats, ready to act.

Jett stands slowly, the picture of calm authority, and extends his hand to Eli. The pocket watch chain across his chest glows a faint maroon as his magic hums beneath the surface. His voice is steady.

“Eli, I’m Jett Novarre, leader of the U21 rebels. Kael speaks the truth. We’re here to get you away from Vikktor. You don’t have to carry this alone. Let me take it.” He clasps both hands around Eli’s.

Clearly, Jett is making the decision to speed things up.

“No! If you touch me, you’ll take everything.” He snaps his hand back. “You’ll kill me. Kill Lyra. You’re all the same. All of you.”

My heart drops. I can hear Ash humming low chords to provide Eli with a calming vibration. “No, they’re my friends, Eli. Something happened that night they took you.” I touch his arm tenderly. “I’m not dead, just my body is. You know that from finding me, but I’m inside the VikkCorp system somehow. Trapped just like you.”

“This is crazy.” His voided eyes pulse. “They’re holding me in a cell. Some sort of containment chamber that’s supposed to block my magic. It’s not working but I can’t seem to get out. I’ve tried everything.”

“We know.” I motion to Jett. “Jett is coming to get you. You need to go with him. But first, I need you to put this on.” I hand him the hacked DreamNet band.

“Why?” He takes two steps back, suspicion written all over his face. The chandeliers above crackle violet again. “Why would I wear the same thing they used to trap you, Lyra?”

“Because it’s the only way out.” I press. “The only way to sync this rescue to your body without triggering another surge or being found out. Trust me, Eli, this isn’t a trap.”