Page 113 of GlitchBorn Heart

His jaw flexes in thought. His eyes dart from me to Kael to Jett. The void in him pulses harder, a faint echo trembling in the walls of the speakeasy, bottles rattling behind the bar. “Easy for you to say, Lyra. You’re not the one strapped to a bed upstairs, being drained like a fucking battery.”

“Eli.” My voice sharpens. “Please.”

Ember checks her watch. But before she can speak, the void lashes out. The DreamNet band seizes, barely powering up.

His own words come out of his mouth in a distorted echo: “They’re lying to you.”

The air warps. Eli clutches his head, eyes blazing black and violet. “I can’t. Don’t make me...”

Kael swears. “Dammit, Jett, now!”

Jett lunges, his hand glowing faintly with that strange, soul-reaving power. The moment he brushes Eli’s shoulder, his image splinters. Eli screams. Every light in the bar shatters into neon shards. The walls ripple like water, and the speakeasy collapses into raw static.

I put both arms around him. “No. I have you. You’re safe. Don’t do this. Count with me, Eli!” My EchoWeaver power touches the edges of the black void beginning to build.

“Eli! How long does it take for the sun to set?” I begin counting. It looks as if he remembers even through the void energy. For a minute, it seems to hold. The black threads recede like an ocean tide.

Jett bear hugs the both of us, then shoves me frantically at Kael. I land in his already open arm, safe. Kael is already aiming his gun at Jett. Everything synchronized to the fraction of a second, just like we rehearsed. This is the moment we pull him free.

“Extracting in three!” Kael warns. His finger pulls the trigger, and blue pulses fire into Jett’s back. At the same moment, Jett fires a handgun into Eli. They’re both instantly ghosted, disappearing like pixelated smoke rings. Kael shoots Ash, then Ember, both of them dissolving away from the speakeasy.

The room narrows. It’s just Kael and me. Sweat beads on his brow, his breath heaving with adrenaline-fueled determination to see this through. He kisses me deeply, both hands wrapped around my face, and then hands me his gun. His eyes find mine.

Dark. Heavy. Possessive. Even here, where he’s nothing more than a digital image...just like me.

“Do it!” His forehead rests on mine. His voice is steady, but there’s something underneath it, something raw. “Ghost me, Taiyō. Get me out.”

My throat tightens. It’s just a game, but my hand hovers over the trigger. The simple gesture will keep him safe, send him collapsing into light, and release him back into his body.

It should be easy. I hate him, don’t I? He’s the man who trapped me here, the man who hunts down people like me, the man who touches me like he owns me.

But I can’t look at him without remembering his gentle hands on me, his kisses, the way his body moved with mine when his fingers were inside me. Right now, we’re the same, a digital copy of ourselves. The playing field is level.

I lower the gun. “Why can’t you do it yourself?”

His lips curve into a wide smile. “Because I want you to know I trust you.”

The words gut me. I want to scream. He has no right to say that, not when he built this system, not when he lives in the shadows and keeps Vikktor’s secrets. Even in the heat of this moment, when timing is key to rescuing my brother, he wants me to know that trust goes both ways.

You’re not really shooting him, Lyra. It’s just a game.

My fingers shake as I raise the gun again. “Goodbye, Kael,” I whisper. The words crack in my throat as they come out, heavier than I want them to be.

His hand shoots up, wrapping around my wrist, not tight, and not stopping me. He’s re-aiming the gun straight into his heart. His eyes lock on mine, drowning me in the abyss of them as he places the barrel to his chest.

“Not goodbye,” he whispers softly. “If something happens, I’ll always find you.” He touches my fingers and squeezes the trigger with me.

His body fragments into light, shattering out of the game. My chest aches like I’ve just ripped something vital out of myself. Ghosting him should be a victory, but for some reason it feels like a loss.

Alone, I collapse in the booth, the speakeasy dissolving entirely around me until all that is left is black grid-space.

No.

I didn’t get shot. I didn’t exit through a thread. I don’t feel any magic flaring in my veins. I’m not the one doing this.

I scream into the darkness. “Eli! Please don’t!”

I can’t be in the pitch black of the voided grid anymore. I decide to fight it.