Page 138 of GlitchBorn Heart

“But every time he looks at me, I feel...I don’t know, something?” I raise an eyebrow, the words rushing out before I can stop them. “A pull I don’t want but can’t ignore. Like I’m supposed to be around him, with him. Like the universe is saying we have to be near each other whether we like it or not.” I shift nervously in my chair. “It’s maddening. I hate myself for it. But I’m tired of fighting it.”

Ember studies me, then smirks again, softer this time. “So that’s why you spit fire every time he’s near. You’re terrified of wanting him?”

“Yes,” I whisper. “Because I know if I stop fighting, I’ll fall...hard.” I joke to break the tension building in the air like bricks being stacked. “Plus, he has a really big d—”

“Stop! No!” Ember takes another sip of her tea. She’s laughing so hard it threatens to escape through her nose. “Mental picture not needed of my boss.” She’s studying me over the rim of the mug. “You’re not stupid, Lyra. You know what Kael is.”

I bristle. “And what is he?”

“Just how big?” She turns toward me. Her lips twitch. “Kidding. He’s a brilliant man who’s the architect of the largest corporate system in the world. A man who doesn’t stop once he’s set his mind on something. A man who is also, unfortunately, beautiful, obsessive, arrogant, impossible...” She laughs softly to herself. “But loyal.”

Her admission gives me something to think about. “I used to think he was the same as your father. Cold. Ruthless. Corporate.”

“And now?” Ember interjects.

My eyes flick toward the frosted glass of Kael’s office again, where his shadow still moves. “Now, I know he’ll burn the world down for what he wants. The question is, does that include me?”

The hum of the servers suddenly feels louder. Kael’s presence is still heavy even behind a wall. For a moment I swear his shadow hesitates, like maybe he’s listening.

Silence again. Then Ember actually laughs, surprising even herself. “We’re a mess, aren’t we? Falling for men who’ll ruin us.”

I turn away, heart pounding. Ember shifts back to her keyboard, pulling up another file. Cup in one hand, keys tapping with the other. For a moment, it looks like routine, until she mutters under her breath and pushes her chair back. “Wrong file. I’ll fix it later.”

I can’t quite make out the look on her face. Her lips curve, but it’s not a real smile. It’s a practiced one. The kind you wear when you’ve had a lifetime of hiding things.

“Everything okay?” I glance at her screen. Maybe I went too far with my sharing.

“Fine. Just a log I need to check out in the archive. She turns the monitor toward me and nervously lifts her tea. “Be right back.” She points to the empty cup. “More TurboTea needed. I’d offer you some, but I don’t think it would have the same effect on you as before.” She stands and walks toward the door to the back room of the lab where Kael stores shelves full of data chips containing backups and histories.

I drift closer to her terminal and look at her screen, expecting to see some code gibberish or a long list of to-dos from Kael, but instead I see names and dates, U21 magic abilities, and the name they’ve been assigned to describe their magic. I take a closer look before she returns.

The screen she left open isn’t just junk data. It’s a log. Detailed records of names, locations, and status updates.

At first I think it’s another list of anomalies destroyed by the Corporation, the proof I need on Kael’s ruthlessness. But then, one column catches my eye in bold red: Transferred. Relocated.

I scan to the top of the document: ANOMALY RELOCATION—AUTHORIZED BY DR. KAEL RYUDON—SCI (SENSITIVE COMPARTMENTED INFORMATION)

I touch one of the names on the screen, and a file card appears. Names, faces I don’t recognize but could almost swear I’ve seen on the news feeds.

In the bottom corner of the card, labeled as HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL, are relocation coordinates and rebel safehouse codenames. Jett Novarre’s name is attached to every line, and his sigil is etched at the bottom.

I force myself to breathe. Not execution orders. Not deletion logs. Not blood on his hands.

Relocation. Freedom. He’s been reporting anomalies to Vikktor but also to Jett, pitting them against each other, seeing who gets there first. He’s trying to save them from the CIC without getting caught. It’s a huge risk.

Kael hasn’t been killing them.

The floor seems to tilt. I feel like Kael’s sword has been shoved through my chest. The hatred I’ve carried, the certainty that he was my captor and an executioner, it falls to the pit of my stomach.

Everything I thought I knew about him, about his cold compliance, shatters like glass. Why did I pass such a hard judgment? I’m no better than Vikktor passing judgment on non-citizens or U21s. I place my hand over my mouth as shame fills the space where my heart is.

Ember returns with her steaming cup and pauses when she sees me staring. For just a moment, she doesn’t reach for the keyboard. She lets me read and lets me process the data.

She did it purposely.

She wanted me to see Kael through her eyes, not the clouded image portrayed in the corporate-driven media.

“Lyra?” She tests the waters of the flood she’s just released.