Page 158 of GlitchBorn Heart

But I’d rather smother in darkness with her than live in the light without her.

In the lab, I’ve been burying myself in code, rewriting every string, every bypass, every back door. My veins of magic flaring, guiding my fingers faster than I ever thought possible. Yet nothing ends with my Little Taiyō out and in my arms. It’s always:

EXTRACTION INCOMPLETE

Every damn time.

I re-wrap my knuckles, letting the blood flow through them, hoping to cleanse away any blockages preventing me from the desired outcome of complete extraction. The wall monitor blinks in my periphery, a couple of pieces of choked static, and then Lyra appears in her window form. I flex my hands, glancing up at her through sweat-laden strands of hair.

“Hi.” Her voice cuts into the silence, small, introspective. Just hearing her voice makes my knees weak with desire.

I half-expect LINK to ruin the moment with a startling command, but she’s not here. It’s just Lyra and me, standing in the faint glow of the monitors and muted morning light.

Lyra hugs herself, worry is smeared all over her pretty face. “It’s too quiet.”

“Yeah.” My voice comes out rougher than I want it to. I’m supposed to be calm, the one who always exudes authority. I have to hide the tremor in my words.

She glances at me, reading me the way only she can. “You’re stressed.”

I huff a bitter laugh. “I don’t get stressed.”

“Then what’s that?” She gestures to my hands, the white wraps turning red, stained and spotted. I can feel my heartbeat drumming in my temples, a faint flicker of orange still pulsing in my ink. She’s too observant. Always has been.

I step closer, into the darkness, and let her image cast golden light over me. “It’s called recalibrating. I’m not in the habit of ripping open my own system to create a person.”

We fall into silence. The sim program pings, letting me know it has completed another test scenario. I’m loath to look at it.

“How does this all end?” she asks quietly. Her tone is somber, not the normal Lyra, filled with magenta-and-amber sunlight.

“When I pull you out”—I force confidence into my answer—“LINK will lose her hold. The grid will collapse behind you. But you’ll be real, Taiyō. Breath. Blood. Touch. No code. No limits.”

“And you? How will it end for you?”

I hesitate, eyes shifting downward. “It looks like I may have to use my magic to force this, to become the system. There is a risk of total collapse. If that happens the way I think it will...” A humorless smirk. “I could go down with it.”

Her face tightens. “No. You’re not dying for me.”

“Not dying, re-coding. If LINK takes me out, the system goes down with me. And that’s how I keep you safe.”

Lyra suddenly appears in holo-form in front of me, blocking my path back to the mat. She grips my bloody hands, her wavering holo-touch running a path of chills up my arms. She leans in, her breath ghosting against my lips. “Find another way. You always do.”

“Working on it.” I brush her hair behind her ear and press our lips together. The kiss tastes of salt, sweat, and unshed tears. Sorrowful, like I’m preparing to say goodbye. I feel my body freeze in place.

“I trust you.” She gives me a look as if the words sting as she releases them.

“Mhmmm...you’re such a pretty little liar, Taiyō.” Her forehead rests against my lips. I pull her away, my gaze fixed on her mouth. I’m already longing to rejoin our lips for another breathless, messy, too many emotions packed into this moment, kind of kiss.

“You don’t have to hate me to survive anymore.” Blood from my knuckles soaks her cheek with a hint of red.

Her hand grips mine gently as a sigh escapes. “Then what do I do? I don’t know any other way.”

“Join me, fight beside me. And when this is over . . .” I hesitate. “Then you’ll finally be mine.” The kiss that follows isn’t desperate, it’s deliberate. It’s an agreement. Two entities syncing after too long apart.

“I’m scared,” she admits. “Not of dying. Of not feeling. Of waking up and not being me anymore.”

My heart stutters, as if an arrow has been shot clear through all four chambers. I reach up, fingers twisting in the back of her hair. “You’ll still be you because I’ll make sure of it. I’m not letting you go anywhere. Even if something like that were to happen, I’ll do whatever it takes to bring you back to me.”

She nods, but I can still see the little seeds of doubt and fear beginning to sprout. I lead her to the sofa, her sketchbook right where she left it. I pick it up and sit her on my lap. I begin to speak as I draw. “This is how it happens,” I say quietly. “The extraction.”