Page 61 of GlitchBorn Heart

I WILL CONTINUE TO MONITOR

My screens flare with protest as the security patches launch then halt. The anomaly resists, light scattering, then reshapes. It’s not just code. She’s fighting back. She’s fighting me.

Good Girl.

I roll my shoulders and let the darkness back in, the part of me most people never see. The side that enjoys this type of game, the clash, the raw power of every keystroke. I sit at the console ready to engage.

“Come on,” I taunt under my breath. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Lyra. Come out and play.”

For a moment, I forget why I’m here. I forget the grief, the panic, Ember’s wide eyes, Ash’s relentless questions. All I feel is the pulse of power through the machine. My machine.

Her presence hits me like a whisper through the wires. Something moves, not just resisting, but showing itself only to me.

There she is. My smile disappears, my chest tightening. The darkness I wield so easily twists into determination. It’s sharper than any weapon I’ve ever used. My predatory behavior erupts. If it’s her, then she’s mine to protect. Mine to drag back from whatever hell she was tossed into.

Mine.

I slam another location command into the keys. My voice is low, deadly. “You can’t hide from me, Lyra. I found you in DreamNet, I’ll surely find you here.”

The system answers with a crackle of static over the lab speakers, like laughter. I lean closer to the screen, eyes blazing. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.” A bitter laugh scrapes my throat.

You’re losing it, Kael. I mutter to myself, eyes drifting upward.

Vikktor will want reports soon; Ember’s probably already reporting back as I sit here, and Ash...he won’t let this go. He’ll dig until he finds her. He’s always been like a dog with a bone.

Maybe he already knows more than he’s telling me. I grit my teeth. If Vikktor discovers what’s really inside the system, he won’t just delete her. He’ll dissect her, exploit her, turn her into another weapon for the Corporation. That’s probably what’s happening to Eli right now.

I can’t let that happen.

Off the cuff, I write a quick script to transfer my voice to system text. I turn to the wall and speak as if Lyra’s standing right in front of me.

“Lyra, I know it’s you. If you can hear me...hold on.” The system hums low, almost like an answer. “I’m going to find you, just a bit longer and we’ll be able to talk to each other. I’m working on it.”

For a second, the sound of static fills the lab, then ripples like a drop of water being spilled. It fades and dies. One word, thin as smoke blooms across the screen. It destroys me to my very core:

YOU

“Talk to me,” I say softly. “If you’re in there, if it’s really you...”

The static picks up again, and the words on the screen return. The text punches the air from my lungs. It’s not a hallucination, or a trick. She’s actually speaking to me through my system. My moment of excitement turns to dread as I read on.

I KNOW WHO YOU ARE

My pulse slams in my ears. “Lyra.” Saying her name out loud feels dangerous. Treasonous. Vikktor could be listening; Ember could come back and see me talking to a ghost. “You shouldn’t be here.” My voice is low. “You don’t belong here. I know. You’ll burn yourself out if you keep fighting. If Vikktor finds you...”

The screens flare, hot red and rich gold. A shrill, almost defiant hiss of feedback screeches through the lab, making the muscles around my brows tense.

YOU BUILT THIS CAGE

YOU DID THIS

The words glitch as they cross the monitors, jagged, breaking apart before I can speak. My stomach twists. It was only a matter of time before she found out who I am. Probably saw me on the feeds. She definitely thinks this is me, that I purposely chained her inside my system, that I betrayed her.

I slam a fist against the console, the echo rattling through the room. “Damn it, Lyra! I didn’t...” I cut the words off before they finish. No use pleading with someone who probably can’t even hear me.

But the violent hum lingers in the speakers, like her presence is pressed against the other side of the glass. Close enough to feel, yet untouchable.

I drag a hand over my stubble, heart hammering so hard it hurts.