Page 76 of The Monster's Daughter
It’s barely a whisper. I glance back.
Natalie’s crawling out from the vent, trembling.
Her skin is...moving.
I freeze. Her veins shimmer with silver, crawling under the skin like mercury vines. Her eyes blink wrong. Too slow. Tooin sync.
“Natalie,” I whisper, racing to her and dropping to my knees. “No. No, baby, not again.”
She shakes in my arms. “It’s still there. Inside. It’s whispering again.”
My chest splits open. Not literally, but damn if it doesn’t feel like it. I smooth her hair back. Her scalp’s burning. Her breath stinks of metal.
“Don’t let it back in,” I whisper. “You fight, okay? You hold on. You are not a vessel. You areyou.”
“But I’m scared.”
“I know,” I murmur. “Me too. But fear doesn’t get to win today.”
I scoop her up, slam her against my hip, and tear down the last hall with Kage’s sled scraping sparks behind me.
We reach the ship. It’s a rusted scrapyard shuttle barely holding together—half duct tape, half hope. I slam the hatch closed, drop the blast seals, and lay them both down—Kage on the med cot, Natalie in a biostatic field.
I don’t get to cry. I don’t even breathe.
I move.
I open the old lab compartment. It stinks of stale protein rations and oxidized copper. But it has what I need: injectors, neural interface lines, containment fluid. The EMP Kage used hitexternal systems—but Natalie needs something that’ll goinside.
Her bloodstream. Her nervous system.
I rig the charge. Micro-dosed nanite disruption, modified for child-compatible physiology.
But that’s not the only problem. Nulegion isn’t just in her blood.
It’s in her mind.
And if I just blast it... I risk blowing her consciousness with it.
So I make a choice.
I reach for the micro-conversion serum.
It was outlawed for a reason—meant for combat interlinking, neural-to-neural warfare. You inject it, sync to the target's brainwaves, and fight from the inside. No armor. No weapons. Just will.
I prep the needle, glance at Kage’s inert face.
“You saved me,” I whisper, and my voice catches. “Now it’s my turn.”
I jab the needle into my neck.
The world fractures.
CHAPTER 42
KAGE
Pain. It’s the first thing I register. Not sharp—no, worse. Dull, marrow-deep, like my whole skeleton is thawing after being flash-frozen. My limbs are lead bricks, my nerves frayed wires sparking on every breath. My lungs pull in air that tastes like rust and ozone, and my brain boots slow, piecing reality together like a puzzle missing its center.
