Ellen stares at my wrist. Her eyes narrow, the irises turning as cold and hard as crushed ice.
She marches straight toward Jayson, her boots clicking sharply against the concrete floor.
"Care to explain why you just violated Protocol Seven and handed a priority beacon to an unregistered civilian?" she demands, her voice snapping like a whip.
Jayson steps slightly in front of me, shielding my body with his. "She's the focal point of the lower sector anomalies. She needs maximum protection until we extract the data."
Ellen lets out a harsh, humorless laugh. She points a gloved finger at my face. "Look at her, Jayson. She's playing you. She looks exactly like a Trojan virus wrapped in a pity package."
I shrink back, my shoulders hunching. I press myself against the wall behind Jayson, letting out a tiny, frightened gasp.
Ellen's jaw tightens. My display of weakness only fuels her disgust.
She taps the tactical pad on her forearm. A red scanning laser shoots from her wrist, aiming directly at my chest. "I'm running a deep-layer code sweep. Now."
Jayson's hand shoots out. He blocks the laser with his palm.
A deafening, high-pitched alarm instantly shrieks through the safehouse. The overhead lights turn blood red, flashing frantically.
"Warning," the system blares. "Administrator authority conflict detected."
Ellen stares at Jayson's hand, her face pale with disbelief. "You're blocking my scan? For her? We've been partners for four years, Jayson!"
"Her security is my jurisdiction," Jayson says, his voice like grinding stone. "Stand down, Ellen."
The air between them crackles with static electricity. They stand inches apart, neither willing to yield.
A loud, psychotic laugh cuts through the blaring alarm.
Dameon steps out of the shadows. He walks slowly in a circle around us, clapping his hands in a slow, mocking rhythm.
"Oh, this is beautiful," Dameon sneers, his eyes wide and manic. "The perfect little agents, tearing each other's throats out over a piece of trash. So much for loyalty."
Ellen snaps her head toward him. "Back off, Dameon. Before I decide to purge your corrupted ass right here."
Dameon's smile vanishes. His fingers twitch, and the glowing red data blades slide out from his knuckles. He steps toward Ellen, his head tilted at an unnatural angle. "Try it."
I press my hands against my ears, the noise and the suffocating tension making my chest ache. I am trapped in a room with three apex predators about to tear each other apart.
I blink hard, pulling up The Warden's interface.
"Jayson Affinity: 85. Ellen Affinity: -10. Dameon Affinity: -15."
A massive red warning box covers my vision. "Critical Alert: Team cohesion failing. Internal conflict will result in immediate quest failure and erasure."
I have to stop this. Words won't work. I need something visceral.
I press my hand hard against my throat, right over the bruises Dameon left. I force myself to remember the agonizing feeling of suffocating.
I let out a choked, wet gasp. My knees buckle. I slide down the rough concrete wall and collapse onto the floor, curling into a tight ball. I start to hyperventilate, my whole body shaking violently.
Jayson's head snaps toward me. The anger drains from his face instantly. He drops his hand, cutting off the conflict alarm, and drops to his knees beside me.
He reaches out, his hands hovering over me, afraid to touch me and cause more pain.
Ellen freezes. She looks down at my shaking form, a flicker of doubt crossing her hard features.
Dameon scoffs. He retracts his blades and walks back into the darkest corner of the room, leaning against the wall, watching me like a hawk.
"Medical module, now!" Jayson barks at the console. He looks up at Ellen. "She needs rest. We're done talking."
Ellen takes a deep, angry breath. She holsters her weapon. "This isn't over, Jayson. When she wakes up, she gets interrogated."
She turns on her heel, walks to the far side of the room, and drops into a chair in front of the monitors, her back rigid.
I keep my eyes squeezed shut. I lean my head against Jayson's chest, listening to his racing heartbeat. The immediate crisis is over, but the executioner's axe is still hanging over my neck.
