Chapter 59

Chapter 59 (Alex’s POV)

“Hold her down!”

“I’m trying—she’s convulsing!”

Her body jerked violently in my arms. I’d never seen her like this. I’d never felt her like this—so out of control, so far from herself.

“Nell,” I said, gripping her shoulders gently but firmly. “Nell, I’m here. Please stay with me.”

She didn’t respond.

Her eyes were wide and unfocused, her mouth open in a silent scream, as if her mind was somewhere I couldn’t reach.

Langston injected her arm with something from his kit, and within seconds, her body started to settle. But her breathing was still shallow, erratic. Her lips were trembling.

“She’s not stabilizing,” he muttered.

Rick stood over the monitor, scrolling rapidly through brainwave charts on the screen. “She’s in neural shock. The implant’s failing.”

I couldn’t breathe.

My knees hit the floor beside the bed.

“Fix it,” I said.

Rick didn’t answer.

“Fix it!” I shouted, my voice breaking. “You said you could keep her safe!”

Langston looked up, calm but tired. “I said I could try.”

I looked at Nell again. Her face was pale, almost gray. Her fingers twitched against the bedsheets. Sweat clung to her skin. I wiped it away with shaking hands.

“Her memories,” I said. “They’re... they’re leaving?”

“They’re not just leaving,” Langston said grimly. “They’re crashing into each other. The overload is corrupting her core identity.”

“She’s slipping into neural fragmentation,” Rick added. “If we don’t interrupt it—she could become catatonic. Permanently.”

No.

No, I didn’t come this far to lose her again.

I stood up slowly.

And I snapped.

\---

I grabbed the monitor off the table and hurled it across the room. It smashed into the far wall, the glass shattering like a scream.

Rick flinched.

Langston didn’t move.

“She kissed me,” I said. My voice cracked. “And it gave me everything back. Every second. Every detail. I remember it all.”

I turned toward them. “So why the hell can’t I give it back to her?”

No one had an answer.

Not yet.

But I was about to make sure they found one.

\---

Ten minutes later, I stood in the hallway outside the room.

Hands clenched.

Jaw tight.

Body vibrating with rage and fear.

I’d called in everything I had. Every favor. Every old contact. Every buried thread of power I’d left untouched until now.

And she came.

Dr. Evelyn Cross.

\---

She stepped into the hallway like a shadow given form. Thin, sharp, dressed in black.

She looked older than I remembered, but not by much. Same cold eyes. Same tight mouth.

She didn’t flinch when she saw me.

But she paused.

I think she could see it on my face—how close I was to breaking.

“Alex,” she said.

“You don’t get to say my name.”

Cross nodded once.

“I’m here because of her,” she said simply. “Not you.”

“Good,” I said. “Because if she dies, so do you.”

\---

Langston and Rick came out behind me. Langston nodded at her but didn’t speak.

Rick, however, stepped in.

“We don’t have time for posturing,” he said. “She’s crashing. Her brain can’t hold the weight of the synthetic and real data. It’s all collapsing.”

Dr. Cross closed her eyes for a moment.

Then: “I warned them. This phase was never meant for real field use.”

“This phase?” I repeated. “You mean the one where you wipe people’s minds and stitch together new ones like patchwork?”

She didn’t defend herself.

She stepped past me and into the room.

\---

She moved slowly, like she didn’t want to startle Nell—though Nell wasn’t moving at all.

Just lying there.

Still.

Too still.

Cross looked at the monitors, then at the implant data Rick handed her.

“She’s too far gone to do a full reset,” she murmured. “If we try, we’ll kill her before we stabilize the cortex.”

“Then what?” I asked. “You said there was a way.”

Cross nodded slowly.

“There’s one last option,” she said. “It’s experimental.”

I walked closer. “I don’t care. Say it.”

“We link you to her,” she said.

Everyone turned.

“Directly,” she continued. “We form a temporary neural bridge between your mind and hers. Your memory of her becomes the anchor to rebuild her identity.”

Langston’s eyes narrowed. “That’s... untested.”

“It’s risky,” Cross admitted. “It could destabilize both of you. She could pull you under with her. Or the bridge could collapse mid-process and trap you both in cognitive feedback.”

“You mean a coma,” Rick said.

“Or worse,” Cross said softly. “You lose who you are.”

I looked at Nell.

Her hand had fallen off the bed. I picked it up and held it gently in mine.

“Would she come back?”

“If it works,” Cross said. “She’ll remember you. And herself. But it has to be voluntary. Your mind has to be fully open to her. If you resist—even a little—the bridge will shatter.”

I didn’t even hesitate.

“Do it,” I said. “If it means saving her, I’ll risk everything.”