Kaelen POV
Mother's hand cracks across my face before I even see her move.
My head snaps sideways, cybernetic implants sparking from the impact. Blood fills my mouth—copper and shame mixed together.
"Four months, Kaelen." Seraphine's voice is ice wrapped in poison. "Four months you've been playing house with that genetic defect, and still no tribunal. No arrest. No proof you're anything more than a failure."
I straighten slowly, tasting blood, trying to find the emotionless mask I'm supposed to wear. But it's getting harder to find. Every day with Nyx has been pulling it further away, revealing someone underneath I barely recognize.
Someone who feels things. Terrible, wonderful, dangerous things.
"The mission requires patience," I say carefully. "Building trust takes—"
"Building trust?" Mother laughs, and the sound makes my skin crawl. "You're not building trust. You're building attachments. I've reviewed your biometric data from last night. Your heart rate when you touched her. Your dopamine levels when she said she loved you. Your cortisol spike when you sent me that message."
She knows. Of course she knows. Mother monitors everything.
"The evidence is secured," I say, forcing my voice steady. "Her access codes, her confession on recording, her complete trust. Everything needed for the tribunal. I just need a few more days to—"
"To what? Fall deeper in love with her?" Seraphine circles me like a predator studying wounded prey. "Do you think I'm stupid, Kaelen? Do you think I don't see what's happening to you?"
"Nothing's happening to me. I'm completing the mission exactly as—"
Her hand shoots out, grabbing my throat. Her Celestial strength—three times normal human capacity—lifts me off the ground effortlessly. My feet dangle. I can't breathe.
"Don't. Lie. To. Me." Each word is punctuated with increased pressure. Black spots dance across my vision. "I'm your mother. I created you. I programmed every neural pathway in your brain. I know when you're malfunctioning."
She drops me. I collapse, gasping.
"When you were twelve years old," Mother says quietly, "you fell in love with a human servant. Do you remember? A girl named Elena who cleaned the training facilities. You used to sneak her treats from the dining hall. You wrote her poems. You were going to run away together."
My chest tightens. I remember. God, I remember.
"I found your plans," Seraphine continues. "Found the credits you'd stolen, the forged transport passes, the safe house coordinates. You were going to throw away everything—your training, your future, your purpose—for a girl who would die of old age before you even reached middle age."
"I was a child," I whisper. "I didn't understand—"
"You understood perfectly. You were defective. Broken. Too human." Mother's eyes bore into mine. "So I fixed you. I had the best neural surgeons in the city rewire your emotional centers. Cut out the weakness. The sentimentality. The pathetic need for love."
"And Elena?"
"I killed her. Right in front of you. Made you watch every second while she begged you to save her. Made you hold the injection device yourself while the poison stopped her heart." Seraphine smiles. "You cried for three days straight. Then the surgery. Then you never cried again. You became perfect. My perfect weapon."
Nausea rolls through me. I remember that too—Elena's face, her screams, her hand reaching for mine as she died. I remember feeling everything shatter inside me. And then I remember feeling nothing at all.
Until Nyx.
"But somehow," Mother says softly, dangerously, "you've started feeling again. That defect girl has undone nineteen years of programming in four months. You love her. Admit it."
"I don't—"
"ADMIT IT!" Her shout echoes through the office. "I've seen your neural scans! Your emotional centers are reactivating! Areas that should be dead are lighting up like fireworks every time you think about her!"
She grabs my face, forcing me to meet her emerald eyes.
"You're broken again, Kaelen. Defective. And defective tools get destroyed."
Terror floods through me—real, primal terror that the old Kaelen would never have felt. "Mother, please—"
"I'm giving you one week." She releases me with a shove. "Six days. That's how long you have to complete this mission and prove you're not completely useless."
"Six days isn't enough time to—"
"To do what? You already have everything you need! Her codes, her confession, her complete trust. All you have to do is drag her before the tribunal and watch her die. That's it. That's the entire mission." Seraphine leans close. "Unless you can't do it. Unless you've fallen so completely in love with her that you'd rather die than hurt her."
The words stick in my throat. Because she's right. God help me, she's right.
"I can do it," I force out. "I can complete the mission."
"Can you?" Mother's smile is cruel. "Then prove it. Six days, Kaelen. Dawn on the seventh day, you bring Nyxara Solene before the tribunal in chains. You present the evidence. You recommend her execution and the purging of her district. You watch her die knowing you put her there. And you do it all without hesitation."
"And if I can't?"
"Then I assign Enforcer Dravus to kill you both. He's been monitoring your failure with great interest. He'd love the chance to eliminate two defects with one operation." Seraphine walks to her desk, dismissing me. "Oh, and Kaelen? Dravus has orders to make it slow. Especially for the girl. I want you to hear her screaming your name while she dies. A final lesson in the cost of weakness."
My hands clench into fists. "You're a monster."
"I'm a realist. And I'm your mother. I'm trying to save you from yourself." She doesn't even look at me. "Six days. Choose wisely."
I leave her office on shaking legs.
Six days.
In six days, I have to either kill the woman I love or watch us both die.
There's no third option. No escape plan. No way out.
I stumble to the observation deck overlooking the Fringe districts. Somewhere down there, Nyx is probably at the Academy, studying, believing in our future together. Believing in my promises. Believing I'm going to save her brother and change the world.
She has no idea she's already dead.
My communicator buzzes. A message from Nyx:
Thank you for last night. For everything. I keep thinking about the future we're going to build together. I've never been this happy, K. I love you so much it scares me. -N
The device almost slips from my trembling fingers.
I love her. Despite the surgery, despite the programming, despite nineteen years of being Mother's perfect weapon—I love her.
And in six days, I'm going to destroy her.
Unless...
An idea forms. Terrible. Impossible. Suicidal.
What if I warn her? What if I tell her everything—the mission, Mother's ultimatum, the trap she's already in? What if we run together?
We'd be hunted. Killed. It would be a short, brutal chase ending in our executions.
But at least we'd die together. At least I wouldn't have to live the rest of my life knowing I betrayed the only person who ever made me feel human.
My finger hovers over the reply button.
Six days to choose between love and survival.
Six days to decide if I'm my mother's weapon or my own person.
Six days to figure out if redemption is even possible for someone like me.
I start typing a response to Nyx, then delete it. Type again. Delete again.
Because there's a third option I haven't considered. One so dangerous it might destroy us both.
What if I fake the betrayal? Give Mother enough evidence to satisfy her, but arrange for Nyx to escape before the tribunal? Make it look like I completed the mission while secretly sabotaging it?
It would require perfect timing. Perfect execution. One mistake and we're both dead.
But it's the only way to save Nyx and survive Mother's deadline.
I'm still planning when my communicator buzzes again. Unknown number:
I know what you're planning, Enforcer Voss. I know about your mother's ultimatum. And I have information that could save you both. Meet me at coordinates 47.3N, 103.2E. Midnight. Come alone. Bring proof you're serious about saving the girl. -A Friend
My blood turns to ice.
Someone knows. Someone's been watching. Someone has information about Mother's operation.
This could be a trap. Or it could be salvation.
Five and a half days left to decide.
And midnight is six hours away.