novelraw Chapter 410: Like A Wreaking Ball
Chapter 410: Like A Wreaking Ball
Zubair frowned as the sound of Alexei tapping on the bars of their cages rang throughout the corridor. "That will bring soldiers, not Sera," he grunted, disappointed for a reason he couldn’t actually explain.
Alexei shifted slightly and the bed under him creaked again. "Not the bars. The... thing underneath. The part they can’t measure properly anymore."
Zubair went still.
"You mean us," he said.
"Yes."
Lachlan snorted. "Well, that’s vague and reassuring."
Alexei exhaled slowly. "We ate. A lot. Fresh meat that was unlike anything we had ever eaten before. Enough that everything inside us changed again. You feel it. I know you do."
Zubair rolled his shoulders once. The heat under his skin flared in response, eager, pleased.
He did feel it.
More strength. More pressure. More... reach.
Before, the creatures had been loud in their own heads and distant claws in Sera’s. Now something about the distance felt different. Shorter. Shallower. Like wires had been laid between them, even if they weren’t plugged in yet.
We are not just meat in separate bags anymore, Zubair’s creature drawled. We are parts of the same burn. You stand on one side of the fire. She stands on the other. All we need is a spark in the middle.
Zubair leaned his forehead against the cool metal.
"You think you can push through," he murmured.
I know I can push, it answered. Whether I land where I want to land depends on her. The river has to choose to meet the flame, or it just turns to steam.
Alexei spoke again, low. "Psycho thinks Sera’s creature already hears us. All the time. Just... doesn’t answer."
"Why not?" Lachlan demanded.
"Because we’re loud," Alexei replied. "Because we’re half-feral. Because we don’t know how to knock."
"And Psycho does?"
"Yes," Alexei said simply.
Zubair’s lips twitched. "Arrogant thing."
Correct thing, his own creature countered. The cold one’s monster plays with lines differently. It sees patterns we don’t. It might find the path.
Lachlan kicked his door. "So what, we just stand here while the freak in Alexei’s head knocks polite on Sera’s skull?"
"Unless you have a better idea," Alexei replied.
There was silence again as Zubair and Lachlan remained quiet. They didn’t have a better idea, and they both knew it.
Zubair shut his eyes. "Let it try."
We will not sit back and watch, his creature warned. If you take this step, there will be no going back.
"I didn’t say we would," Zubair answered.
He could feel Alexei straighten on the other side of the wall. The air in the block changed—just a hair, just enough to make the skin on Zubair’s arms prickle.
When Alexei let Psycho close to the front, everything grew... sharper.
Not hotter. That was Zubair’s domain.
Cooler. Too clear. Like the air after lightning.
"You’re doing the thing," Lachlan muttered. "I can feel it. Hate that I can feel it."
"Good," Alexei replied.
Zubair let his hands tighten more firmly on the bars and let his creature push closer to the surface. Not taking his vision. Not taking his limbs. Just pressing its awareness up into his like two sets of eyes overlapping.
The world brightened and the edges sharpened.
The lines in the concrete looked deeper. The imperfections in the steel bars jumped out—scratches, manufacturing flaws, residues from past cleanings.
The hum in the walls separated into layers. Power. Ventilation. Distant generators. Footsteps dozens of meters away.
And under that, something else.
Faint. Thin as a hair.
Not sound. Not exactly.
A ghost of a presence.
There, the creature inside him whispered. Do you feel it? That pressure in the teeth? That itch under the nails? That is her. Far. Distracted. But there.
Zubair gritted his teeth.
"Psycho," Alexei murmured, "find her."
He wasn’t talking to them anymore. Not really. The words were for the thing under his own skin.
Zubair had never heard Psycho directly. Not like he heard his own creature. But he felt it now. A chill ripple through the block, like something ran its fingers along each bar, each bolt, each root of every tooth in their heads.
Lachlan hissed. "Don’t like that."
"Shut up," Zubair said quietly.
The creature in him agreed. Quiet. Let it work.
The air grew heavier.
Not in temperature. Weight.
Something in the center of Zubair’s chest tightened.
Psycho wasn’t smashing anything. It was threading around him, trying almost to anchor itself to him in a strange way.
Zubair saw nothing, but he felt it—lines reaching out, not into the air, but into whatever lay between air and bone. Between heartbeat and breath.
Reaver reach.
It brushed past him, through him, across Lachlan, through the concrete, up into the structure above.
Small. Precise. Searching.
Bold little thing, Zubair’s creature muttered, grudgingly impressed. Dig, then. Find our sun.
Seconds stretched.
The hum of the facility went on—unchanged, indifferent.
Then it happened.
Zubair’s breath hitched.
For a moment—a heartbeat—something hot and wild whipped through the thin connection Psycho had laid.
Not his creature.
Not any of theirs.
Something both stronger and weaker than anything they had ever experienced. But despite all that, it was still recognizable in the way a fire recognized its source of fuel.
Sera.
It wasn’t words at first. Just sensation. A flash of metal under skin. Cool restraints. Frustrated amusement. A hard, bright pulse of irritation focused not at them, but at something in front of her.
Mercer.
There, Zubair’s creature growled, delighted. She hears.
The pulse snapped back, almost too fast to count. Reflex. Instinct. Like a hand slapped away.
The link wobbled.
Lachlan sucked in a sharp breath. "What was that?"
"Her," Zubair said, voice gone rough.
Alexei inhaled slowly. "Psycho says contact established. Briefly."
"Briefly?" Lachlan echoed. "That felt like getting punched in the throat."
"She’s busy," Alexei replied.
Zubair understood.
Pinned. Watched. Poked at.
He knew how Sera reacted to that.
She will not open fully while surrounded, his creature reasoned. She cracked the door with her foot. Enough to see who was outside. Not enough to invite us in.
Zubair pressed his forehead harder against the bars.
He pushed then.
Not subtle. Not careful.
More like a wreaking ball... all force and little care for the distruction around him.
After all, he didn’t know how to be careful the way Psycho did—with thread and line and precision. His reach had always been impact.
So he reached the way he knew how.