The elevator's mechanical hum vibrated beneath my feet, a discordant note that clashed with the anchor connection still thrumming between Darian and me. Two hours since I'd left his place, and the invisible tether remained—stretched thin but unbroken, a phantom limb I couldn't stop feeling.
Fuck. I'd actually done it. Created a psychic link with a man whose entire existence was designed to remain unreachable.
I straightened my shoulders as the elevator slowed, centering myself before the doors opened. The Archer Hotel's penthouse suite awaited, along with Chen, Lilith, and whatever emotional manipulation she had planned. Through the anchor, I could sense Darian already there—his static frequency a distant whisper rather than the crushing white noise it had been before.
When the doors slid open, Chen was waiting, anxiety rippling from him in metallic waves.
"Ms. Voss," he greeted, voice pitched low. "Thank you for arriving early."
I nodded, stepping into the penthouse foyer. "Where's our friend?"
"Conference room with the Helix team. Darian's already inside."
Following Chen through the suite, I felt the anchor connection strengthen with each step toward Darian. By the time we reached the double doors to the conference room, the static hum had intensified to a persistent vibration just beneath my skin—not unpleasant, oddly comforting.
Chen paused before opening the doors. "Remember what we discussed. If you feel any emotional manipulation—"
"I know." I cut him off, not needing the reminder. The weight of the frequency modulator disc in my pocket was enough—an emergency amplifier if the anchor connection failed.
The conference room contained the same setup as before—long table, floor-to-ceiling windows, tension thick enough to choke on. My gaze immediately found Darian, seated at Chen's right hand. His eyes met mine, and the anchor between us thrummed with sudden clarity.
*Test it.*
The message wasn't words exactly—more like an impression layered into the static, a directed thought I somehow understood. The anchor was stronger than either of us had anticipated.
Across the table, Lilith sat watching me with that professionally bland smile. Victor Chen beside her, surrounded by Helix executives whose emotional frequencies created a chaotic symphony of ambition, anxiety, and calculated deceit.
"Ms. Voss." Lilith's gaze sharpened. "What a pleasure to see you again."
The moment she spoke, I felt it—a subtle shift in the emotional atmosphere, like air pressure dropping before a storm. Through the anchor connection, I sensed Darian's awareness of it too, his static barrier intensifying protectively.
"Likewise," I replied, taking my seat beside Darian. Our shoulders nearly touched, and the anchor flared brighter with proximity. "I trust everyone's prepared for a productive meeting?"
Victor Chen leaned forward. "We certainly are. Especially after our delightful dinner conversation."
He meant Helsinki. The neural interface stability flaw. I kept my expression neutral as Chen began his opening remarks, my attention split between his words and the emotional undercurrents swirling through the room.
Beneath the surface conversation about market projections and technology integration, a different dialogue unfolded. Lilith was good—better than I'd expected. Rather than broadcasting a single emotional frequency, she targeted different people with precisely calibrated emotional nudges. Pushing uncertainty toward Chen's financial officer. Seeding doubt in his lead engineer. Creating an undercurrent of premature victory in Victor's team.
Through our anchor, I could sense Darian cataloging these manipulations as meticulously as I was. *She's improved,* came the impression through our connection. Not words, but I understood the meaning clearly.
I shifted in my seat, deliberately brushing my arm against his. The physical contact strengthened our link, allowing me to push back: *They're not feeling it consciously. Just responding.*
Chen was presenting neural interface applications for the medical sector—rehabilitation for stroke patients, treatment for neurological disorders. Solid material, but his delivery kept hitting emotional interference from Lilith's subtle manipulations.
Beneath the table, Darian's hand found my knee—not a sexual gesture, but tactical. The direct contact supercharged our anchor, and suddenly I could see/hear/feel exactly what he was planning.
When Chen faltered slightly during his presentation, I leaned forward.
"If I may," I interjected smoothly, drawing attention from Chen's momentary hesitation. "The emotional impact of this technology extends beyond clinical outcomes. The subjective experience of patients reconnecting with lost neural pathways creates profound resonance effects."
As I spoke, I pushed back against Lilith's manipulations—not blocking them entirely, but muddying them, introducing emotional static that disrupted her carefully manufactured frequencies. Through our anchor, Darian provided the static; I shaped and directed it.
Lilith's eyes narrowed fractionally, the only indication she'd noticed the interference. Her manufactured smile didn't waver, but I caught the shift in her frequency—frustration overlaid with curiosity.
"Ms. Voss raises an excellent point," she said, voice honey-smooth. "The emotional component is precisely why Helix's consumer feedback methodology would integrate so beautifully with Meridian's technology."
As she spoke, she ramped up her emotional projection—a wave of synthetic confidence and excitement that washed over the room. But through our anchor connection, it hit a barrier of static that diffused its impact.
I felt rather than saw Darian's satisfaction. Our counterdefense was working.
The meeting continued this way for nearly two hours—Lilith subtly manipulating the emotional atmosphere, Darian and I disrupting her efforts through our connection. A psychological chess match playing out beneath polite corporate discussion.
When Victor Chen presented Helix's financial projections, the emotional manipulation intensified. Lilith stopped being subtle, broadcasting waves of optimism and security so strong they would have overwhelmed me without the anchor connection.
Under the table, my fingers found Darian's wrist, skin to skin. *She's pushing too hard. Something's wrong with these numbers.*
His response vibrated through our link: *Bottom line inflated by thirty percent. They're desperate.*
I focused on the Helix CFO, detecting the sour note of deception beneath his confident presentation. Through our anchor, I directed Darian's attention to the specific frequency pattern.
Darian cleared his throat. "These projections assume immediate integration of Meridian's neural interface technology with no adaptation period. Industry standards suggest a minimum twelve-month integration timeline."
The CFO's frequency spiked with alarm—he hadn't expected this challenge. Victor Chen intervened smoothly, but the damage was done. Doubt had been seeded.
Lilith's eyes locked with mine across the table. The bland smile remained, but I felt her focused attention like a physical touch—probing, testing, seeking weaknesses in my defenses.
Then she did something unexpected. Her frequency shifted, becoming a perfect mirror of mine—an eerie reproduction that resonated with the anchor connection between Darian and me.
Pain lanced through my temple as she somehow accessed the frequency of our anchor and tried to integrate herself into it. Through our connection, I felt Darian's shock, his static barrier momentarily disrupting.
*Shut it down,* came his urgent impression.
I broke eye contact with Lilith, severing the connection she'd tried to establish. The pressure eased, but a dull throb remained behind my eyes.
"Are you alright, Ms. Voss?" Lilith asked, concern dripping from her voice like poisoned honey. "You seem... strained."
"Perfectly fine," I replied, forcing a smile. "Just processing the impressive numbers Helix has presented."
The meeting wrapped shortly after, with promises of follow-up sessions to address technical integration questions. As everyone gathered their materials, Lilith approached me directly.
"I'd love to continue our conversation from dinner," she said, standing close enough that her manufactured frequency brushed against my shields. "Perhaps a private lunch? I find your perspective... illuminating."
Before I could respond, Darian materialized at my side, his static barrier intensifying protectively.
"Unfortunately, Ms. Voss has prior commitments," he said, voice professionally neutral despite the tension I could feel through our anchor. "Perhaps another time."
Lilith's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Of course. Another time." She turned to leave, then paused. "Interesting technique, by the way. The anchor connection. ECHO-7 experimented with similar approaches, though none quite so... intimate."
The statement hit like ice water. She knew exactly what we'd done.
As she walked away, Darian's hand pressed against the small of my back, guiding me toward the exit. Through our connection, his message was clear: *Not here.*
We maintained professional silence until we reached the elevator. Once the doors closed, isolating us, I rounded on him.
"She fucking knows. About the anchor. About us."
"Yes." His expression remained controlled, but through our connection, I felt the undercurrent of concern. "She attempted to establish a triad link."
"A what?"
"Integrating herself into our connection. It shouldn't have been possible." His jaw tightened. "Subject Three's abilities have evolved beyond our projections."
The elevator reached the lobby, but Darian pressed the button for the parking garage. "We need to talk. Not here."
In the garage, his sleek black car waited. As soon as we were inside, the privacy glass separating us from the driver rose automatically.
"What the fuck just happened up there?" I demanded, the pain in my temple still throbbing. "She tried to hack our connection."
"She recognized the frequency pattern." Darian's hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. "The anchor connection creates a unique resonance that she detected and attempted to manipulate."
"How is that possible? You said the static barrier would protect us."
"It did. Partially." His gaze met mine, amber eyes darkening to that near-black shade that indicated intense focus. "But Lilith was always the most adaptable. She's found a way to recognize and replicate frequency patterns beyond emotional projection."
"Fuck." I pressed fingers against my temple, trying to alleviate the persistent ache. "So what now? The anchor's compromised?"
"Not compromised. Detected." Through our connection, I felt his strategic assessment forming. "We need to strengthen it. Create additional layers she can't penetrate."
The implications hung between us. Strengthening the anchor meant more intimate contact. More vulnerability. More of whatever the hell had happened in his living room that morning.
"There's something else," I said, remembering Lilith's parting comment. "She mentioned ECHO-7 experimenting with anchor connections. But not the 'intimate' version. What did she mean?"
Darian's frequency shifted through our connection—discomfort, calculation, resignation. "ECHO-7 tested various methods of creating psychic anchors between operatives. The program found that physical intimacy created the strongest connections, but the approach was deemed... ethically problematic."
"So they didn't use it." It wasn't a question.
"Not officially." His gaze held mine. "But some subjects formed connections independently. The program studied the results."
Realization dawned. "Lilith was one of them."
He nodded once. "Subject Three and Subject Five."
The missing subject. The one who escaped.
"What happened?"
Through our anchor, I felt his reluctance, memories surfacing that he'd rather keep buried. But he answered anyway.
"Their connection became too strong. Five's ability to amplify emotional states affected Three. Her ability to project manufactured emotions affected him. They created a feedback loop that nearly killed them both." His voice remained steady, but I felt the tension beneath. "When the program was terminated, Five destroyed half the facility escaping with Three. Then they disappeared."
"Until she resurfaced as Lilith Everett," I finished.
"Yes. Without Five." Something dark and complicated pulsed through our connection. "The program never located him."
"And you think he's still out there?" I asked, watching his expression carefully.
The static between us thickened, but not enough to hide his discomfort. "I think Lilith wouldn't be here without a reason. And I think her attempt to integrate with our anchor suggests she's looking for something specific."
The car pulled up outside my building. I hadn't even realized we'd been moving.
"You need to tell me everything," I said. "No more holding back. Whatever you know about why I was chosen for this job, about the missing subject, about Lilith's real agenda—I need to know it all."
He hesitated, and I grabbed his wrist, skin to skin, forcing clarity through our connection.
"Darian. I'm not walking into another meeting with her without knowing what I'm really part of."
Something shifted in his expression, resignation mixed with something like relief. "Not here. My place. Tonight."
"Now," I countered.
"I have a meeting with the client. Can't reschedule." His fingers wrapped around mine where I still gripped his wrist. "Eight o'clock. I'll send the car."
The intensity in his gaze made my pulse quicken. Through our anchor, I felt his determination, his calculation, and beneath it all, a current of genuine concern that surprised me.
"Fine. Eight o'clock." I released his wrist and reached for the door. "But I want everything, Darian. No more tactical omissions."
"Everything I know," he agreed. "You have my word."
As I stepped out of the car, our anchor connection stretched but held. I paused, looking back at him through the open door.
"One more thing. If I find out you're still manipulating me, I'll cut myself off from this anchor so completely you'll feel the severing in your fucking bones."
A flash of something like admiration pulsed through our connection. "I believe you would."
"Damn right." I slammed the door and walked away, feeling his static presence recede as the distance between us grew.
Eight hours until I'd get answers. Eight hours to prepare for whatever truth he'd been keeping from me. Whatever connection existed between me, Lilith, and the mysterious Subject Five who'd brought this whole fucked-up situation into being.
The anchor between us hummed with anticipation, a tuning fork struck and left to vibrate. Whatever happened tonight would change everything—I could feel it in the frequency of his promise, resonating through the connection we'd created.
What I couldn't feel was whether those changes would heal or destroy us both.