The hum was gone. For the first time in months, the constant digital buzz in my marrow—the "Bloodline" whispering data into my brain—was silent. The darkness of the fortress was absolute, smelling of ozone and the damp, cooling earth.
"Xavier?" Alexandra's voice was a small, fragile thing in the blackness.
I reached out, my hands fumbling until they found her waist. I pulled her flush against me, my heart hammering against my ribs—not because of a system alert, but because of the sheer, terrifying reality of being human again.
"I'm here," I breathed into her hair. "It's over. I shut it all down."
"You killed the Vane Empire," she whispered, her hands climbing up my chest to cup my face. Even in the dark, I could feel her searching my eyes. "Do you regret it?"
I leaned down, brushing my lips against hers. It was a soft, slow kiss, untainted by biometric synchronization or power surges. It was just skin on skin. "I'd burn a thousand empires to hear your voice without a computer translating your pulse. We're free, Alex."
But as we stood there, the distant sound of heavy boots echoed from the surface. The Council's private security wasn't going to let the "God of the Delta" walk away that easily.