Alex regained consciousness to the rhythmic beeping of medical equipment. The antiseptic scent of a hospital room filled his nostrils as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. His first coherent thought was of her.
"Sonia," he murmured, attempting to sit up.
"Easy," James cautioned, emerging from the shadows of the room. The familiar calculating look had returned to his eyes, though something else lingered beneath—perhaps regret. "The medical team says you'll make a full recovery. The blast wave caused minor cranial trauma, but nothing permanent."
Alex ignored his brother's clinical assessment. "Where is she?"
James hesitated, an uncharacteristic display of uncertainty. "In the east wing. Stabilized, but..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Different."
Alex swung his legs over the bed's edge, ignoring the wave of dizziness that threatened to topple him. "Define 'different,' James."
"The neural implants are gone—completely purged by the shutdown sequence. Physically, she's recove
