บททั้งหมดของ Bad Medicine: บทที่ 91 - บทที่ 100

Sienna woke up to the sound of her own heartbeat.It was fast, erratic, like the rhythm of fear. The motel room was dark except for the thin crack of dawn leaking through the blinds, painting a slash of gold across the bed. Jax lay beside her, his breath shallow, his eyes closed—but even in sleep, tension coiled in every line of his body.He hadn’t slept more than a few hours in days. Neither had she.Sienna sat up quietly, watching the faint tremor in his fingers. It wasn’t cold. It was something deeper—an internal storm she couldn’t reach. His body had healed from the last Syndicate ambush, but his mind… that was a battlefield no surgeon could repair.She pressed a hand gently to his chest. His skin was warm, the heartbeat steady—but beneath her palm, she could feel it. That wrongness. The subtle, electric hum that didn’t belong. The ghost of her father’s neural code still tangled in Jax’s brain.Her father’s voice—his control—was supposed to be gone.But she wasn’t sure anymore.“J

The fire burned through the night.Sienna sat in the ash-choked clearing, her knees drawn to her chest, watching the wreckage of the lab smolder. The explosion had flattened everything — the old walls, the shattered terminals, the nightmare that had haunted her for years.Everything except that tiny flickering light.The neural drive.It lay half-buried in the dirt, pulsing faintly red, like a dying heartbeat.Sienna stared at it, too terrified to touch it. Her fingers trembled anyway. “Jax?” she whispered. “If you’re in there—”The light brightened.Then came the voice.“Sienna…”Broken. Distorted. But real.Her heart clenched so hard it hurt. “Jax, oh my God—Jax, it’s you!”Static crackled, the voice cutting in and out. “…can’t…stay long… you have to move…”She blinked through tears. “Where are you? What’s happening?”“…system… not dead… he’s coming…”She froze. “My father?”The pulse on the neural drive flared again. “He’s… split. Part of him’s still inside the network. You have to

Sienna came to with a gasp.Cold air slammed into her lungs. She was no longer in the neon-lit city of code but on a floor made of concrete and steel. The metallic tang of blood and ozone filled her mouth. Lights buzzed overhead, flickering between gold and blue.She blinked hard, trying to remember. Her father. The pull. The black code crawling over her skin.And Jax.“Jax?”Her voice cracked. Only static answered.She pushed herself up slowly. Every muscle trembled. The room around her looked like a lab — one she didn’t recognize. Half-smashed monitors, dangling wires, the faint hum of a generator struggling to stay alive.When she lifted her hand, she saw faint veins of light beneath her skin, pulsing like fireflies. Not human. Not natural.Her stomach twisted. “Oh God… what did you do to me?”A soft echo came from behind her.“You let him in.”She spun around — and for one surreal heartbeat, she thought she saw her father standing there, whole and human. But then the illusion flic

The world around Sienna wasn’t real.She knew that the second the air shimmered and broke apart into pixels.Her body wasn’t heavy anymore—it was a projection, a rough outline of who she’d been before. The ground beneath her wasn’t solid; it pulsed like liquid glass, rippling with every step. Above her, there was no sky—only endless code, raining down like silver snow.She was inside the network again.Her pulse raced, even though technically, she didn’t have one here. Every sound echoed, every flicker of light felt alive. The digital world breathed around her—slowly, like a giant machine inhaling.“Jax?” she called softly, her voice trembling. It barely echoed in the vast, glowing expanse. “It’s me. I’m here.”Silence.Then—somewhere in the distance—a faint hum, like a low guitar string vibrating.Sienna followed it. Her feet—or the illusion of them—moved across the light floor that seemed to form just ahead of her steps. She passed floating panels of code and fractured memory fragme

The monitors wouldn’t stop flickering.Every few seconds, Jax’s face would glitch into existence — pixelated, half-digital, half-recognizable — then vanish again.Sienna sat up on the gurney, IV still in her arm, watching the loop like it might breathe if she stared long enough.“Chase, shut it off,” she whispered.“I tried,” he said, typing furiously at his tablet. “It’s not reading as video input or even networked hardware. It’s—”He stopped, frowned. “It’s like it’s projecting itself.”“Projecting?” she repeated, her voice brittle.“Yeah. There’s no data feed. No traceable origin. The image just keeps reassembling itself from your system memory.”Sienna felt her stomach drop. “You mean… he’s in me?”Chase hesitated. “Not in a biological sense, no. But maybe… residual neural overlap. Echoed code from the merge.”She stood, ignoring the dizziness. “It’s him, Chase. I heard his voice.”He met her eyes, cautious. “Sienna—”“I heard him,” she snapped. “And it wasn’t random data noise. H