The Surrogate’s Blade
She pressed a small, weighted silk pouch into my hand.
"The Phantom Blade won't be enough tonight," she whispered, her voice a cold, efficient rasp. "Use this when the lights go out again."
I opened the pouch. Inside was a high-frequency disruptor—a device designed to fry synthetic nervous systems.
"They're coming for the mother, Elena," Sarah said, her eyes boring into mine. "Not the child. Make your choice."
Outside, the first explosion rocked the North Wing, and the floor tilted beneath my feet. I gripped the disruptor, the cold weight of the metal biting into my palm.
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