WHEN ISABELLA’S HAND closed around Dex’s, the tether flared. Not violently. Not deliberately. Just there—sudden and undeniable, like a sense he hadn’t realized had gone dormant until it woke all at once.

Dex froze, fear spiking sharp and instinctive before his mind could catch up. It had been weeks since the severing, weeks since he’d felt this kind of connection without Malik standing across from him monitoring readouts and calmly confirming that CASPER was still holding. This wasn’t a test. This wasn’t controlled. This was an accident—and the first unintentional tether he’d experienced since being cut loose from the Order.

The fear should have been louder. Instead, what rose beneath it was relief. The realization hit him with quiet force, unsettling in its familiarity. He’d told himself he didn’t miss this—that not tethering had been a relief, that being sealed off from other people’s inner lives meant freedom and safety.