The narrow alleys of Stone Town felt like they were closing in on me, the ancient coral-rag walls sweating with the humidity of the Indian Ocean. Every step I took sent a jolt of jagged pain from my snapped forearm up to my shoulder, a dull, rhythmic grinding of bone that made my vision blur. I leaned against a carved wooden door, the rough grain digging into my shoulder, and puked a thin stream of bile onto the cobblestones.
I didn't have time to be sick.
"Sasha," I whispered, the name catching in my dry throat.
The "black liquid" Isaac had injected was still leaking from the silver scar on my wrist, leaving a greasy, dark trail behind me. It wasn't just data; it felt like a living parasite, a cold weight that made my veins feel like they were filled with sludge. I could still hear the
