POV RUBY
The descent into the bowels of the Urals was a journey into a world where time had ceased to exist. The air became heavy, thick with the scent of wet stone and the ozone of ancient machinery. Nevan carried me as if I were made of glass, his grip iron-clad, his stride never faltering even as the metal stairs beneath us groaned under his weight.
Through the neural bridge, the sensation of him was overwhelming. He wasn't just a man anymore; he was a fortress. The "Binary Soul" link was thrumming with a dark, rhythmic intensity that felt like a funeral march. I could feel the coldness spreading through his veins—a tactical numbness he was using to bury the terror of almost losing us in the hangar.
"Nevan, talk to me," I whispered, my voice echoing off the damp walls. "I can feel yo
