Heartbeat in Chains

Chapter 14 — Strings Attached

Marcus Liu’s body straightened, too fast, like a puppet pulled taut. His glassy eyes fixed on Blackwell, but the voice that came out was hers.

“You’ve always been predictable, Doctor. Still hiding behind lost causes.”

Blackwell’s jaw flexed. “And you’re still too cowardly to show up in person.”

Her laugh slipped through Liu’s throat, wrong in pitch, stretched too long.

“Why would I? He does everything I need. No sleep. No doubt. No conscience.”

Evelyn shivered. Liu’s hands—her father’s former colleague’s hands—were curling into fists, tendons standing out.

“Don’t do this,” she said, voice cracking. “He’s not yours to use.”

The head tilted, almost birdlike.

“Everything is ours, Evelyn. Including you. Especially you.”

Then Liu moved.

Fast. Too fast for a man who should’ve been ordinary. His fist cut through the air toward Blackwell’s temple.

Blackwell ducked, the punch slamming into the concrete wall, plaster exploding. Liu didn’t flinch, didn’t feel pain.

Scalpel flashed. Blackwell slashed low, across Liu’s forearm. Blood welled—real, human blood—but Liu didn’t even look at the wound.

“See?” the woman’s voice purred. “Flesh is only packaging. He can’t stop until I let him.”

Blackwell gritted his teeth, stepping back toward Evelyn. “They’ve looped his motor cortex. He won’t stop.”

Evelyn’s heart hammered. “Then cut the loop!”

Blackwell’s eyes flicked to the signal sniffer on the table, still blinking faintly. “Keep him busy.”

Her throat went dry. Me?

But Liu was already pivoting toward her, eyes wide, expression empty.

Evelyn grabbed the nearest thing—her father’s IV stand—and swung. The metal clanged off Liu’s shoulder, enough to stagger him half a step.

“Good,” the woman’s voice said through him. “Fight harder. It makes the pairing cleaner.”

Blackwell lunged for the sniffer, fingers flying over its dials. The lights spiked, chirping sharp, then steadied.

Liu froze mid-step. His mouth opened, but instead of the woman’s voice, a garbled static hiss filled the room.

Blackwell twisted the dial again. The static rose to a scream—then silence.

Liu collapsed, his body jerking once, twice, before lying still on the floor.

Evelyn’s chest heaved. “Is he…?”

“Alive,” Blackwell said, wiping sweat from his brow. “But the control’s severed.”

The room was quiet again, save for the monitor’s steady beep. Evelyn’s hand shook as she lowered the IV stand.

Then her phone buzzed. A new message:

You cut one string. We have hundreds. Try again, and we’ll pull Asset #93 until he breaks.

Her eyes burned as she looked at Blackwell. “They’ll use my father until there’s nothing left.”

Blackwell’s voice was low, resolute. “Not if we burn their whole theater down.”