RIVAL’S POV
The chip felt heavier than it should in my palm. Smooth edges, faint metallic scent — like it was holding its breath, waiting to scream again.
Thomas’s warning echoed in my head: You can’t destroy it.
That sounded like a challenge.
I dropped to one knee beside a busted crate, pulled my knife, and set the chip on the flat of the blade. The steel vibrated faintly, like it was alive.
“Rival, seriously—” Thomas started.
“Shut up.”
I brought the hilt down hard. A sharp ping rang out, but the thing didn’t c***k — it just bounced, rolled once, and came to rest like it was mocking me.
My teeth clenched. I hated tech that thought it was smarter than me.
I tried again, twisting the blade this time, forcing the edge into the seam I could barely feel. Nothing.
Thomas was fidgetin
