Sonia's body convulsed as the implant's destabilization protocol ripped through her neural pathways. Alex caught her, his photographic memory capturing every microscopic detail of her deterioration—the way her pupils dilated, the precise tremor in her left hand, the near-imperceptible pulse at her temple. Years of corporate training had taught him to analyze every detail, but nothing prepared him for the raw vulnerability of the woman in his arms.
"The archive," she gasped, blood trickling from her nose, "James can't have it. Not all of it."
Around them, the clearing dissolved into controlled chaos. James's mercenaries struggled with communication interference, their tactical gear suddenly useless against whatever electronic disruption Sonia's implant was generating. Geneva stood motio
