Reed had once warned that brains were untrustworthy – that like any computer, they could be hacked.

the briefest flash of pale, pale ice over a thin-boned shoulder. Neon caught the red lotus splayed on her elbow and lit it on fire.

Tears of pain are as regular as blood and piss.

For a strained moment, I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t hear anything but the shattered pulse of a hammered artery struggling to keep up; fury carved in stinging wasps.

...as my fist drove through her ribs. Bone cracked. Shifted. The numbers in my optics hit steel-bending digits and Muerte lost her footing. My meat flagged, but the arm Orchard had fixed up and the shoulder girdle she’d strengthened didn’t.