Her eyes widened. “What does that mean?”
“There’s a residual cascade—neurological spasms, almost like aftershocks in the brain stem. It’s not just from trauma. It’s induced. The implants weren’t just receivers. They were triggers. When we removed them, it looks like a dormant biochemical failsafe activated.”
“Failsafe?” she breathed. “Like a kill switch?”
Tristan didn’t answer right away.
Charlotte backed up. “Tristan—talk to me.”
He nodded grimly. “Yes. There’s a secondary compound in his bloodstream. Synthetic. Hidden. It activated when the second implant was extracted. It’s attacking his hippocampus. His brain is trying to reject the last forty-eight hours of memory and motor function. He’s seizing intermittently. Shutting down.”
“What does the hippocampus do?” Her breaths came in fast gulps.
“Memory and cognitive function. If it’s destroyed, it will be difficult, if not completely impossible, for him to create new memories, recall past experiences, and he’ll lose spatial navigation, as well as potential issues with mood and social behavior.”
Charlotte pulled her knees to her chest.
“It’s progressing fast.”
Her hands flew to her mouth. “Can you stop it?”
Tristan hesitated. “James may have a countermeasure. He’s acquired a deep-tissue neural flush, but it’s experimental, never used outside animal trials. He got it from a colleague whoworks at the technical center at the college. He’s working on an Alzheimer’s cure. If we wait too long, the damage might become irreversible.”
“Then don’t wait,” she whispered, already moving to the door.
Tristan blocked her again, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “I need to be honest. If this doesn’t work… Alex may survive, but he might not remember you. Or anything. He could wake up blank. Gone.”
Charlotte swallowed back the scream building in her chest. “No,” she said, voice shaking. “That’s not going to happen. I got him back once. I’ll do it again. Whatever it takes. I need to tell him I love him.
“I was a fool. I kept pushing him away. Looking at what I lost instead of what was right in front of me. If he requires someone to take care of him, I will do it willingly. We need to give him a chance.”
Tristan nodded slowly. “Charlotte, you need to understand that this is unauthorized experimentation.”
“And what they did to him was authorized?”
“The likely answer is yes.” Tristan took her hand. “You’re his best shot at coming back whole. Just… be prepared.”
She turned to the door, hand frozen on the latch before pushing it open. No matter what waited, she wouldn’t let him fall alone. Tristan used his ID card then followed her into the ICU. The machines were louder than before. That was the first thing Charlotte noticed.
She stepped into the glass room and immediately felt the shift—the way the air hung heavier, how the monitors beeped in urgent staccato rhythms. The overhead light cast shadows on Alex’s face, his skin pale and waxy now, a thin sheen of fresh sweat breaking across his brow again. A tube into his lungs breathed for him.
He was seizing—subtly. His fingers twitched, one leg spasming beneath the blanket. His head jerked slightly every few seconds, as if invisible hands were tugging threads from inside his mind.
James was already at his side, flanked by a nurse and an anesthesiologist. His expression was carved from granite. “His temperature has spiked to 105.4. His vitals are fluctuating,” he said without looking up. “His deeper neural systems are under attack. Whatever they left in his bloodstream, it was designed to eat its way up the ladder, all the way to the cortex.”
Charlotte moved to the opposite side of the bed, gripping the guardrail. “Do it.”
James finally looked up. “I haven’t even explained the risk.”
“The bigger risk is to you and Tristan. I don’t need to hear it,” she said, her voice like steel, trying not to shake. “Do it.”
James gave a short nod then motioned to his nurse and the anesthesiologist. “Start the propofol drip.”
The anesthesiologist inserted a syringe filled with the milky white substance into one of Alex’s lines.
“Flush protocol, load Compound Delta-4, start at 0.5 milligrams per kilogram. We go slow, or we kill him with the cure.” James pressed the green button on the medication controller. The bright pink liquid flowed through the tubing.
Tristan entered behind her and stepped beside his brother. “If he codes again, we need to stop.”
