Page 29 of Thexan

The shift in him was immediate.

And this time, I didn’t pretend not to notice.

“We’ll make it work,” I said.

His grip tightened around mine, steady, controlled.

“Yes,” he said. “We will.”

And for the first time since I’d found him at my door, I believed it wasn’t just determination that made that possible.

It was both of us.

Chapter Eight

Thexan

The alignment did not hold.

For a time, after the planning had settled into something structured and deliberate, my system maintained the balance Brynn’s proximity created. The instability remained present, but contained; the disruption along my neural pathways held within limits I could regulate through discipline and controlled response.

It was insufficient.

The change began gradually, a subtle shift beneath the surface of that control, the internal pressure building without a clear point of origin. I tracked it immediately, isolating the variables as best I could, but the pattern did not match the earlier cycles. This was not the result of movement or strain from the wound.

It was deeper.

Residual interference from the weapon had begun to reassert itself, disrupting the alignment at a level Brynn’s proximity alone could no longer fully compensate for.

I did not move.

I remained where I was, maintaining position, forcing my system to stabilize through discipline rather than reaction. The instinct to compensate physically—to shift, to seek more direct contact—pressed forward with increasing intensity, but I contained it, holding it back as long as I could while I assessed the rate of degradation.

It accelerated.

The control I had maintained began to fracture, not abruptly, but in increments, each one reducing the precision of my responses, narrowing my focus as the instability pushed harder against containment.

I drew in a measured breath.

It did not settle.

Across the room, Brynn stilled.

She had been moving—organizing, preparing, maintaining the structure she relied on to manage variables—but now she stopped, her attention shifting without hesitation as she registered the change.

“What just happened?” she asked.

Her voice was steady, but her awareness was already fully engaged.

“The interference has increased,” I said. “The previous alignment is no longer sufficient.”

She crossed the distance immediately.

The moment she came within reach, the effect was measurable. The instability did not disappear, but it slowed; the escalation interrupted as her presence reestablished partial control.

“Define ‘not sufficient,’” she said.

I met her gaze.