Tayo’s fingers twitched as he worked, sweat beading on his brow despite the cold, damp air of the basement. The glow of the holographic display cast sickly shadows across the walls, its flickering light barely illuminating the squalor they had surrounded themselves with—discarded needles, empty food packets, and the stench of desperation.

  Lena sat slumped beside him, her knees pulled to her chest, scratching absently at her forearm where her barcode was etched beneath her clammy skin. It had been days since their last dose of Synth, and her body screamed for it. Her muscles ached, her head throbbed, and every nerve felt raw, exposed, gnawing at her willpower. But willpower was a luxury she had never possessed.

  “You taking all night, or what?” she muttered, her voice hoarse, cracking from dehydration and disuse.

  Tayo didn’t respond immediately, too focused on the illegal code-mirroring device in his hands. His own withdrawal symptoms were gnawing at him, but he forced himself to ignore the tremors, the sweat pooling at the base of his neck. One mistake and this would be over before it started.

  “If this works,” he finally said, voice tight, “we’re in.”

  Lena let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Yeah? And if it doesn’t?”

  He swallowed, not willing to answer. They both knew what failure meant. No Synth. No credits. No escape.

  She groaned, shifting against the wall. “God, I just need a hit. Just one. I can’t—” She cut herself off, pressing her hands against her temples. She didn’t want to be sober. Sobriety meant facing the mess she’d made of her life, the bridges she’d burned, the choices that had led her to this basement. And she couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t.

  Synth wasn’t supposed to exist. The United World had worked tirelessly to eradicate drugs, flooding the streets with rehabilitation programs, genetic modifications, and social incentives to create a cleaner, more functional society. But addiction wasn’t a habit—it was a disease. One that found its way through the cracks, no matter how well-sealed the system was. Synth had appeared like a specter of the past, more potent than anything before it, twisting minds and bodies into its grip before they even realized they were trapped.

  Lena had never stood a chance.

  Tayo glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “We’ll have enough to last us a lifetime if this works.”

  “Then hurry the hell up.” She sniffed sharply, rubbing her nose as she rocked slightly in place. Her skin had taken on a grayish pallor, and dark circles carved hollows under her eyes. She was breaking. He could see it.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Tayo took a deep breath and ran the device along his barcode. The scanner in his hand glowed blue.

  Lena sat up, her eyes suddenly bright. “Holy shit.”

  Tayo exhaled, staring at the display. “System thinks I’m Teddy Baldwin.” He looked at her, his expression halfway between exhilaration and terror. “He’s got more credits than we’ve ever seen.”

  She let out another sharp laugh, manic and breathless. “Shit, I hope you’re right.”

  With a shaking hand, she pressed the final command.

  For a second, the scanner stayed blue. Hope flickered in her chest.

  Then—red.

  A piercing alarm shrieked through the basement.

  Lena barely had time to process the sound before Tayo screamed.

  His body convulsed violently, muscles locking as an electric shock surged through him. The device clattered from his grip as he collapsed onto the filthy floor, his back arching off the ground in agony.

  Lena scrambled away, knocking over a pile of empty syringes as she pressed herself against the wall. “Tayo!”

  His limbs jerked uncontrollably, pain twisting his face into something unrecognizable. The barcode on his forearm burned red-hot, resetting itself back to its original sequence. The system had caught them. It knew.

  The holographic display blinked aggressively, flashing an automated warning across the screen:

  UNAUTHORIZED CODE ALTERATION ATTEMPT—INDIVIDUAL FLAGGED GLOBAL SECURITY NOTIFIED

  Lena’s breath came in ragged gasps as she watched Tayo twitch, his body still wracked with aftershocks. The air smelled of burned skin and fear.

  “Tayo,” she whispered, her voice small.

  He coughed violently, spitting bile onto the floor. His eyes were unfocused, glassy. He tried to move, to sit up, but his body failed him.

  Lena hovered over him, her own panic giving way to something worse—cold, creeping inevitability. “What do we do?”

  Tayo barely managed to shake his head. His lips parted, breath hitching. “Run.”

  But they both knew there was nowhere to go.

  Their barcodes were flagged now. Every scanner, every checkpoint, every security drone would recognize them in an instant. No food. No shelter. No access to medicine.

  No Synth.

  Lena gritted her teeth. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

  She scrambled to her feet, pacing wildly. “No, no, we—we can fix this. We just need to—” Her voice broke. Her nails dug into her arms as she shook her head furiously.

  Tayo let out a weak, wheezing laugh. “It’s over.”

  “No,” she snapped. “Shut up. Don’t say that.”

  He groaned, pressing his forehead to the grimy floor. “We lost.”

  Lena’s breathing turned ragged. A tremor ran through her hands, but it wasn’t from withdrawal anymore.

  “I can’t do this,” she whispered. “I can’t be—” The word caught in her throat. She couldn’t be sober. Couldn’t face the weight of reality pressing down on her. Not now. Not ever.

  She needed escape. She needed oblivion.

  She needed Synth.

  Her frantic gaze darted around the basement, searching for something—anything—that might help. But all she found were shadows and the ever-growing certainty that she had just destroyed any future she might have had.

  Footsteps echoed above them. Heavy. Unhurried.

  Tayo’s breathing hitched. “They’re here.”

  Lena’s hands curled into fists.

  A voice crackled through an unseen speaker. Cold. Mechanical. “Surrender immediately.”

  Lena’s vision tunneled. It felt like the walls were closing in, like her skin was too tight, like the universe itself had conspired to drag her into the void she had spent so long trying to outrun.

  Tayo coughed, his strength draining. “Lena—”

  Her hands shook. Her knees buckled.

  She had tried to beat the system.

  And the system had won.