Read Girl From Above #3: Trapped for Free Online Page A

male synthetic could trace us. What if she was dying? No way. I couldn’t deal with this. Not now. Not again.
    “Fuck …” I leaned in close and peered into her shallow eyes. “Are you in there?”
    She wasn’t breathing, but that didn’t mean anything. She didn’t need to breathe.
    “Synth …” I whispered, cupping her face, forcing her to look through me. “Haley?” Nothing.
    Shit.
    I unlatched her wrist comms, adjusted it to my own wrist, and pinged the doc. “Lloyd. There’s a problem with the synth.”
    “Oh”—he exhaled hard—“she found you.”
    “She was hacking into the port authority using the datacloud and now she’s out cold.”
    “What? You’ll have to be more specific. Why was she—”
    “How can I be more specific? She’s lying on the floor, and I’m not getting anything from her. No breathing. Nothing. She looks … dead.” Shit, my voice cracked, and he heard it.
    His voice softened. “It’s okay, Captain. I suspect it’s a hard reset. Although I don’t know why she’d execute a reset in public. Where are you?”
    “I can’t tell you that.”
    “Why not?”
    “It’s safer for you if you don’t know.”
    “Was she experiencing an episode?” His tone had hardened; clearly, this was my fault and he didn’t trust a thing I said. His opinion of me hadn’t improved of late.
    “No.” I’d witnessed her episodes. She’d struggle with whatever was going on inside her head, mumbling random nonsense about protocols, and then she’d fall quiet. This wasn’t that. “She went into the cloud to help …”
    “When she comes around, bring her straight back to the ship. I have some new equipment, and this isn’t normal behavior.”
    I ended the call and settled my gaze on the synth’s perfect face. With her blank look and flat gaze, this was too much like Jesse. There was nobody home. Grief clawed at my insides, trying to rip me apart. Hot and cold shivers had a hold of me, like some drug comedown, but this was all my own fucked-up nightmare. I deserved this. I scrambled back and made it to the bathroom before heaving up what little there was in my guts.
    The synth found me sitting back against the bathroom wall maybe fifteen minutes—maybe fifty minutes—later. She stood in the doorway, judging me with her perfectly impassive face, spearing her gaze right through me. She’d see the wetness on my cheeks, the cruel twist of my lips. I didn’t know what she thought, but I did care, and that made her indifference so much worse.
    “He’s here,” was all she said, and then all hell broke loose.
----
    I heard the noise first , like an explosion. The male synth slammed into #1001, and in a blink, she was gone from the doorway. A breath later, the sound of shattering glass spurred me into action. I came out of the bathroom, my heart in my throat, and saw #1001 clinging to the wrong side of the window frame. Lyra’s dazzling lights backlit her, and her silvery hair flared around her face. The male synth drew his fist back. She’d never hold on. I knew from experience that he hit like a truck. I had a broken rib and bruised kidney to prove it. I was on him before I’d considered running. Hooking my arm around his neck, I yanked him back, but all it did was divert all of his attention onto me, and I found myself smashed into the floor, pain snapping up my back all over again. I coughed and tasted blood . Shit.
    #1001 jumped him from behind, locking her legs around his waist and her arms around his throat. Her face was startlingly calm as she jerked his head back, clearly trying to snap his neck. He clawed at her shoulders and hair, turning and staggering on the spot. Then he slammed her backward into the wall, bringing half the plasterboard down around them.
    Run. I saw the order in her eyes as her gaze snapped to mine. The male synth rammed her back again and again to loosen her grip, and he did it all with the most serene and empty expression.
    Run, right, because there