Novels by Gem

Pain became routine.That was the worst part.Davion learned the rhythm of it quickly—the way it crept in when he focused too hard, the way the dampener at his neck pulsed whenever the hum tried to rise. It didn’t shut it down completely. It disciplined it. Like a leash pulled tight every time he stepped out of line.Director Kael called it progress.Davion called it torture with better branding.He stood in the center of a reinforced chamber, bare hands clenched into fists as the walls shimmered. The floor beneath him lit up with concentric rings of energy, each one humming at a slightly different frequency.“Again,” Kael said from behind the glass.Davion breathed in slowly.The hum stirred.Pain followed instantly—sharp, blinding, slicing through his spine. His knees buckled, but he stayed upright, teeth gritted, refusing to give her the satisfaction of collapse.“I’m not a weapon,” he said hoarsely.Kael folded her arms. “Then stop reacting like one.”The rings flared.Davion snap

The first shot wasn’t meant to kill him.Davion felt that instantly—the trajectory, the restraint behind it. The round shattered the concrete inches from his head, forcing him back as armed figures poured into the ruins from three directions. They moved with precision, spacing perfect, weapons trained but not firing.Containment.He backed toward the broken wall, pulse racing. “I said no.”The woman didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. “You misunderstand. This isn’t an offer anymore.”The hum under Davion’s skin surged, furious, hungry. The world sharpened—edges glowing, sound stretching, time bending just enough to make space for instinct.He moved.Davion launched himself sideways as a stun burst tore through the space where he’d been standing. He hit the ground rolling, came up firing, and felt the hum respond like a living thing. The air rippled.Three attackers slammed into the ground as if crushed by invisible weight.They didn’t get back up.The woman’s eyes gleamed—not

Davion moved without looking back.He cut through alleys choked with smoke and broken glass, keeping to shadows, letting instinct guide his steps. Sirens wailed somewhere behind him, but not the kind meant to help. These were sharp, directional—signals meant to funnel prey.The hum under his skin pulsed in warning.They were close.He vaulted a collapsed barricade and dropped into a drainage corridor just as something slammed into the street above. The impact rattled the concrete ceiling, dust raining down around him. Davion hit the ground running, boots splashing through shallow water as his lungs burned.Don’t stop. Don’t think.But his thoughts came anyway.Mira’s face when he’d turned away. Jared shouting after him. Beverly’s voice breaking as the signals spiked.Leaving hadn’t been bravery.It had been damage control.The corridor opened into an abandoned service tunnel. Davion ducked inside and pressed his back to the wall, forcing his breathing to slow. He closed his eyes for h

They didn’t sleep that night.Davion sat on the floor of the temporary command room—an abandoned transit office with cracked screens and flickering lights—his back against the wall, knees drawn up, eyes fixed on nothing. Every time he closed them, the hum grew louder. Not painful. Not yet. Just… aware.Like something breathing with him.Across the room, Mira paced. She had changed her bandages twice already, more out of frustration than necessity. Jared leaned over a table covered in maps and half-functioning tablets, arguing quietly with Beverly through a static-filled holo.“We can’t keep pretending this is a coincidence,” Beverly said. “The attacks stopped when Davion left the area.”Mira stopped pacing. “That doesn’t prove anything.”“It proves enough,” Beverly replied. “Whatever he’s carrying—it’s acting like a beacon. Not just to the Custodians.”Davion finally spoke. “To who else?”Silence.Then Beverly said carefully, “To anyone who knows how to listen.”Davion pushed himself

The quiet didn’t last.Davion felt it before anything actually happened—a pressure behind his eyes, a faint tightening in his chest, like the city itself was bracing. He stood on the roof of a half-damaged parking structure, watching emergency lights flicker below as responders moved through the streets. People were alive. That mattered.But something was wrong.Mira noticed it too. She leaned against the concrete barrier beside him, arms crossed, eyes scanning the skyline. “You’re doing that thing again.”“What thing?”“Staring like you’re listening to something the rest of us can’t hear.”Davion swallowed. “Because I am.”The hum beneath his skin pulsed faintly, not loud enough to hurt—but persistent, like a distant signal calling his name. He hated how familiar it felt.Beverly’s hologram flickered into existence between them, her face pale under the blue light. “I’m getting reports from three other cities.”Davion turned sharply. “Already?”“Yes,” Beverly said. “Same pattern. Brie

Davion woke to silence.Not the peaceful kind. The kind that rang in his ears, sharp and hollow, like the world had been scooped out and left behind. His body felt wrong—heavy, numb, distant. For a moment, he couldn’t tell where he ended and the rubble began.Then pain arrived.It came in waves, rolling through his chest, his head, his limbs, each one demanding attention. He sucked in a breath that burned all the way down and coughed hard, dust tearing at his throat.Light flickered above him.Broken lights.Sparks.He shifted, groaning, and a slab of concrete slid off his shoulder. The movement sent a spike of agony through his ribs, but it also reminded him of something important.He could move.“Mira…” he rasped.His voice echoed weakly through the collapsed tunnel.No answer.Panic surged, sharp and sudden. Davion forced himself upright, ignoring the protest from his body. The hub was gone—reduced to twisted metal and melted walls. Smoke curled lazily through the air, carrying the