Novels by Khayra Pena

The air inside the safehouse smelled of stale coffee, industrial floor wax, and the metallic tang of hidden weapons. Farhan gasped, his eyes snapping open. The white ceiling didn't look like his, and the silence was too heavy to be his own apartment. He sat up, but his shoulder screamed in protest, forcing him to clutch his side."Take it easy," a voice said from the shadows.Mariana stepped into the light, a mug in each hand. She looked exhausted, her hair pulled back into a messy bun, her tactical jacket discarded on a nearby chair. She offered him the steaming mug."Where am I?" Farhan asked, his voice raw. He ignored the coffee, his hands curling into defensive fists. "How did I get here? And why am I still alive?""You're in a basement that doesn't exist on any municipal map," Mariana said, setting the mug on a metal table. "You got here because I dragged you into my car after you fried that entire warehouse. And you're alive because I’m a glutton for punishment, apparently."Far

The flickering orange glow of the city grid map on Mariana’s tablet cast harsh, angular shadows across her face. She sat in the driver’s seat of her parked sedan, the engine purring softly, a stark contrast to the chaotic data streaming across her screen. Every spike, every localized surge, and every anomalous reading from the last twenty-four hours was tagged with a timestamp and a set of GPS coordinates.She traced the trail with a gloved finger. It wasn't random. It was a path."You’re a real mess, aren't you, kid?" she muttered to the empty car. "First a localized thermal event that turned an apartment into an oven. Then a mass-displacement gravity fluctuation over the rooftops. And finally... this."She tapped the screen, bringing up the most recent alert: a massive, localized EMP that had fried every electronic device within a three-block radius of the old industrial district."Electricity," she whispered, her voice tight with a mixture of professional obsession and genuine conc

Chapter 8: Storm in the VeinsThe air behind the apartment building didn't just vibrate; it shrieked. As Farhan hit the fire escape, every screw, bolt, and rusted iron plate reacted to his presence. Sparks, brilliant and jagged as broken glass, erupted from his fingertips, dancing in a frantic, uncoordinated ballet."Stop! Please, just stop!" Farhan gasped.He didn't realize he was shouting aloud until his own voice crackled with a distorted, synthetic interference, like a radio playing through a blown-out speaker. He looked at the railing; his hand had fused to the metal for a microsecond before the connection vaporized the iron entirely. A gaping hole now sat where the railing should have been."You're not a man anymore, kid," he whispered to the wind, his voice flickering in and out. "You're a short circuit."He didn't look back at the window where Mariana stood. He didn't look for Jax. He simply leapt.He cleared the alleyway with a single, terrified bound, his descent cushioned b

Farhan stood before the door, the wood groaning as he shifted his weight. His skin, now a heavy, matte-grey alloy, felt like a suit of armor he couldn't take off. He didn't wait for an invitation. He gripped the door handle, the metal snapping off under his pressurized grip, and shoved the barrier aside.Mariana stood in the hallway, looking more amused than alarmed. She wasn't alone. Beside her, a man with a shaved head and tactical gear that looked military-grade held a silenced pistol leveled at Farhan’s chest."I thought you said he was a 'hot' specimen," the man muttered, eyes darting over Farhan’s metallic complexion. "Looks like a bad DIY project with house paint.""Careful, Jax," Mariana said, not moving a muscle. "That 'paint' is denser than reinforced concrete. Don't waste your ammo."Farhan stepped out, his footfalls heavy enough to make the floorboards vibrate. "Who is this guy, Mariana? You said you weren't the ones hunting me.""I’m not. But he works for the people who w

The cold stone of the terrace floor bit into Farhan’s cheek, but the pain was distant, muffled by a sensation of growing weight that seemed to emanate from his very pores. He tried to push himself up, but his right arm, the one that had taken the brunt of the fall, felt unnervingly solid."What is this?" Farhan gasped, his voice raspy and thin.He stared at his hand in the pale moonlight. The golden glow from the previous hours had dimmed, replaced by a dull, gunmetal grey sheen that coated his skin like a layer of cooling liquid metal. He flexed his fingers. They moved with a slow, grinding resistance, sounding like two heavy stones rubbing together."Oh, come on," he muttered, his lips feeling stiff and unresponsive. "I’m not a floaty balloon anymore? Now I’m a statue? Is that it? Pick a lane, system!"[SYSTEM: MUTATION PHASE THREE: IRON BARK COMPLETED. DURABILITY INCREASED. MOBILITY DECREASED.]"Durability? Great. I can take a hit, I guess," he grunted, struggling to shift his weig

The rooftop gravel crunched beneath Farhan’s boots, but it was a hollow, distant sound, like marbles rolling on a drum. He was barely touching the surface. He felt like a buoy bobbing in a turbulent sea, his center of gravity completely untethered."No, no, no," he wheezed, his fingers clawing at the rough tar-paper of the roof. "Come on, gravity. Do your thing. Where are you? Why are you leaving me now?"[SYSTEM ALERT: PHASE TWO MUTATION DISSIPATING. GRAVITATIONAL RE-CALIBRATION INITIATING IN T-MINUS 60 SECONDS.]Farhan scrambled, his limbs flailing as he drifted three feet into the air, the wind catching his jacket and pulling him toward the open sky."Dissipating? You mean I’m about to fall? That’s your version of help?" he shrieked, his voice echoing off the ventilation ducts. "I’m on a roof! If I drop from here, I’m not just going to bruise, I’m going to be a sidewalk stain!"[SYSTEM: RE-CALIBRATION IMMINENT. SECURE ANCHOR POINT.]"Secure an anchor? With what? The air?" Farhan ki