MY TEAM WILL NEVER BETRAY ME AGAIN

Chapter 13: The Backlash of the Link

"We train," James said, his voice flat and steady against the polished mahogany of the administrator’s desk. "Harder than they do."

Deputy Director Vance narrowed his eyes, the light catching the heavy gold rings on his fingers. "Hard work is a comforting myth for people who cannot afford better technology, Carter. But we will verify every single second of your simulation data. Dismissed."

James didn't wait for Priya or Vance to speak again. He turned on his heel and walked out, the heavy oak doors sealing shut behind him with a dull, echoing thud.

Noah was leaning against the corridor wall, chewing nervously on a thumbnail. "Well? Did he buy it?"

"He doesn't have to buy it," James said, rubbing the bridge of his nose where a dull, throbbing ache had settled right behind his left eye. "He just doesn't have proof to the contrary yet."

"Yet," Ethan echoed, his expression grim as he fell into step beside James. "Which means we have about twenty-four hours before they try to pull us apart again."

"Let them try," Lena murmured, her footsteps quiet on the stone floor. "They can't prove what isn't there."

"They don't need proof if they can isolate us," Mia added, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. She glanced sideways at James, her gaze sharp and analytical. "You look like hell. And don't tell me you're fine, because I can feel your teeth grinding from here."

"I'm fine," James lied, though the world seemed to tilt slightly to the left as they rounded the corner toward the exit.

"You're not fine," Mia snapped, stopping dead in the middle of the hallway and blocking his path. "You've looked like you're about to pass out since the arena cleared. What did the link do to you this time?"

"Nothing that concerns you," James said, trying to push past her, but his legs felt suddenly hollow, like dry reeds ready to snap under the slightest weight.

"Stop right there," Noah whispered, catching James by the elbow before he could hit the floor. "Whoa, okay, he's burning up. Look at his skin."

The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to stretch and distort into long, bleeding streaks of white. James reached out to grab the wall, but his hand missed, his nervous system screaming in wordless protest as a wave of ice-cold vertigo crashed through his skull.

"Get him to the training shed," Mia commanded, her voice dropping an octave as she immediately slid her shoulder under James's right arm to take his weight. "Now. Before someone from administration walks past."

---

The private training shed smelled of old sweat, ozone, and damp concrete. It was the only place on campus the maintenance bots never cleaned thoroughly, which made it theirs by default.

James was propped up against a stack of rubberized weight mats, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. The migraine behind his eyes felt like a steel wedge being driven deeper with every beat of his heart.

"Drink this," Lena said, pressing a cool, condensation-covered bottle of water against his palm. Her fingers lingered over his wrist, checking his pulse with clinical precision. "His heart rate is through the roof. This isn't just exhaustion."

"It's the feedback," James managed to wheeze out, keeping his eyes squeezed shut against the glare of the single overhead bulb. "When we sync... when I pull all five of you into the loop at once..."

"You take the brunt of the kinetic and mental load," Mia finished for him, dropping down onto her haunches in front of him. Her eyes were fierce, burning with a dangerous mix of anger and guilt. "You're acting as the CPU for the whole team, aren't you? Every bit of fatigue, every micro-adjustment we make, it routes through your central nervous system."

"It's the only way to keep the coordination stable," James rasped, trying to pull away from her intense gaze. "If I don't anchor the flow, the feedback tears the connection apart."

"And if it tears you apart, what happens to us?" Noah demanded, pacing the length of the mat with his hands clenched into fists. "We didn't agree to be carried by a human crutch, James. If this power is going to fry your brain every time we win a match, then we stop using it right now."

"We can't stop," James said, opening his eyes with a visible effort. The room stopped spinning, settling into a harsh, grey reality. "Priya and Marcus aren't going to let this go. Vance is already looking for an excuse to strip our accreditation. If we drop the link, the first elite squad that faces us will grind us into dust."

"Then we find another way," Lena said quietly, her voice cutting through the rising panic in the room like a scalpel. She sat down beside James, her demeanor unshakeable. "You taught us how to share the burden during the simulation. You don't get to hoard the pain now just because you're the one holding the threads."

"You don't understand," James argued, his voice rising in frustration before a fresh spike of pain forced him to bite back a groan. "You can't just share a neural overload. It'll damage you, too. It'll burn out your own abilities."

"Then let us decide that for ourselves," Ethan spoke up from the doorway where he had been standing guard. He stepped forward, his massive frame blocking the dim light, his face set in stone. "You brought us together when nobody else would look at us, James. You trusted us with your failures. Trust us with your limits."

James looked around the circle of faces — Mia, Noah, Lena, Ethan. There was no pity in their eyes, only a fierce, stubborn loyalty that felt heavier and more permanent than any tactical advantage his ability could ever grant.

"If we push the link any further without restructuring the circuit," James whispered, the admission tasting like ash in his mouth, "my nervous system is going to collapse permanently. Arthur Vance... the old man in Oakhaven... that's what happened to him."

"Then we don't push it blindly," Mia said, reaching out to grab his hand, her grip unyielding. "We learn how to build a closed loop. Together. No more playing the martyr, James. You hear me?"

Before James could answer, the heavy metal door of the shed rattled violently, the electronic lock chiming a sharp, automated warning.

"Attention, unregistered cadets," a cold, automated voice echoed from the exterior security speaker. "Open the door. You are ordered to report for immediate administrative reassignment."

The room went dead silent. The threat had arrived sooner than any of them had anticipated.

Mia looked at James, her jaw tightening as she slowly stood up and flexed her fingers, a faint shimmer of displaced air warping the space around her hands. "Looks like Vance didn't want to wait twenty-four hours."

James pushed himself up against the wall, the migraine still pounding behind his temples, but the haze in his mind cleared away, replaced by a cold, sharp focus. He looked at his team, standing shoulder to shoulder in the dim, cramped shed.

"They want to reassign us?" James said, a grim smile touching the corners of his mouth as he reached out mentally, touching the five distinct threads humming quietly beneath his skin. "Let's see if they can catch us first."