Liam had no idea what was happening inside Noah's head.

  And that terrified him more than the Brain Bug.

  Sure, Noah had cut him free. Sure, they were technically allies. But how long until the man wearing Noah's face decided Liam was the enemy? How long until that scalpel found his kidney instead of the silk bindings?

  Trusting him is like hugging a grenade, Liam thought. Sooner or later, something's gonna blow.

  "Last one," Noah muttered, severing the final strand of webbing from Liam's chest.

  Liam tried to stand. His legs—numb from hours of being dragged across concrete—folded like wet cardboard. He hit the stone floor hard, cursing.

  "Take your time," Noah said, already turning to peer down one of the tunnels. "We've got... what, three hours? Four? Hard to tell without a watch."

  Liam massaged feeling back into his limbs, working the circulation through muscles that felt like dead wood. Ten minutes passed before he could trust his feet again. When he finally stood, the chamber spun drunkenly before settling into focus.

  They were in the Bug's dining room. That much was obvious.

  The space was wrong—too clean, too deliberate for a monster's lair. Smooth stone floors swept clean of debris. Multiple ventilation shafts carved into the ceiling, drawing fresh air from somewhere deep in the earth. The air tasted of minerals and something else, something organic and sweet.

  It keeps this place nice, Liam realized with a chill. For us. For its food.

  Twelve tunnels branched off from the central chamber like spokes on a wheel. Liam recognized only one—the route the ants had used to bring him here. The others vanished into darkness, promising unknown depths, unknown horrors.

  "Noah." Liam sank back to the floor, studying his unpredictable companion. "How sure are you? About the other bugs running when we kill this thing?"

  Noah turned from his surveillance. In the blue glow of the Lightbulb Bugs, his face looked carved from marble—beautiful and empty. "One hundred percent."

  "Walk me through it."

  Liam needed to understand the logic. Needed to know if he was following a genius or a madman off a cliff. Because when Noah's personality shifted, something fundamental changed—not just his mannerisms, but his cognition. The frightened survivor became something else entirely. Cold. Analytical. Seeing patterns Liam couldn't perceive.

  Noah held up three fingers. "First—the behavioral parallels to fictional Brain Bugs are too consistent to be coincidence. Second—our host is taxonomically distinct from the insects it commands. Different phylum, different evolutionary path. It's using them, not leading them." He lowered one finger. "Third—it never physically interacts with its minions. No grooming, no feeding, no tactile communication. Everything is at range."

  "Meaning?"

  "Meaning telepathic control. Psychic domination." Noah's eyes gleamed with terrible certainty. "And tell me, Liam—how loyal do you think a slave feels toward its master?"

  Liam snorted. "That's a hell of a lot of speculation."

  The temperature in the chamber seemed to drop.

  Noah's face twisted—not with anger, but with something older. Something cruel. His posture shifted, shoulders squaring, chin lifting with aristocratic arrogance. When he spoke, his voice had dropped an octave, carrying the weight of absolute authority.

  "You question me?"

  Liam tensed, recognizing the signs. Not Noah anymore. Someone else.

  "You dare doubt my word? You insignificant worm—do you know what I do to those who defy me?" Noah—whoever he was now—brandished the scalpel like a royal scepter. "I could flay you alive. I could make you beg for the Brain Bug's mercy before I finished with you."

  Liam rose slowly, hands visible, non-threatening. "Hey. Easy. What's your name, friend?"

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  "Friend?" The thing wearing Noah sneered. "I have no friends. Only subjects and corpses. You will address me as—"

  But Liam had stopped listening. He was calculating. Assessing.

  This personality was violent, unpredictable, dangerous. But also fragile—Liam could see it in the way he held the blade too high, too dramatically. Theater, not technique. Posturing, not confidence.

  He's a coward playing at being a tyrant, Liam realized. All bark, no bite.

  The smart play would be to end this now. Take the scalpel, put Noah down before he became an active threat. Liam's hands itched with the knowledge of how easy it would be.

  But Noah had freed him. Had shared his plan, his secrets. However broken his mind, however many personalities crowded inside his skull, the original Noah had chosen to trust Liam.

  I'm not a murderer. Not yet.

  So Liam waited. Let the rant run its course. Watched as Noah's body jerked again—another transition, another consciousness surfacing from the depths.

  When the eyes opened this time, they were clear. Polite. Terrified.

  "Excuse me." Noah's voice was soft, almost British in its formality. "Might I sit with you? This body is... unfamiliar. Difficult to control."

  Liam nodded, gesturing to the stone beside him. "Be my guest."

  "Thank you." Noah settled cross-legged, arranging his limbs with precise, deliberate movements. "I must apologize. The others—they're fragments, you understand. Splinters of personality created by the infection. I am... I was... the original."

  "And you are?"

  Noah smiled, and it was the smile of someone who had looked into the abyss and found it looking back.

  “You may call me Reed.”Liam's stomach dropped through the floor.Not a good sign. The guy was cosplaying a fictional villain.

  As in the anime-obsessed nerd who thinks he's a god.

  "Let me guess," Liam said, his voice flat. "You don't have a notebook. And you're not planning to write my name in anything."

  "Perceptive." Light—Noah—whoever—studied the scalpel with academic interest. "You're physically superior. We're in immediate mortal danger. Your continued existence serves my interests better than your death." He looked up, smile widening. "For now."

  For now.

  Liam leaned his head back against the stone and laughed—one harsh, broken note. He was trapped in a monster's lair, waiting to be brain-sucked to death, and his only ally was a dissociative nerd cosplaying as a fictional serial killer.

  This is my life. This is actually my life.

  He closed his eyes, forcing his breathing steady. Starship Troopers. He needed to remember Starship Troopers. The movie, the book, whatever fragments he could recall about Brain Bug behavior. Weaknesses. Vulnerabilities.

  Because when the time came, Liam couldn't rely on Noah. However many personalities lived in that fractured skull, they were all unreliable. All prone to collapse when pressure mounted.

  I'm on my own. I always was.

  Hours passed in silence. The blue light of the beetles never wavered, but Liam's internal clock told him evening approached. Dinner time.

  "We should resume positions," Light said, rising with fluid grace. "The creature will expect its meal to be... compliant."

  He moved to his former spot, wrapping himself in the severed silk with practiced efficiency. Within minutes, he looked exactly as he had when the ants deposited him—bound, helpless, waiting.

  Liam followed suit, arranging his own cocoon. The silk was loose enough to allow movement, tight enough to pass inspection. He settled into the performance of vulnerability, heart hammering against his ribs.

  Soon. It's coming soon.

  The slithering sound announced the Brain Bug's arrival. Liam forced his breathing shallow, his muscles slack, playing the role of terrified prey to perfection.

  The monster emerged from the darkness, its bloated form casting grotesque shadows across the chamber. It moved to the nearest survivor—a woman who had been catatonic for hours—and began its feeding ritual.

  Liam didn't watch. Couldn't watch. He focused on the stone beneath him, the silk against his skin, the slow count of his own heartbeat.

  One. Two. Three...

  The screaming started. Stopped.

  Started again with a new voice.

  Then silence.

  The Brain Bug retreated, sated for now. Liam cracked one eyelid, confirming the count. Two victims. Two meals consumed.

  Which meant the next feeding would be the midnight snack.

  Noah and me. Or what's left of him.

  "Rest," whispered a voice from nearby. Light had vanished; this was someone else, someone urgent and afraid. "Save your strength. When I move, you move. No hesitation."

  Liam nodded minutely, keeping his eyes closed. The adrenaline crash hit hard—hours of terror finally taking their toll. His thoughts grew fuzzy, fragmented.

  Just a few minutes. Just need to rest my eyes...

  He dreamed of red skies and running. Of teeth and silk and eyes that glowed yellow in the dark.

  He dreamed of dying.

  The screaming woke him.

  Liam's eyes snapped open, reality crashing in with horrific clarity. He tried to shout, managed only a strangled gasp.

  The Brain Bug had Noah.

  Not in position. Not ready. The idiot had fallen asleep—they'd both fallen asleep—and now the monster had him, proboscis buried deep in his forehead, feeding with wet, greedy sounds.

  "No—" Liam thrashed against his bindings, but he'd wrapped them too well, too convincingly. "No, no, shit!"

  Noah's body convulsed, heels drumming against stone. His eyes rolled toward Liam, wide and aware and screaming without sound.

  Then they went empty.

  The Brain Bug withdrew its feeding tube, satisfied, and began its slow turn toward Liam.

  Toward dessert.