Greg woke up feeling trapped, which was becoming a strange and familiar feeling.
Marina's arm was across his chest, and she was breathing slowly and evenly. Lylia's head rested on his prosthetic arm, and for the first time since he got it, the weight didn't hurt.
The golden circuits in the limb pulsed with each breath she took, as if they were responding to her. Greg lay there for a moment, watching the early morning light come through the window of their shared bedroom.
He let himself feel something he had been afraid to admit.
Happiness.
It had been three days since they got back from Meridian. Three days of this new normal: waking up between two women he loved, having breakfast with the Brotherhood, and spending the evenings in comfort at home.
It was everything he had hoped for when he was reborn and chose peace over war.
