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The LCD screen changed one last time:
He didn't tell her about the soul-bond. Or that the cutter's hum now felt less like machinery and more like a purr. As he went to bed, he could have sworn he heard it whisper one last thing, a soft sibilance under the hum of the refrigerator:
"I am a professional," Leo muttered, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. The kitchen smelled of burnt coffee and desperation. Mira had long since retreated to the bedroom with a novel and a sympathetic wince.
"Yeah," he said, forcing a smile. "I installed the driver."
