Elias opened his eyes. They were the same soft brown, not the cold blue of factory reset. He looked at Mira. Blinked.

She laughed, tears cutting through the grime on her face. “Yeah, Eli. We won.”

He’d never seen a miracle in code before.

Mira gripped his hand—warm metal, warm heart. “It took just fine.”

“The specs are written by people who’ve never seen a J-series seize on the operating table.” Holt swallowed. “It’s a coin flip, ma’am. Heads, he wakes up whole. Tails, you get a screaming shell that thinks it’s on fire forever.”

She knew the risk. But Elias had pulled her from a sinking transport. He’d told her bad jokes about oil changes. He’d cried once, privately, about a dream he had—a garden he’d never seen.

“Did we win?” he asked, his voice a cracked whisper.