I never saw the attack coming. One moment I was logging off after a late-night coding session, the next—my screen froze. A cursor blinked like a heartbeat. Then the words formed: 'You’re in my game now. No shutdown. No escape. Just choices. Make the wrong one, and your heart stops.'

My pulse spiked. I tore at the neural band around my temple—the sleek black ring everyone wears now for seamless tech access. It wouldn’t budge. Locked. Active.

A countdown appeared: 60 seconds to first decision.

Three options glowed beneath it:

Play the game. Follow the rules. Survive—for now.

Fight back. Try to reverse-trace the signal. Risk immediate cardiac lockout.

Or… accept the incoming invite from an unknown player named Echo. Alliance means shared risk. Could be salvation. Could be suicide.

The timer hit 10.

I had to choose.