doubt you do. In another few weeks, Ben won’t even be able to use the braces.” Dylan’s voice cracked.
Shock and denial pierced her chest. “What do you mean? He seems to handle the braces just fine.”
“Once the nerve damage progresses by another ten percent, he won’t be able to move his legs at all. The braces will be useless, and my son will be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life.”
Her heart squeezed painfully. “But I thought the interface—”
His anguished gaze answered her. Must have viable muscle and nerve. Not even Stryker’s genius could stop the damage from becoming permanent.
She had a fleeting vision of that vital, healthy little boy stuck in a wheelchair, the cold metal sucking the life out of him. Trapped as surely as if he were buried alive.
Nausea swirled through her and a trickle of sweat slid down the back of her neck.
Dylan gripped her arm. “Can you do it?” His eyes glittered in the dim night. “Can you hold the hacker at bay until I finish the prototype? It’s Ben’s only chance to be normal.”
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