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Mika's fingers closed around the chip—and the alarm hit two seconds later.
Red light washed over the server rack. A voice came through the walls, flat and calm. "Unauthorized access. Sector Seven. Lockdown in ten seconds."
"Ten seconds," Mika muttered. "Great. Love that."
The chip was small, black, and still warm from her mother's old server rack—the one nobody was supposed to have a key to anymore. Three months of bribing a records clerk and dodging one ugly hallway camera had gotten her this far. She wasn't leaving it behind for a countdown.
She ran for the vent shaft she'd already scouted. It was an arm's length away.
A hand closed over her shoulder from behind, and she nearly ate the floor.
"Drop the chip."
She knew that voice. Everyone at the Academy knew it. Cade Reth, the golden boy of Combat Division. S-rank. The one person standing between her and the only exit left.
"Let go of me, Cade."
"Drop it first."
"It's mine."
"It's Academy property. And you're not supposed to be down here at—" He checked something on a HUD only he could see. "—two in the morning. Drop it."
She didn't.
Mika spun with the chip still trapped in her fist. Mistake one.
Cade Reth didn't grab slowly. One second he was three feet away. The next, his hand locked around her wrist. His grip wasn't bruising yet. It was worse than that—absolute, like a door slamming shut.
He stood close enough for heat to press through her sleeve. His eyes had left the chip. They were on her.
"Give it here," he said. "I forget I saw a C-rank support wandering restricted archives at two a.m."
"No."
"Mika—"
"It's my mother's. She's dead. This is the only thing of hers I've got left, so no, you don't get to forget you saw it. You get to let go of my hand."
She should've pulled free first. She didn't. She held on, the chip caught between both their palms.
Mistake two.
Something under her skin woke up.
Gold light shot up her arm like a wire pulled tight. It leaped straight into him, and Cade's whole body locked.
"What the fuck did you do?"
The light burned a thin gold seam down both their forearms, stitching itself through the air between their skin. Then it sank in and vanished.
Behind the wall, the countdown passed zero. A second alarm kicked in, low and mechanical. Outer doors began sealing one after another.
Mika yanked her hand back. Her palm buzzed.
"Anchor bloodline," she said, breath catching. "I just tied myself to you."
"You what?"
"It wasn't on purpose. It's a reflex. My line does it under enough contact and enough load. It's called a Bond. I read about it. I never thought it would actually—"
"You know what a Bond is?" His voice went flat. Flat from Cade was worse than yelling. "You die, I die. That's the whole deal. You just made my life depend on a records thief."
"I made my life depend on an S-rank with a god complex. We're even."
"We're not even."
He stepped back like she was contagious and flexed his hand. The distance barely helped. She could still feel the heat of him in her wrist.
"This gets cut. Now. There has to be a way."
"There isn't. Not fast, not tonight. If you rip it out wrong, we both drop."
She lifted the chip between them. The gold had faded, but her pulse still hammered against the burn.
"So here's the deal. You want to live past sunrise, you keep me alive. That's your job now."
"My family wants you dead, Lin. You get that? The second they hear an Anchor bonded into me—no contract, no screening, no say from them—I can't protect that. I can't protect you."
"Then don't. Just don't get yourself killed, because I'm not dying for your family's paperwork."
She backed toward the vent. The chip stayed in her fist. His grip still burned on her wrist.
"Anchor blood keeps fighters standing," she said. "It heals them. It holds them together when they should already be dead on the floor. You need me a hell of a lot more than you want to admit."
The door behind Cade blew open.
"Cade."
Anna Vess stood in the frame. B-rank Psychic. Silver Academy pin. A gun held so steadily it looked like part of her hand.
Her eyes moved from Cade to Mika, then to the faint gold burns glowing on both their wrists. Whatever softness she wore for cameras fell off her face.
"Anna, this isn't—"
"Don't." Her voice cracked like a slap. "Don't tell me this isn't what it looks like. I felt that light from the east wing. I ran here thinking you were dying."
Her chin jerked toward Mika without granting her a name.
"And instead I find her."
"Anna, put the gun down."
"Support-class trash bonded into the top rookie in the division." Her laugh held no warmth. "You think I don't know what that does to your family's contract with mine?"
"I've heard enough."
Anna raised the gun. Not at Cade. Past him, straight at Mika.
Mika's body went cold and still, bracing for an impact it couldn't survive.
"Anna—"
"You break the Bond," Anna said, almost gently, "you kill him quick and clean. It goes away with her."
Cade moved between them so fast the air cracked.
"Get behind me," he said. He didn't look back. Every line of him had gone hard and ready. "Now."
"Cade, move." Anna's finger tightened on the trigger. The muzzle was inches from his chest now, not Mika's. "I'm not asking twice."
"I'm not moving."
Her mouth curled. Something ugly settled behind her eyes.
"Wrong answer."
The gun barked once. White muzzle flare filled the dark, and Cade was already gone from where he'd been standing—