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The blade bit into Mika's shoulder, cut through her jacket, and sent her screaming into the tunnel wall.
"Cade—"
"Down!"
Black-red energy tore past her ear. Cade slammed into her a second later, driving her backward as the Black Key skidded across the concrete and sparked beneath the emergency lights.
The steel door groaned shut behind them. Cade threw his palm against it. Metal sealed with a hiss, cutting off the knife-wielder—and half of Mika's scream.
She hit the floor hard, one hand clamped over her shoulder. Blood seeped between her fingers.
Cade dropped beside her. His hands hovered over the wound. "How bad?"
"A graze. I've had worse paper cuts."
"That's bleeding through your hand."
"And you're staring instead of helping."
He reached for her jacket. She slapped his hand away.
"Don't. Where does this door lead?"
"No idea. I didn't get a floor plan before your girl started throwing knives at my head."
"Not my girl. Yours."
"She was mine for six months." His mouth tightened. "Then I found out what she really was."
"Lucky you. I get the sequel."
Mika pushed herself up. Her shoulder screamed. Cade caught her arm and hauled her to her feet before her knees could give out.
Her palm landed flat against his chest.
His heartbeat slammed beneath it—fast, hard, and horribly familiar. Every beat punched through her ribs as if it belonged to her, too.
Cade looked down at her hand. "Move it."
"I know how to stand."
"Then stand faster."
She pulled away and looked past him.
The emergency lights flashed over the far wall. Under the dust and old concrete, someone had carved a message into it. The letters were jagged, rushed, and unmistakable.
Her mother's handwriting.
Mika forgot the blood running down her back.
"Mika?" Cade followed her stare. "What is it?"
"That's my mom's writing."
She took a step.
"Wait."
Cade caught her arm. His grip was warm and hard, his thumb pressing over her pulse. Her heartbeat jumped beneath it, and his answered a beat later.
"Let go."
"No."
"Cade."
"This sector's flagged. Touch restricted intel, and the system doesn't ask questions. It acts."
"She's dead. My dad's dead." Mika twisted against his grip. "There's a message from my mother on that wall, and you want me to walk away?"
"I want you alive five minutes from now. So, yeah, that's exactly what I want."
"You don't get to decide that."
"I get to decide whether I drag you away before the system kills both of us."
"Then stop holding me like a prisoner."
"Stop acting like one touch will bring your mother back."
The words hit harder than the blade.
Mika ripped her arm free. "Don't talk about her."
She crossed the space in two steps and pressed her fingers to the wall.
Blue light poured up her arm. The carved words flared gold, one letter at a time.
NEVER TRUST THE CONTRACT.
THE SYSTEM—IT WILL DEVOUR—
The final words smeared into static.
"That's it," Mika said. Her voice cracked. "That's the warning. That's what they were trying to—"
"Get away from it. Now."
Cade's arm had gone black-red. Energy rolled off his skin in hot waves. The air tasted like copper. His shoulders locked as he fought to control it.
A panel dropped from the ceiling.
Red text raced across its screen.
HOST #7742 DETECTED ACCESSING RESTRICTED INTEL.
PENALTY PROTOCOL ENGAGED.
TERMINATION IN 120 SECONDS.
HOST AND BONDED WILL BE ERASED.
Two bars appeared beneath the warning. Mika's read 76 percent. Cade's read 48—and falling.
Mika stared at the numbers. "You're draining me."
"My output is bleeding through the bond."
"Your panic is eating my bar."
"Then stop reading and move."
"I need the rest of the message."
"Finish it, and we die here."
The timer dropped to ninety seconds. Mika's bar fell to 61. Cade's hit 33.
He reached for her.
She shoved him back. "Don't touch me."
"I'm trying to keep you alive."
"You're trying to control me."
"Right now, those are the same thing."
Mika faced the wall again. "Never trust the contract. The system—it will devour—"
"Stop!"
Cade lunged. His arm locked around her waist and pulled her off the message.
The timer dropped to seventy seconds.
Mika's bar hit 51. Cade's fell to 23.
She grabbed his wrist instead of fighting his hold. Gold flashed from her palm. A thin chain snapped around his forearm, bright as wire and hot against her skin.
Cade froze. "What the hell did you just do?"
"Made a deal."
"You can't make a contract down here."
"I'm not using the system. I'm using me." Mika tightened her grip. "I cap your output. You shield my retreat. No draining. No dragging me away."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then your panic burns through both bars before you can stop me."
He looked at the chain, then at her. His breath brushed her cheek. Heat still rolled off him, trapped beneath the gold links.
"You planned that?"
"I planned not to die because you can't keep your power under control."
His jaw flexed.
The timer reached forty seconds. Mika's bar held at 36. Cade's stopped at 8.
"Fine," he said. "Deal."
The chain tightened once, as if it understood him.
Mika turned back toward the wall.
"No."
"I can finish three words."
"You can finish three words while the system turns your bones into data."
"You don't know what it does."
"I know what it does to people who touch things they don't understand."
"So do I."
That stopped him for half a second.
Mika stepped closer to the wall. Cade followed, close enough that his chest nearly brushed her back. His breath warmed the side of her neck.
"Ten seconds," he said, low against her ear. "If you don't move, I'll carry you."
"Try it, and I'll break the chain."
"You can't break it without taking my output back."
"Then behave."
The countdown hit ten.
Mika reached for the last unburned letters.
Cade caught her wrist.
"Don't."
"Let go."
"Look at me."
She did.
His eyes were bright with the same black-red light crawling beneath his skin. His fingers circled her wrist, careful now, but his pulse beat against her palm where the chain connected them.
"If you disappear," he said, "I go with you."
"Then stay close."
The countdown hit three.
The ceiling cracked. Dust dropped in a thick sheet. Cade wrapped an arm around her ribs and dragged her into the mouth of a side tunnel as the main chamber exploded with white light.
The panel flashed red.
One final line stamped across it.
DEVOUR HOST.
For a moment, there was only ringing in Mika's ears and Cade's breath against her hair.
Then he spoke.
"Your mother was killed by contract backlash."
Mika's stomach twisted. "You don't know that."
"The wall just told the system. On record."
She looked down at her hand.
Her fingertips were turning transparent.
Not fading. Erasing.
The edges blurred into the dark, one knuckle at a time.
Cade saw it and reached for her. His fingers stopped half an inch from her wrist, suspended in the space between them.
"Mika," he said, his voice breaking. "Don't let the system—"