"That was the plan."
"You keep saying that."
"Maybe listen this time."
The black ring on my wrist pulsed again. This time the pain ran through Dax first. His breath broke, and his fingers closed around mine.
I saw the black vow flare under his skin.
A symbol appeared in the center of the knot.
Not a Bureau seal.
A doorway.
Nine thin bars. One missing hinge.
My throat went tight.
"What is that?" Dax asked.
"You tell me."
"I've never seen it."
"You're lying again."
"Mara, I swear—"
The vow reacted to the word.
Black fire raced from his chest to his throat. Dax dropped to one knee, still holding my hand. The shelves shook. Every jar on the wall chimed at once.
I moved before I could think.
"Don't swear."
"I wasn't—"
"Don't use that word!"
I grabbed the red thread and wrapped it around his wrist. Then I yanked the mirror shard free and drove its edge into the floor between us.
The workshop erupted with white light.
Dax's grip broke.
He fell sideways. I caught his shoulder and lowered him hard against the cabinet. His head missed the corner by an inch.
"Stay with me," I said.
"Bossy."
"You're welcome."
"You always save people you hate?"
"Only when they die loudly."
"Good. I was worried I'd have to ask nicely again."
The light snapped out.
The wound in his chest had stopped bleeding, but the black knot remained. Worse, the edges had spread toward his ribs.
I grabbed a tin of salt ash and poured a line around him.
Dax watched me work. "That won't hold."
"It only needs to hold for five minutes."
"What happens after five minutes?"
"You die."
"You could lie once in a while."
"I could. But then you might relax."
He tried to stand.
I shoved him back down.
"Don't."
"The Bureau knows where I am."
"Then your Bureau can come collect your body."
"They won't collect mine. They'll collect yours."
A sharp crack sounded from outside.
Dax's head turned toward the boarded window.
Another crack.
Not thunder. Not wood settling.
A signal knock.
Three hits. Pause. Two hits.
His hand went for the pistol beneath the bench.
I kicked it farther away.
"Hey."
"Agents."
"You brought them here?"
"They followed me."
"Of course they did. Why wouldn't tonight get worse?"
"How many exits?"
"One door. One window. A chimney too narrow for your shoulders."
"For yours?"
"I'm not leaving you."
He looked at me.
I hated the way that landed between us. Too direct. Too close to concern.
"Don't mistake practical work for kindness," I said.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
A voice called from outside.
"Mara Venn! Step away from the enforcer and open the door!"
Dax's face changed. The pain stayed, but the hard officer mask slid over it.
"Who's that?" I asked.
"Evelyn Thorne. Bureau investigator."
"The one who called me a public hazard?"
"That's her."
"She sounds charming."
"She'll shoot through the door."
"Then stop letting people find us."
"Us?"
"The black ring says we're a package deal."
The ring tightened like a wire.
Dax looked down at my wrist. "It's spreading."
"I noticed."
"If the Bureau gets inside, they can use the link to force your surrender."
"Can they break it?"
"No."
"Can they kill me through it?"
He hesitated.
"Dax."
"Yes."
"Wonderful."
"They can kill me too."
"That is not comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be."
He pushed himself up again. This time his knees held. Barely.
I grabbed his shirt and shoved him against the cabinet.
His shoulders hit wood. My fist stayed twisted in the fabric near his collar. His face ended up inches from mine.
"You don't get to collapse until I say so."
His breath moved across my cheek. "You're very good at giving orders for someone with a price on her head."
"You're very good at standing for a man whose heart is being eaten."
"I have practice."
"Don't make jokes."
"Then stop looking at me like you're trying to decide whether to kiss me or stab me."
My fingers tightened in his shirt.
"I already decided."
"And?"
"The knife is still in the door."
His gaze dropped to my mouth again.
Outside, Evelyn shouted, "Dax! Answer me!"
He didn't look away from me.
"Tell her I'm dead," he murmured.
"She'll come in faster."
"Tell her I'm holding you hostage."
"She'll burn down the building."
"She won't if she thinks you're inside."
"You want her to think I'm your hostage?"
"I want her to hesitate."
"And what do you want me to do? Scream?"
"Can you?"
I slapped him.
His head turned with the impact. He slowly faced me again.
"That answer your question?"
A dangerous smile pulled at one corner of his mouth.
"A little."
"Don't enjoy this."
"You're the one holding my shirt."
I released him like the cloth had burned me.
Dax caught my hand before it dropped. His thumb pressed once against my knuckles.
"Mara."
The way he said my name made the room feel smaller again.
"What?"
"When the door opens, stay behind me."
"You can barely stay upright."
"I can still put a bullet through someone."
"You mean you can still miss someone."
"You want to test that?"
"Not with my skull."
"Then listen."
The pounding stopped.
No more shouting.
No more signal knocks.
Dax released my hand and reached for the gun. I let him take it this time.
He stepped in front of me, blocking the door with his body. His coat lay abandoned on the floor, his shirt open at the wound, the black lines crawling beneath his skin.
"Why are you protecting me?" I asked.
"I'm not."
"You're standing between me and an armed Bureau investigator."
"I'm standing between her and the oath."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
"You came here to arrest me."
"I changed my mind."
"Why?"
His fingers tightened around the pistol.
"Because the order was wrong."
"What does that mean?"
"It means your name wasn't supposed to be on it."
"But it was."
"Someone added it after I signed."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it keeps being true."
The black ring around my wrist burned.
Dax bent slightly, one hand pressing his chest. I reached for him, then stopped myself.
He noticed the hesitation.
"Go ahead," he said. "You can touch me. I won't tell anyone."
"I wasn't going to."
"You were."
"You don't know what I was going to do."