Chapter 10 · The Price of Pain

"So that's the plan? You kill me, the world resets, and you play the hero again?"

Mara’s voice was a blade. Cold. Precise. She didn't move her hand from the hilt of her knife, but her knuckles were white.

Rowan backed away, boots scraping the grit of the subway floor. His head was still throbbing from the memory fragment—that jagged, ugly piece of a past that told him he was a monster.

"I didn't choose that command, Mara. It was... a directive. From the previous versions of me."

"Versions of you," she spat.

She moved in a heartbeat. Before he could blink, she slammed him against the tiled wall. The impact knocked the air out of his lungs in a wet wheeze. Her forearm pressed hard against his throat, pinning him.

"You're talking like you're some different person. You're the one who burned the Outer Districts. You decided thousands of lives were a fair price for a few more hours of time."

Rowan gasped, clawing at her arm. "I don't remember it! I swear, I don't—"

"That's the problem, isn't it?" Mara leaned in.