Chapter 11 · The Price of Mercy

"Don't touch it!"

Mara’s hand clamped onto Rowan’s wrist, her grip tight enough to snap bone. She shoved him back against the scorched concrete, the impact knocking the wind out of his lungs.

"You don't get to play the hero," she hissed, leaning in until they were inches apart. Her eyes glittered with a hatred that felt almost intimate. "Not after what you did to this place."

Rowan gasped, chest heaving. Because of the bond, Mara winced, her own lungs tightening in sync with his.

"I'm not playing," Rowan rasped. He looked past her at the memory node—a jagged shard of obsidian embedded in the ruin. It was bleeding a ghostly light, humming with a cold, electric current that made the hair on his arms stand up. "The data's in there. If we don't pull the record now, the loop closes without the key."

"The key to what? More bodies?" Mara didn't let go. She pinned him firmly against the debris, her voice a dangerous vibrate. "Tell me, Rowan. Did you enjoy it? Watching the fires start?"

"I don't remember the fire, Mara. That's the point. I remember the choice."

"Then tell me the choice!" she demanded.