Chapter 2

"What the hell is that?" I choked out, nodding toward the rift.

"That," Mara said, pressing the blade deeper, "is exactly why you're gonna tell me where the anchor is. Now. Before I decide your tongue is redundant."

I tried to swallow. My throat was a desert.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Anchor? What anchor?"

She scoffed. A sharp, jagged sound. "Stop lying, Rowan. I've watched you die twelve times. Twelve. I've seen you beg, I've seen you run, and I've seen you try to bargain with things that don't have ears. You don't get to play the amnesiac now that we're on the final lap."

I blinked. "Twelve times? I... I remember a coin. I remember dying. But twelve?"

"Of course you don't," she spat.

She shifted her weight, her thigh pinning me hard against the damp concrete wall. I could feel the heat radiating off her, a stark contrast to the freezing draft screaming from the rift.

"Every time you reset, you trade a piece of your head for a new trick. You're a leaking bucket, Rowan. Pretty soon, there won't be enough of you left to remember how to breathe."

I looked at the coin embedded in my palm. It was pulsing. In sync with the rift.

"If I'm a bucket, then you're the one holding the leak," I countered. "You remember everything?"

"Lucky me," she whispered.

She leaned in. Her breath smelled of mint and something metallic. Her eyes scanned my face, searching for a flinch, a tell—anything. "Which is why I know you're the only thing in this city that can actually see where the breaches are opening. Without you, I'm hunting blind. With you... I can actually end this."

"And what's in it for me?" I asked, my voice regaining its edge. "Besides not getting stabbed?"

Mara's lips curled. The smirk didn't reach her eyes. "You get to live. For another thirteen hours, at least. Unless you'd rather see what's coming through that door."

*Squelch.*

Something wet and heavy dragged across glass inside the rift. The red light flared. A low, guttural vibration shook the floor beneath our boots.

"It's coming," I whispered. "Mara, it's right there."

"Then give me a reason to protect you," she snapped.

She didn't pull the knife away. Instead, she used the flat of the blade to tilt my chin up. "The demon mark on my arm lets me kill the things inside the rift, but I can't find the heart without a Seer. You're a Seer, Rowan. A broken, pathetic one, but you'll do."

I looked at her forearm. Through the ripped sleeve of her gear, a black, swirling tattoo writhed under her skin. It wasn't ink. It was alive. The mark pulsed with a dark, oppressive energy that made the hair on my arms stand up.

"I can't just 'see' it," I argued, trying to shift. "It's a feeling. Pressure in the back of my skull. I don't know how to guide you."

"Then I'll make it simple."

Mara dropped the knife. Before I could even breathe, she grabbed my wrist and slammed my hand against the wall. Her grip was iron.

"You guide me to the heart, we seal the breach, and I might actually let you walk away. If you lie, if you lead me into a trap... I will spend the next twelve hours making sure you regret every single return."

I winced, my palm throbbing. "You're really not a people person, are you?"

"I'm a hunter, Rowan. People are just targets that talk too much."

She leaned in. Face inches from mine. The aggression flickered, replaced by a raw, desperate tension. I could see the tiny gold flecks in her irises. The way her pulse jumped in her neck. The air between us felt thick, charged with something more than just the rift's energy.

I could have pushed her. I could have tripped her. But the way she looked at me—like I was a puzzle she hated but couldn't stop solving—kept me frozen.

"Fine," I breathed. "But I need something first."

"You're in no position to negotiate," she said. She didn't pull away.

"I can see the breach," I dropped my voice. "But I can't survive the infection zones. The air eats you alive. You have the mark. You can shield me. If you want me to be your compass, you have to be my armor."

Mara paused. Her gaze dropped to my chest, then back to my eyes.

"You want me to link with you? That's not a shield, Rowan. That's a leash."

"I'm already on a leash," I countered, gesturing to the knife on the floor and the monster in the rift. "At least this way, we both stay alive."

She stared at me. The silence stretched until the sliding noise from the rift became a roar. Something was pressing against the veil, a massive weight that made the concrete walls crack.

"Fine," she hissed. "But the moment you slip, I'm cutting the link and leaving you for the crows."

She didn't wait. Mara grabbed my hand—palm hot and rough—and slammed it against the black mark on her arm.

Electric shock. Straight into my marrow. Searing heat surged from her skin into mine, and the coin in my palm flared a blinding, violent red. I gasped, my back arching as a chain of black light snapped into existence, shackling my wrist to her forearm.

"What did you—"

My vision shifted. The world didn't just look red anymore; it looked layered. I could see the rift, but I could also see veins of energy running through the tunnel walls, leading deep into the earth.

And I could see Mara. Not just her body, but a golden thread connecting her heart to mine.

"The link is set," she whispered, her voice strained. She looked at the shackle with a mix of disgust and fascination. "Now, move. Before that thing decides we're appetizers."

We moved. My shoulder brushed hers as we navigated the debris. The tension had changed. It wasn't just the threat of death; it was the physical pull. Every time she accelerated, I felt a tug in my chest. Every time I hesitated, she yanked me forward with a grunt.

"Stop lagging," she snapped, her hand gripping the back of my jacket. "The breach is just past the ventilation shaft."

"I'm trying!" I snapped back. "It's not exactly a stroll when I can feel your heartbeat in my own ribs!"

"Get used to it," she replied, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "You're my property for the next thirteen hours."

We reached the shaft. A massive iron grate hung crookedly from the ceiling. The red light was blinding, the air shimmering with heat. I stopped dead. The pressure in my skull spiked—a warning so loud it felt like a scream.

"Wait," I whispered. "Something's wrong."

"Wrong?" Mara stepped up beside me, blade already out. "What's wrong?"

I looked down. The floor wasn't concrete anymore. It was translucent, like dark glass. And beneath the glass, something was staring back.

Not a monster. Not a demon.

A reflection. But it wasn't mine.

I saw Mara. But in the reflection, she wasn't standing next to me. She was lying on the ground, eyes wide and lifeless, blood pooling around her head in a perfect, silent circle.

"Mara," I said, my voice trembling. "Look down."

She didn't look. She reached for my arm to pull me forward, but as her fingers closed around my wrist, the glass beneath us shattered with a sound like a thousand gunshots.

We didn't fall. We were pulled.

As the darkness swallowed us, the link between us flared one last time. A voice—cold, ancient, and sounding far too much like my own—whispered directly into my mind:

"The thirteenth return always ends with a sacrifice. Tell me, Rowan... who dies first?"