Chapter 8 · The Price of Remembering

"Step back, Rowan. One more inch and I'll put a blade through your throat."

Mara didn't just have the knife out. She had it pressed into the soft skin of his neck. Cold steel. Hard pressure. One twitch and he'd be painting the floor red.

Rowan didn't move. He couldn't. The air in the archives was thick, like breathing wet wool.

"I didn't know," he whispered. He tried to catch her eyes. "I swear to God, Mara. I didn't know about your father."

"You didn't know?"

She shoved him. Hard. His back slammed into a metal filing cabinet with a crash that echoed through the hollow room. She was in his space now. Chest heaving. He could smell ozone and old paper on her skin.

"You triggered the first return," she spat, her face inches from his. "You burned the world just to see if you could. My father was in the blast zone, and you just... reset. Like he was a glitch in your game."

Rowan reached out, his fingers grazing her wrist. "I was desperate. I was trying to save—"

"Save what? Yourself?"

Mara twisted her arm, slapping his hand away.