Chapter 11 · Pulse of the Dead

"Don't move. Not a single inch," Elias hissed.

His hand clamped onto my shoulder, slamming me back against the rusted bulkhead. I gasped, the air tasting like ozone and twenty years of stagnant dust. Above us, red sensor beams swept the floor in a rhythmic, predatory crawl.

One touch and we weren't just arrested. We were vaporized.

"What the hell is that?" I whispered. "I thought this place was dead."

"Pulse-defense grid," Elias muttered. He didn't let go. His palm was hot through my thin shirt, pinning me tight. "It doesn't look for people. It looks for neural signatures. And since we're bonded, we're broadcasting like a damn flare in a dark room."

I tried to shift, but a spike of static shot through my skull. The bond flared—a sharp, blooming heat in my chest that mirrored his own heart rate.

He felt it too. His breathing hitched. His chest pressed firmly against my back, leaving no room to breathe.

"Stop twitching, Nora," he commanded. His voice dropped an octave, vibrating right against my ear. "If the grid reads our combined pulse as an attack, it triggers the failsafe. We'll be dead before we hit the floor.