Chapter 10 · The Blood Map

The bracelet was still warm in my palm. Felix's voice kept looping in my head. Don't trust Marcus.

Marcus hadn't let go of my wrist. His grip was careful, clinical, like he was holding a cracked pipe that might blow. My blood had stopped dripping but the cut still burned. The alley behind us was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that meant someone was deciding whether to run or pounce.

"Let go," I said.

He did. Stepped back, hands up, palms out. The same way you'd back off from a spooked animal.

"Your brother's smart," Marcus said. "But he doesn't know what I know."

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"That you've got maybe six hours before your blood eats you from the inside out."

I barked out a laugh. It came out wrong, sharp and bitter. "That's your play? Scare me into listening?"

"It's not a play." He tilted his head toward the main street. Voices drifted over, coppers doing their rounds. "Your blood opened a rift tonight. You felt it, right? The pull. Like something on the other side recognized you."

I had.