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The council hall smelled like old money and older lies.
I stood next to Kane in the doorway, my paramedic jacket swapped for a borrowed black coat that didn't fit right. The marble floor stretched out in front of us, polished so clean I could see my reflection looking back—pale, tired, way too young to be walking into a room full of people who could erase me with a signature.
Kane's hand brushed mine. Not holding it. Just reminding me he was there.
"Stay close," he said, voice low. "Don't speak unless they address you directly."
"What if they ask about the marriage?"
"Then you tell them the truth." His jaw tightened. "That you're my wife."
The word still felt like a foreign object in my mouth. Wife. We'd signed papers two nights ago in Nora's clinic, witnessed by a half-drunk notary who didn't ask questions. No white dress. No vows. Just a contract that tied me to a man the council wanted dead.
A man whose curse I'd seen carved into his chest by my own mother.
I swallowed the nausea rising in my throat and followed Kane inside.
The council sat in a half-circle at the far end of the hall, seven chairs on a raised platform like some kind of twisted courtroom. I recognized a few faces from the news—older money, the kind that funded hospitals and owned half the city's real estate. They wore suits that probably cost more than my annual rent.
The woman in the center chair leaned forward. She had silver hair pulled back so tight it looked painful, and eyes that tracked Kane like a hawk watching a rabbit.
"Kane Rook," she said. Not a greeting. An accusation.
"Councilor Voss." Kane stopped ten feet from the platform. I stayed half a step behind him, hands shoved in my coat pockets so no one would see them shaking.
Voss's gaze flicked to me. "And you brought a guest."
"My wife," Kane said. Flat. No room for argument.
A ripple went through the council. One of the men on the left—bald, with a scar across his temple—laughed. It wasn't a nice sound.
"Your wife," he repeated. "You show up after eight years, dragging shadows through our streets, and you expect us to believe you've settled down?"
"I don't expect you to believe anything," Kane said. "I'm here because you summoned me. So let's skip the theater and get to the point."
Voss raised one hand. The room went silent.
"The point," she said slowly, "is that you are a threat. The beasts follow you. People are dying. And now you've bound yourself to some paramedic with no lineage, no clearance, no—"
"Careful," Kane said, and his voice dropped into something darker. The temperature in the room seemed to fall with it.
Voss smiled. It didn't reach her eyes.
"Proof," she said. "That's all we want, Kane. Proof that you're still in control. That you haven't become the monster your father tried to cage."
"What kind of proof?"
She gestured, and two guards stepped out from the shadows behind the platform. They moved toward Kane, hands on the hilts of blades that glowed faint blue in the dim light.
Blessed steel. I'd seen it before, in the ER when they brought in victims of curse attacks. It burned through anything tainted.
Kane didn't move.
"Kneel," Voss said.
My heart slammed against my ribs. "What?"
"He kneels," Voss continued, ignoring me. "We test the bond. If the curse reacts, we know he's too far gone. If it doesn't—" She shrugged. "Then maybe we can talk."
Kane's hands curled into fists at his sides. The air around him shimmered, just for a second, like heat rising off asphalt. I felt the curse stir under his skin, coiling tighter.
He was going to lose it. Right here. And they'd kill him for it.
I stepped forward before I could think it through.
"No," I said.
Voss's eyes snapped to me. "Excuse me?"
"He doesn't kneel." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Not for you. Not for anyone."
"Miss Hart—"
"It's Mrs. Rook now," I said, and the words tasted like ash and adrenaline. "And if you want proof, test me. I'm the one who can see the curse. I'm the one who's been inside it."
The bald councilor laughed again. "You? A paramedic with street magic thinks she can—"
"I touched the core," I said, louder now. "Last night. I saw what it is. What it's tied to." I glanced at Kane. His expression was unreadable, but his hand found mine and squeezed once. Hard.
Voss leaned back in her chair, studying me like I was a stain on expensive fabric.
"Interesting," she murmured. Then she stood.
She walked down from the platform, each step echoing in the silence. When she stopped in front of me, I realized she was taller than I'd thought. Taller and colder, like winter given human shape.
"You touched the core," Voss said softly. "And you're still standing. That's either very brave or very stupid."
"Probably both," I said.
Her mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Then she reached into her jacket and pulled out a ring.
My stomach dropped.
It was silver, with a small red stone set in a twisting band. I knew that ring. I'd seen it in the photo on Micah's nightstand, the one of Mom from before she got sick.
"Where did you get that?" My voice came out hoarse.
Voss turned the ring between her fingers, letting the light catch on the stone. "Your mother gave it to me," she said. "Years ago. Before she disappeared."
I couldn't breathe. "You knew her."
"I knew a lot of people, Mrs. Rook." Voss slipped the ring back into her pocket. "But your mother was special. She understood what the council really was. What we were trying to protect."
"She put the curse on Kane," I said. The words felt like broken glass coming up. "She carved it into him when he was twelve."
Voss didn't look surprised. That was worse than if she'd lied.
"She did what was necessary," Voss said. "To ensure the Red Door stayed closed. To make sure someone would always be watching it."
"The Red Door—"
"Is not your concern." Voss's voice sharpened. "What is your concern, Mrs. Rook, is this: your mother put the curse on your husband. She designed it to respond to you. And someone inside this marriage has already activated the final stage."
Kane's hand tightened on mine until my knuckles ached.
"What final stage?" he said.
Voss smiled again. That same cold, empty smile.
"The traitor," she said, "is already inside your marriage. And when the Red Door opens, it won't be the council who burns." She looked directly at me. "It will be you."
The room tilted. I heard Kane saying something, his voice rising, but the words didn't connect. All I could see was the ring disappearing into Voss's pocket. My mother's ring. The one she'd been wearing in the vision, when she'd carved the curse into Kane's chest.
When she'd told me it was meant for me.
Voss turned and walked back to the platform, her heels clicking against the marble.
"You have three days," she called over her shoulder. "Find the traitor, or we'll assume it's one of you. Either way, the Red Door gets sealed. Permanently."
The guards moved to flank us. Not touching. Just herding us toward the exit.
Kane pulled me forward, his grip on my hand the only thing keeping me upright. We made it to the hallway before my knees gave out. He caught me, one arm around my waist, and pressed me against the wall.
"Breathe," he said. "Evelyn. Breathe."
I sucked in air that tasted like dust and panic.
"She knew," I whispered. "Voss knew my mother. She knew about the curse. About the door."
"Yeah." Kane's face was pale, his pupils blown wide. The curse was moving under his skin again, black veins crawling up his neck. "And now we know she's been lying from the start."
"Three days," I said. "We have three days to find someone who's been playing us since before we even met."
Kane pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. His hand came up, thumb brushing my cheek.
"Then we'd better start looking," he said.
But all I could think about was the ring. My mother's ring, sitting in Voss's pocket like a trophy.
And the way Voss had smiled when she said the traitor was already inside our marriage.