Chapter 13 · The Blood on His Hands

"Don't touch that."

Kael's hand closed over mine before I could lift the burned photograph from Leah's desk. His palm was warm. Too warm. The bond flared under my ribs like someone had shoved a hot coal through my sternum.

I yanked my hand back. "Get off."

"It's evidence." He didn't let go. "You handle it bare, you contaminate it."

"I'm a judge. I know how evidence works."

"Yeah?" His thumb pressed against my pulse point. "Then why are your hands shaking?"

They were. I hated that he noticed. I hated that he was still touching me. I hated that I hadn't shoved him off yet.

Leah cleared her throat. She'd been standing by the window since we got back, arms crossed, watching the street below like Lockwood's men might kick the door in any second. "Sienna. You need to see the rest."

"The rest," I repeated. My voice came out flat. Kael finally released my wrist. I could still feel the heat of his fingers, the shape of them, like a brand.

Leah pulled a thin folder from under a stack of case files. "I cross-referenced the massacre scene photos with the Moonsworn Council's internal archive.