Chapter 3

I hated that I noticed.

"I told you what I know," he said. "The signal was routed through three dead exchanges."

"Then route it back."

"Mara—"

"Don't use my name like that." I twisted against him. "You dragged me into this house. You locked every exit. You let me think that broken token could lead me to him, and now it says Nolan is the next witness to be erased?"

His jaw tightened.

"The token didn't say where he was," Soren said. "It gave us a warning."

"A warning is useless if he dies before we find him."

"He isn't dead."

"You don't know that."

"No." His eyes dropped to my mouth for half a second. "But if he were dead, the signal would not have stopped cleanly."

That made me still.

The room had gone sharp around the edges. The broken token sat on the table between us, its cracked surface crawling with black lines. Veyra's seal had spread across it like ink under glass. One phrase remained visible beneath the seal.

NEXT WITNESS: NOLAN QUINN.

The letters pulsed once.

Then the token split with a dry snap.

I yanked one wrist free. "What does that mean?"

Soren looked at the token, not me. "It means whoever placed the seal is close enough to hear the signal."

"Close enough to hear him?"

"Close enough to cut it off."

My stomach dropped. "You said the hunters were outside."

"They are."

"And Veyra?"

His silence answered too fast.

I stepped closer. "You know her."

"I know what she leaves behind."

"That's not what I asked."

"It's the answer you're getting."

"No, it isn't." I jabbed a finger at the black burn on his arm. "You saw that seal and nearly tore the room apart. You know what it means. You know what she wants from Nolan. And you know what your contract gun is bound to."

His gaze snapped back to mine.

There it was. The first crack.

I smiled without warmth. "There you are."

"Careful."

"What happens if I ask the right question? You throw me into another locked room?"

Soren moved so fast my back hit the edge of the table. His hand landed beside my hip, trapping me without touching me. His body came close enough that I felt his breath against my cheek.

"You want answers?" he asked. "Stop trying to break every door before you understand what is behind it."

"You want obedience? Buy a dog."

His mouth tightened. "You think this is a game because you can read a ledger."

"I think you keep saving me while pretending you don't care if I live. That's the part that doesn't add up."

His fingers flexed against the table.

For one stupid second, I felt the warmth of him through my dress. The clean bite of his cologne. The rough edge in his breathing. His eyes stayed on mine, dark and fixed, like he was deciding whether to threaten me or kiss me just to shut me up.

I lifted my chin. "Which one is it?"

"Neither."

"Liar."

He leaned closer. "You don't get to call me a liar while your fiancé is using your audit seal to bury a whole district."

The word hit harder than his hand had.

Calder.

The forged ledgers. The banquet screens. The crowd watching my name turn into a charge. Calder had stood beside me in front of every bureau official and called me a thief.

I shoved Soren away. This time he let me go.

"Don't put Calder and me in the same sentence," I said.

"Then stop protecting the access key he stole from you."

"I didn't protect anything."

"Your signature opened the municipal debt vault."

"My signature was copied."

"And your brother has the original access records."

I stared at him. "You knew."

"I suspected."

"You knew Nolan wasn't just running from hunters. He was carrying proof."

Soren reached beneath his coat and pulled out a narrow metal case. He set it on the table beside the broken token.

"I know he took something from the old exchange before Calder's people burned the records," he said. "I don't know where he hid it."

"And you kept that from me?"

"You were busy trying to escape."

"Because you kidnapped me."

"Because the hunters were already inside the district."

"You could have told me."

"Would you have stayed?"

"No."

"Exactly."

I hated how easily he said it. I hated more that he was right.

He opened the metal case.

The contract gun lay inside on a bed of dark red velvet. It was smaller than I expected, built from black metal with silver lines running along the barrel. No trigger guard. No visible ammunition. A glass chamber near the grip held one bead of blood, suspended like it had forgotten how to fall.

My throat tightened.

"That's the gun?"

"The broker's gun."

"You mean the thing that fired at me during the banquet?"

"It didn't fire at you."

"A shot tore through the wall beside my head. Forgive me for missing the distinction."

"The contract missed you on purpose."

I stared at him. "Why?"

Soren picked up the gun. The black burn on his arm crawled toward his palm, reacting to it.

"Because the debt isn't written against you."

"Then who is it written against?"

His thumb brushed the metal. The gun gave a low click.

"That depends on what the contract names."

"You said one debt buys one clearly named price."

"I said debt magic follows rules. I never said it was fair."

He held the gun out to me.

I didn't take it.

"What are you doing?"

"You need to open the old exchange ledger."

"And this opens it?"

"The gun recognizes contract seals. Shoot the mark on the ledger, and it will trace the debt line back to its source."

"You could do that."

"The ledger won't answer me."

"Why not?"

His eyes went flat. "Because it knows my name."

That was not an answer. It was worse.

I glanced at the gun. "What happens if I take it?"

"You may see the line."

"And if I pull the trigger?"

"You may activate the contract."

"May?"

"Do you want certainty, Mara? Go back to the ballroom and ask Calder. He enjoys explaining things right before he destroys them."

I reached for the gun.

The metal was cold at first. Then it warmed against my palm, almost too quickly. A thin silver line lit beneath my fingers and ran up my wrist like a vein.

Soren's hand closed over mine.

"Don't point it at me."

"I wasn't."

"You were thinking about it."

"Maybe I was thinking about pointing it at the person who put Nolan's name on that token."

"You don't know where that person is."

"Then help me find out."

His palm covered the back of my hand. His thumb rested against my pulse. The contact was practical. It still sent a hot, angry shiver through me.

He noticed. Of course he did.

"Your hand is shaking," he said.

"Your house is trying to kill me."

"The house is trying to keep you alive."

"You say that like those are the same thing."

His thumb pressed once against my pulse. "With you, they usually are."

I pulled my hand away before the heat could reach my face.

"Show me the ledger seal."

Soren turned toward the far wall and lifted two fingers. The black glass panel split down the middle. Behind it sat a locked iron drawer, sunk into stone.

"The ledger is in there?"

"A copy. The original is in the old exchange."

"You said this gun could trace it."

"It can trace the copy's debt signature. If the line is still active, it will point us to the original."

"And if it isn't?"

"Then Nolan loses the only advantage he has."

He pulled the drawer open. A thick book rested inside, its cover sealed with a silver-black mark. Three circles crossed by a single vertical stroke.

The same shape that had appeared on my broken token.

My breath caught. "Veyra's seal."

Soren's expression hardened. "Don't say her name while you're holding the gun."

"Why? Does it scare the weapon?"

"It wakes the wrong debt."

"You keep saying things like that and expecting me not to ask questions."

"I expect you to stay alive."

"Those aren't the same goal."

"They are tonight."

He guided the ledger onto the table. His body brushed my shoulder as he reached around me. The contact lasted less than a second, but I felt the scrape of his coat against my arm and the heat under his sleeve.

I hated that I wanted him closer after he moved away.

"Aim at the seal," he said.

"If this kills you, I'm not taking responsibility."

"You won't get the chance."

"That's not comforting."

"It wasn't meant to be."

I raised the gun.

The barrel felt heavier than it had a moment ago. The glass chamber near the grip filled with a second bead of blood.

Soren's eyes narrowed. "Mara. Wait."

"You said shoot the seal."

"I said aim."

"You also said Nolan loses his advantage if I don't do this."

"The gun is reacting to your blood."

"So let it."

"No."

He caught my elbow, but I twisted away. The gun flashed silver in my hand. The seal on the ledger opened like a black eye.

A voice whispered from inside the book.

"Name the debtor."

My fingers locked around the grip.

Soren went still. "Don't answer."

"It asked for a name."

"It wants a claim."

"Then give it yours."

"Mara."

I aimed at the seal.

"Name the debtor," the voice repeated.

My heart slammed against my ribs. Nolan's face hit my mind. His crooked grin. The way he used to steal the burnt edges off my toast and swear they tasted better.

"Nolan Quinn," I said.

Soren swore.

The gun fired without a flash.

The impact punched through my shoulder and sent me backward. Soren grabbed my waist before I hit the floor, hauling me against him. The ledger snapped open. Pages whipped past my face, each one covered in moving ink.

"What did you do?" he demanded.

"I followed your instructions."

"You named him."

"You told me to trace him!"

The gun jerked in my hand.

Its barrel swung away from the ledger.

Straight toward Soren.

He shoved me behind him, but the weapon dragged my arm with it. My shoulder burned. The silver lines along the barrel brightened, one after another, until the muzzle rested against the center of his chest.

Soren looked down at it.

For the first time since I met him, he looked afraid.

Not for me.

For himself.

"Drop it," he said.

"I can't."

"Mara, drop the gun."

"It's locked."

The glass chamber filled with dark red light. Beneath Soren's shirt, something answered. A black mark spread over his chest, visible through the fabric, shaped like the same three circles on the ledger.

My mouth went dry. "What is that?"

"Don't touch me."

"Soren—"

"Don't touch me!"

The gun gave a deep mechanical click.

A thin ring of red light formed around the barrel. Heat rolled over my fingers. Soren caught my wrist, his grip crushing now, and pulled me close enough that his heartbeat struck against the muzzle.

Once.

Twice.

The weapon matched it.

"You said the debt wasn't written against me," I whispered.

His eyes held mine. "It isn't."

"Then why is your heart under the barrel?"

The red ring tightened. Somewhere inside the gun, a charge began to build.

Soren's breath touched my lips. "Because the contract never named Nolan as the debtor. It named him as the witness."

"And you?"

He looked at the gun, then back at me.

"I'm the payment."

The charge climbed higher. The ledger pages stopped moving. A fresh line of ink crawled across the open page, writing one word beneath Nolan's name.

MARA.

Soren's fingers tightened around my wrist.

"Don't read the rest," he said.

"Why?"

The gun locked against his heart, and the red light inside the barrel began to burn brighter as he bent toward my ear and whispered, "Because if you see what it wants from you—"