"Get on your knees, Vesper."
The shock baton cracked against my ribs before I could reach the alley mouth. My legs folded. I hit one knee, bit down on a curse, and drove my elbow backward.
The League guard grunted. His grip loosened for half a second.
That was all I needed.
I twisted, caught his wrist, and slammed it against the brick wall. The baton clattered between us.
"You people really need new lines," I said.
He head-butted me.
White sparks burst across my vision. I stumbled, and a second guard grabbed the back of my coat. His armored glove tightened around my throat.
"You don't get to run anymore," he growled. "Not after what you did."
"I didn't do anything."
"You burned three shield stations."
"Then why are you chasing me instead of arresting me?"
His fingers squeezed harder.
Because an arrest came with questions. Questions came with records. Records might prove the League had lied about me.
And the League didn't want anyone asking why their former top shield had lost every ounce of power overnight.
The guard dragged me backward. My boots scraped over broken glass. His partner raised a pulse pistol, the blue charge whining as it locked onto my chest.
"Last chance," the first guard said. "Hands behind your back."
"Go to hell."
"Gladly. You're coming with us."
The pistol flashed.
I threw my hand up.
Nothing happened.
For one awful second, my empty palm stayed between me and the weapon. No shield. No force wall. No silver barrier blooming from my skin.
The blast hit the dumpster beside my head. Metal screamed. Heat slapped my cheek.
"Still powerless," the second guard said.
"I noticed."
The first guard shoved me down. My shoulder struck the pavement. His knee pinned my spine, and a restraint cuff snapped around my wrist.
"The Hero League wants you alive," he said. "Silas wants you breathing. Me? I don't care which one gets disappointed."
My stomach tightened at the name.
Silas never came up in official reports. Not anymore. But every time a League officer mentioned him, somebody disappeared within the week.
"Tell Silas he can come get me himself," I said.
The guard laughed against my ear. "You think you still matter? You're a traitor with a price on her head. The city watched your trial. They saw you tear down the shield grid."
"The city saw a doctored recording."
"The city saw you."
He yanked my other arm behind my back.
A boot stopped inches from my fingers. The pulse pistol hovered above my face.
"Hold still," the second guard said. "This part gets ugly if you twitch."
"You first."
The guard on my back shifted his weight.
I slammed my heel into his knee.
He swore and fell sideways. I rolled, caught the dropped baton, and jammed it into the seam beneath his shoulder plate. The current jumped. His body locked up.
The second guard fired again.
I moved before I thought.
A thin blue line snapped out of my palm.
It struck the pulse blast and split it in two. One half burned a black mark into the pavement. The other tore through a stack of crates behind me.
Both guards froze.
So did I.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
My power had been stripped three months ago. The League had tested me six times, cut through every scan, and stamped NULL across my file.
But a shield had just answered me.
Small. Unsteady. Barely more than a thread.
Still mine.
"What the hell was that?" the second guard demanded.
I pushed to my feet. "You tell me. You're the expert."
He raised his pistol again.
The alley door behind him opened.
Julian Vale stepped through.
Of course he did.
The League's golden boy wore a dark tactical coat over polished armor, the silver crest at his throat catching the weak light. No helmet. No visible weapon. He never needed one. People moved when Julian looked at them.
His gaze dropped to the unconscious guard, then to the blue thread still trembling over my palm.
"Put the baton down, Vesper."
"Try asking nicely."
"Put it down."
His voice wasn't loud. It didn't have to be.
The second guard straightened. "Commander, she just used a shield."
"I saw."
"Her file says she can't."
"Her file says a lot of things."
Julian took one step closer.
I backed toward the wall, keeping the baton up. My ribs burned. Blood ran warm from my lip, and I could feel his eyes tracking it.
"You always show up after the fun starts," I said.
"You always make a mess before I arrive."
"I was being arrested."
"You attacked two officers."
"They attacked me first."
"And you answered with a forbidden shield."
"You mean the power you stole?"
The second guard glanced between us. "Commander?"
Julian didn't look away from me. "Leave."
"But—"
"Take your partner and leave."
The guard hesitated.
Julian's eyes sharpened.
"Now."
The officer dragged his stunned partner toward the alley entrance. Before he disappeared, he pointed at me.
"She's yours, Commander. If she runs—"
"She won't."
The door slammed shut.
I laughed once. It came out rough. "That sounded confident."
"You have nowhere to go."
"I had somewhere to go before your pets cornered me."
"You were running from six blocks of League patrols."
"So you counted? That's sweet."
He moved faster than I expected.
One second he stood near the door. The next, my wrist was trapped in his hand, the baton pinned between us. His palm was hot through my torn sleeve. His fingers closed around the bones of my wrist without crushing them, which somehow made it worse.
Julian leaned in.
His breath brushed the side of my face.
"Don't test me tonight."
"You say that like I ever listen."
"You don't have to listen. You just have to understand what happens if I let the League take you."
"They kill me?"
"Eventually."
The word landed hard.
His thumb pressed against my pulse. Not gentle. Not quite cruel. He could feel how fast my heart was beating, and he knew it.
"Let go," I said.
"Give me the baton."
"No."
"Then I'll take it."
"Go ahead."
His eyes dropped to my mouth for one quick second.
I saw it. So did he.
His jaw tightened.
"You're still impossible."
"You're still staring."
His grip shifted.
I drove my knee toward his thigh. Julian caught it with his leg and shoved me flat against the wall. The brick scraped my shoulder. His body blocked the exit, close enough that the heat from his armor warmed my skin.
"You want your power back," he said.
The words hit harder than the wall.
I stopped fighting for half a breath.
Julian noticed.
Of course he noticed. He had built his entire career on noticing weakness and smiling while he used it.
"What did you say?" I asked.
"You heard me."
"I want a lot of things. A new coat. A clean record. Your head on a spike."
"Your power is the one you care about."
"And you have it?"
"No."
"Then move."
"I know who does."
My fingers tightened around the baton.
"Who?"
Julian reached inside his coat and pulled out a narrow black case. He held it between us.
A silver symbol was stamped across the lid: two circles joined by a slash.
Soul-bind.
My stomach dropped.
"You can't be serious."
"I'm completely serious."
"That thing is illegal."
"So is hiding a live power core inside your body."
"I don't have a power core."
"You just proved you do."
"That was a reflex."
"It was a shield response. The same one you had before the trial."
I looked at the case, then back at him. "Why would you bring that to me?"
"Because the League is running out of patience."
"They already hate me."
"They hate what you represent. There's a difference."
"Don't dress this up as concern. You never cared about me."