Just a voice.
“Hold him down.”
I jerked back.
Julian went pale. “You saw that?”
“Who was it?”
“You were in my head.”
“You dragged me in.”
“I did not.”
“Then why did I see you dying?”
His grip on my hand loosened.
I ripped the knife free and stepped back. Julian didn’t chase me. He pressed his palm to his chest, right over the place the memory had shown me.
“Who was it?” I asked again.
“Answer my question first.”
“No.”
“Vesper.”
“Don’t use my name like a threat.”
“Then stop acting like you don’t know what you saw.”
I turned the knife toward the floor but kept it ready. “I saw a black sigil. Someone was extracting something from you.”
His eyes sharpened. “What else?”
“A voice.”
“What voice?”
I watched him closely. “You tell me.”
He moved before I could react.
Julian crossed the space between us and caught my jaw. His thumb pressed beneath my chin, forcing my face up. The knife was still in my hand, but his other hand closed around my wrist and pushed it against the wall.
“You don’t get to play games with this,” he said.
His voice had gone low. Not loud. Worse.
I could feel his fear through the bond now, buried under anger and control. It made him grip me harder.
“You’re scared,” I whispered.
His eyes flashed.
“There it is,” I said. “The great Julian Vale is scared someone knows what happens when the League turns on him.”
“You know nothing about the League.”
“I know they erased my power signature, forged the attack logs, and put my name on a death order.”
“You opened the gate.”
“I was inside the shield room when the gate opened.”
“Three people saw you.”
“Three people who disappeared before the hearing.”
His thumb paused against my skin.
I leaned into the pressure just enough to make it look like surrender. “Check the maintenance archive.”
“Already did.”
“No, you checked the copy.”
His brows drew together.
“The original is under the old arena,” I said. “Behind the memorial wall. The League sealed it after the attack.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I put it there.”
His grip shifted. A fraction. Enough.
I slammed my forehead into his.
Julian staggered back with a curse. I tore free, spun, and kicked the knife beneath the counter before he could grab it.
“Damn it, Vesper!”
“Did that hurt?”
“You head-butted me.”
“You were asking too many questions.”
Blood showed at his brow. He wiped it with two fingers and stared at the red on them.
For one second, I thought he might hit me.
Instead, he smiled without humor.
“That’s the part they left out of the wanted notice.”
“Which part?”
“That you fight dirty.”
“They called me a villain. I assumed you’d read the fine print.”
He pulled a small silver device from his belt.
My smile vanished. “What is that?”
“A limiter.”
“No.”
“It keeps the contract from burning through your nerves.”
“Put it away.”
“You’re unstable.”
“I’m going to make you regret that word.”
He pressed the device against the collar.
I lunged.
Julian caught me around the waist and lifted me just enough to break my balance. My boots scraped the floor. I grabbed his shoulder, then his hair, and yanked his head sideways.
He grunted but didn’t let go.
“Put me down.”
“Stop fighting.”
“Stop touching me.”
“Pick one.”
“Both.”
He carried me two steps and set me against the counter. His body blocked mine, close and solid. One hand stayed at my waist. The other held the limiter to my throat.
The metal collar clicked.
A burst of heat raced through my skin.
I gasped.
Julian froze. His eyes locked on mine.
“You felt that,” he said.
“I felt you panic.”
“I didn’t panic.”
“You forgot to breathe.”
“So did you.”
For one dangerous second, neither of us moved. His hand was still at my waist. My fingers were curled into his coat. The limiter hummed between us, and the bond pulled every small reaction into the open.
His heartbeat jumped.
Mine answered.
I shoved him away, but the limiter snapped fully into place before he lost his grip.
The collar tightened.
Not enough to choke me. Enough to warn me.
A thin ring of red light locked beneath my jaw.
Julian stepped back. “There. Now you can’t overload the bond.”
I touched the collar. My fingers shook once. I hated that he noticed.
“You just put a restraint on me.”
“I kept you alive.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I do when your death takes me with it.”
The words came out too fast.
I stared at him.
He stared back.
Then I smiled slowly. “You need me.”
His face shut down.
“You need my anchor,” I said. “You need my power to stabilize the mark. And you need me alive because if I die, whatever is eating at you finishes the job.”
“Careful.”
“Or what? You’ll tighten the leash?”
“I’ll drag you to the arena archive myself.”
“Try it.”
“I will.”
“Then we have a deal.”
He narrowed his eyes. “That wasn’t a deal.”
“It is now. You get your archive. I get access to the League tower.”
“No.”
“Then I tell the city its perfect hero is being hollowed out from the inside.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know enough.”
“You’ll be executed before you reach a broadcast panel.”
“Then you’d better keep me alive.”
The bond pulsed between us.
Julian looked at the collar. Then at me. His thumb brushed the limiter’s control, and the red light brightened.
“Say the terms,” he said.
I blinked. “What?”
“You want access. You want protection. You want your name cleared.”
“I want my power back.”
His expression went cold. “That’s not something I can promise.”
“You hold the key.”
“I can open the first lock.”
“Then open it.”
“Bind yourself to my command for seventy-two hours.”
I laughed once. “Absolutely not.”
“Or I hand you over.”
“You can’t hand me over without losing your anchor.”
“Then I’ll find another way.”
“You won’t.”
“You sound sure.”
“I can hear your thoughts.”
His eyes narrowed. “You can hear fragments.”
“Enough to know you’re lying.”
He stepped closer. “And what am I thinking now?”
I could feel the answer before I said it. His focus dropped to my mouth again. His hand lifted, stopped inches from my throat, and curled into a fist.
“‘Don’t let her see how much I need her,’” I said.
Julian’s face went still.
I leaned closer. “Was I right?”
The door exploded inward.
Black-armored League hounds stormed through the splintered frame, weapons raised. Their masks lit with red targeting lines.
“Vesper Rook!” one of them shouted. “Get on your knees!”
Julian grabbed my arm and pulled me behind him.
I yanked against his hold. “Don’t hide me.”
“I’m not hiding you.”
“You’re blocking my shot.”
“You don’t have a shot.”
The hounds spread across the room. Six of them. Maybe more outside. Their weapons hummed with anti-shield charges.
Julian’s hand tightened around mine.
The collar flashed red.
“Stay with me,” he said.
“I’d rather die.”
“Not an option.”
The first hound raised his weapon.
Julian pulled me against his side, his shoulder pressed to mine, his breath hot against my ear.
“If you run, the collar will—