Chapter 5 · Stuck With My Enemy

"Get off me, Julian. I swear, if you tighten that bond one more inch, I'll tear your arm off."

The collar around my throat flashed white-hot.

Julian's hand locked around my wrist before I could drive my elbow into his ribs. He twisted just enough to stop me, not enough to break anything. That was the problem with him. He always knew exactly how much force to use.

"You want the collar to kill you?" he asked.

"I want you to stop touching me."

"Pick one."

The old apartment door exploded inward.

Wood cracked. Metal screamed. A black-coated League hound came through the opening with a shock rifle raised, its red targeting light sliding over my chest.

Julian yanked me against him.

The rifle fired.

Heat tore through the space where my head had been. The wall behind us blew apart, spraying plaster across my hair and shoulders. Julian shoved me down behind the kitchen counter, his body covering mine before the second shot came.

"Stay low," he snapped.

"You don't give me orders."

"Then call it a suggestion."

"I call it stupid."

Another blast punched through the counter. Ceramic plates burst over my back.

My pulse jumped. Julian's did too. I felt it through the bond, fast and hard, right under my skin. His fear brushed against mine like a live wire.

Not fear for himself.

For me.

I pushed that thought away before it could settle.

"Three at the door," he said. "One on the fire escape."

"You counted them while hiding?"

"I can count and duck. It isn't a rare skill."

"You missed the one in the hall."

Julian turned his head.

A boot slammed into the broken doorway. The second hound stepped through, carrying a League seal-baton in one hand and a restraint chain in the other.

"Vesper Vale," the hound called. "By order of the Hero League, you are under arrest for power theft, treason, and the murder of twenty-seven civilians. Surrender now."

"You forgot attempted murder," I called back. "Your people are terrible at paperwork."

The hound raised his baton.

Julian grabbed the back of my jacket and dragged me toward the narrow hallway.

"Move."

"I can handle three dogs."

"They brought null rounds. Your power is still unstable."

"My power is none of your business."

"Your power is tied to my life now. That makes it my business."

That landed harder than it should have.

The collar pulsed again. So did the one locked around his throat. A thin silver line ran between us, visible only when the bond flared. It stretched from the metal at my neck to the mark beneath his collar, then snapped tight every time we moved too far apart.

We had tried distance once.

The bond had answered by driving a blade of pain through both our skulls.

I still remembered Julian catching me when my knees gave out. I remembered his hands under my shoulders, steady and warm, while I told him to let me die. I remembered him refusing.

The bastard's hands did not lie.

His mouth did.

"You have two choices," Julian said as he shoved open the hallway door. "Stay and get restrained, or come with me."

"The third choice is killing you and everyone behind you."

"You'd need your power for that."

"I have other talents."

"I know."

He pulled me into the service corridor just as a shock round ripped through the doorway. The blast caught the edge of his shoulder. His body jerked.

The pain hit me a second later.

I slammed into the wall, gasping.

"Julian."

"Still standing."

"You're bleeding."

"You're worried."

"I'm annoyed."

"Sure."

He pressed his palm over the burn on his shoulder. His fingers shook once, then stopped. The bond carried the sting into my nerves, but it also carried the shape of his control. He was forcing the pain down.

I hated that I could feel him doing it.

I hated more that he could feel me noticing.

The corridor shook as the hounds forced their way through the apartment. Boots pounded behind us. Voices shouted commands into the building's emergency speakers.

"Seal the lower exits. No one leaves the block."

"The traitor is bonded to the League champion."

"Separate them on contact."

Julian looked at me.

"They can't separate us."

"They can try."

"And if they cut the bond?"

"You die first."

He said it like a fact. No drama. No hesitation.

My fingers curled around the knife hidden inside my sleeve.

"You sound very calm about that."

"I'm not calm."

"The bond says otherwise."

His eyes narrowed. "Stop digging through my head."

"Stop broadcasting."

"I'm not broadcasting."

"Your thoughts are loud."

"You can hear them?"

"Not all of them."

"How many?"

"Enough."

His jaw tightened. "What did you hear?"

I stepped closer, just to watch him tense.

"You were thinking, Don't be scared."

The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

Julian went still.

For half a second, the corridor, the alarms, and the running boots vanished. There was only the heat of his body in front of mine and the thin silver bond pulling us chest to chest.

His gaze dropped to my mouth, then snapped back to my eyes.

"I wasn't talking to you."

"You were thinking at me."

"That isn't how thoughts work."

"That's how this bond works. Try to keep up, golden boy."

His hand lifted toward my jacket.

I caught his wrist.

"Don't."

"Your zipper is open."

"It has survived worse than that."

"The collar is exposed."

"Good. Maybe someone will shoot it."

"Vesper."

The way he said my name made my grip loosen. Not soft. Not kind. A warning wrapped around something I didn't want to name.

He freed his wrist and pulled the zipper up to my throat. His knuckles brushed beneath my jaw. The contact lasted less than a second, but the bond caught it and threw the sensation through both of us.

Warm fingers.

Rough skin.

His breath close enough to touch my cheek.

I stopped breathing anyway.

Julian's hand paused at the collar.

"There," he said. "Now the hounds can't lock onto the mark."

"You could have said that before grabbing me."

"You would have argued."

"I am arguing now."

"You argue when you're frightened."

The words hit a nerve.

I shoved him back against the corridor wall. His shoulder struck metal, and his face tightened from the burn.

"Say that again."

"You're frightened."

"I'm furious."

"Those aren't opposites."

I pressed my knife under his chin.

His hands went to my waist, not grabbing, just holding me in place while the bond tightened between us. His thumbs rested against the sides of my jacket. Every breath moved us together.

"Take your hands off me," I said.

"Put the knife away."

"You first."

"I'm not the one holding steel."

"You're the one holding my life."

His eyes went dark.

Behind him, boots pounded closer.

"They'll take you alive if they can," he said. "They'll take me apart to find out how the bond works. If you want either of us breathing in an hour, we need to move."

"You mean you need me."

"Yes."

That answer stole the next insult from my mouth.

Julian leaned forward until the edge of my knife pressed closer. His voice dropped.

"I need you. You need me. And those people are coming to put us in separate cages. So decide what matters more. Your pride or your pulse."

"You forgot a choice."

"What?"

"We make them regret opening that door."

His mouth almost curved.

"There she is."

I pulled the knife away. "Don't sound pleased."