Chapter 5

"You're in no shape to order me around."

"I'm in exactly the shape to order you around. I'm still standing."

"Barely."

His mouth tightened.

The silver bolt had torn a ragged hole beneath his ribs. The blood soaking through his black shirt wasn't red anymore. It had gone dark. Almost gray. Thin black lines crawled away from the wound and vanished beneath his skin.

I looked down at our joined hands.

The blood pact burned between us. His strength moved through my bones in hard, dangerous waves. Every time he breathed, I felt the drag of it in my own lungs.

"The poison's spreading," I said.

"I noticed."

Another strike slammed into the door.

The iron bars groaned.

Rafe turned me toward the narrow passage behind us. "When that door gives, stay low. The first man through will have a silver blade. Take his wrist, not his throat."

"You're giving me fighting advice now?"

"I'm giving you a chance to live. Try not to make it personal."

"You chained me to your blood and dragged me into your private vault. Everything about this is personal."

His eyes dropped to my mouth for half a second.

That pause hit harder than the next blow.

Then he looked away. "You used my hammer. You killed one of Lucian's men. Don't pretend you're still my helpless captive."

"I never pretended that. You did. In front of your entire court."

His jaw flexed.

The memory flashed between us anyway. His hand around my wrist. His voice calling me a debt-servant while the nobles watched. The bond branded into my skin. The humiliation he'd turned into a weapon.

Now his thumb pressed against my pulse.

"You want to settle that argument while Lucian's squad is cutting through the door?"

"I can multitask."

"No, you can't."

"I can kill and complain at the same time. I've done it for years."

A crooked breath left him. It wasn't a laugh. Rafe didn't look built for laughter anymore.

The next strike split the wood around the iron frame.

A voice rang through the door.

"Commander Valko! Open this door and surrender the rogue! The council will honor your service!"

Rafe's face went still.

I leaned closer. "That's Lucian's man?"

"No. Lucian likes hearing himself speak. This one is just scared."

The voice came again. "Vera Thorne! The council wants you alive for questioning! Commander Valko is harboring a clan murderer! Step away from him, and your sentence may be reduced!"

I laughed once. "Reduced from what? Death?"

"From execution by silver!"

"Tell them to get in line."

Rafe pulled me behind the stone pillar beside the vault door. His body pressed against mine for one sharp second as he reached past me and slid another bolt into place.

His heat soaked through my torn shirt. His breath brushed the side of my face.

"You need to stop standing in front of me," he said.

"You need to stop putting yourself between me and everyone who wants me dead."

"That's not going to happen."

"Why?"

His eyes locked on mine.

The bond pulled tight. Not pain. Not exactly. It was the sick, intimate awareness of his heartbeat beneath my hand. His body was close enough for me to feel every uneven breath.

"Because you're mine to protect," he said.

"And if I don't want your protection?"

"You can complain while I do it."

I shoved his shoulder.

He caught my wrist before I could pull away. His grip wasn't rough, but it was absolute. The commander in him still knew how to hold someone in place.

"Let go."

"Your hand's bleeding."

I looked down.

A strip of skin had split across my palm from the hammer's handle. Blood ran toward my wrist, bright against the black dust.

Rafe's gaze followed it.

His pupils narrowed.

"Rafe."

He released me so fast my arm swung back.

"Don't look at me like that," I said.

"Like what?"

"Like you're deciding whether to bite me."

His nostrils flared. "I'm deciding whether the silver poison has made you reckless or stupid."

"You were the one staring at my blood."

"Because our pact is feeding through it."

"That isn't an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting."

A scrape sounded behind us.

Not from the door.

From the dark passage leading deeper into the vault.

I spun with my blade raised.

The broken knife in my hand had lost half its edge, but the point was still sharp enough to open a throat. Rafe stepped in front of me, too fast for a wounded man.

Black blood spilled from beneath his ribs.

"Move," I snapped.

"Stay back."

"You don't get to say that after ordering me to fight beside you."

The passage stayed dark.

A metal ring clicked against stone.

Rafe's hand went to the sword at his hip. His fingers shook once before he forced them still.

I saw it.

He saw me see it.

"You're getting worse," I said.

"I'm fine."

"Your hand's shaking."

"Your mouth's still running. We're both surviving."

The thing in the passage moved.

A man stepped into the red glow of the vault lamps. He wore the gray coat of the council hunters, but it was torn across his chest. Dust streaked his face. A silver spike rested in his right hand.

He'd come through a side drain.

He grinned when he saw me.

"There she is."

Rafe shoved me back.

The hunter lunged.

Steel flashed between them. Rafe caught the spike with his forearm guard, but the impact drove him against the wall. The hunter twisted, aiming for his throat.

I kicked the man's knee.

He dropped half an inch. Rafe used the opening and drove his elbow into the hunter's jaw.

Bone cracked.

The hunter staggered, then swung at me.

I ducked under the silver spike. It scraped my hair. Heat burned across my scalp.

"Vera! Left!"

I didn't need the warning. Through the bond, I felt Rafe's power slam into my muscles. My body moved before my mind caught up.

I caught the hunter's wrist, turned with his momentum, and drove my broken blade under his jaw.

His eyes went wide.

Blood spilled over my knuckles.

I pulled the blade free.

The hunter folded against me before I shoved him to the floor.

Rafe stared at the body, then at me.

"I told you to take his wrist."

"I took his wrist first."

"You didn't have to kill him."

"He came through your wall with a silver spike. I wasn't going to ask him to sit down and explain himself."

Rafe's breathing turned rough.

The black lines at his neck had climbed higher. One vein cut beneath his jaw like ink beneath glass.

I grabbed the front of his shirt.

"Sit down."

"No."

"That wasn't a request."

"You don't command me."

"I just did."

His eyes burned into mine. For one second, I thought he might drag me against the wall and remind me exactly who held the fortress, the weapons, and the blood contract.

Then his knees dipped.

I caught him under the arms.

His weight drove me back against the pillar. His chest crushed into mine. Iron and cold smoke filled my nose.

"Damn it, Rafe."

"Don't use my name like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you care if I fall."

"I care if you die before I get answers."

"That's better."

"You're welcome. Now sit."

He pushed away from me, but the movement failed halfway. His hand grabbed my waist instead.

The contact burned through the thin fabric between us.

His mouth came close to my ear. "If I lose control, you run."

"You don't get to threaten me with your weakness."

"It's not a threat."

"Then what is it?"

"A warning."

"I don't run from wounded wolves."

His grip tightened. "You should run from me."

The words came out low and rough.

Not a command.

A confession he hadn't meant to give me.

I looked at his face. His skin had gone pale beneath the dirt. His pupils were blown wide, and his teeth had lengthened at the edges.

The silver poison was eating through him.

"Tell me how to stop it," I said.

"You can't."

"Try again."

"Silver has to be drawn out before it reaches the heart."

"Then I'll draw it out."

"No."

"You're not in charge of that answer."

"Vera, don't."

"Where's the wound?"

"You already saw it."

"The bolt hole. The poison's moving through your blood. I need to open it and drain what I can."

His hand left my waist. His fingers closed around my throat, not hard enough to choke me, but firm enough to stop me from leaning closer.

His palm was hot.

"You cut me open, and the bond will pull the poison into you."

"The bond already pulls your pain into me."

"Not like this."

"Then break it."

His thumb rested beneath my jaw.

The space between us shrank until his breath touched my lips.

"You know I can't."

"You said it was a debt bond. Debt can be paid."

"Not this debt."

"Why?"

His fangs showed.

Behind us, the sound at the door changed. The second squad had stopped using the hammer. Metal scraped over metal. They were preparing something larger.

Rafe's gaze flicked toward the door.

I caught his chin and turned him back to me.

"Look at me."

His fingers tightened against my throat.

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Then bite me and get it over with."

His body went still.

The bond snapped hot between us.

"Say that again," he said.

"You heard me."

"You don't know what you're offering."

"I know you're seconds from tearing through that door and getting yourself killed. I know the poison is climbing your neck. I know you won't let anyone else touch you. So either tell me how to save you or stop pretending you want me alive."

His thumb moved once against my skin.

I felt the rough edge of his claw.

He leaned in.

His mouth brushed the air beside my throat, close enough for heat to spread across my skin. His fangs stopped just short of touching me.

The bond flared so hard my knees nearly buckled.

Rafe froze.

His breathing turned ragged.

"You said you wanted me dead," he whispered.

"I still do."

"Liar."

"Maybe. But I don't want you dead before you tell me who ordered my clan's execution."

His eyes sharpened.

There it was. The secret he kept behind every order, every locked door, every ugly act of protection.

"You saw the decree," he said.

"I saw my family crest. I haven't opened it. You stopped me."

"Because opening it would put a target on your back."

"I already have a target on my back. Your council squad is trying to drive silver through your door to reach me."

"They aren't here for you alone."

"Then tell me what they're here for."

He pulled away from my throat and swayed.

I grabbed his shirt again. "Sit down before you fall."

This time, he let me drag him to the stone floor beside the pillar.

He landed hard, one knee bent, his back against the wall. His sword slipped from his fingers and clattered across the floor.

I dropped beside him.

"Where's your medical kit?"

"In the cabinet under the war table."

"Point."

He lifted one shaking hand toward the far side of the vault.

I ran.

The war table was covered with maps, knives, and sealed letters. I kicked open the cabinet and found bandages, a bottle of clear spirits, a bone-handled saw, and a small black case.

I grabbed everything.

"Which one?" I called.

"Black case."

"What's inside?"

"A silver hook."

I stopped.

"You're joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"You look like death with a temper."

"Open it."

I returned to him and dropped the supplies beside his thigh. The black case held three hooked instruments, a clamp, and a narrow glass tube.

My stomach tightened.

"This is how you treat silver wounds?"

"If you're lucky."

"You didn't mention the lucky part."

"You didn't ask."

"I shouldn't have to ask whether the tool you're handing me is going to tear your ribs apart."

"You can leave."

I slapped the case shut.

"Say that again."

His gaze met mine.

"You can leave, Vera. The bond won't stop you from walking out. Take the passage behind the shelves. It leads to the lower armory. There are horses below."

"And you?"

"I'll hold the door."

"With what? Your charming personality?"

"It has gotten me this far."

A heavy boom shook the vault.

The ceiling cracked above us.

Rafe's hand shot out and caught my wrist. His claws dug into my skin as the larger weapon struck the door again.

"Don't move," he said.

"What did they bring?"

"A breach charge."

"How long?"

He looked at the barred door.

Then at the silver hook in my hand.

"Less than a minute."

"Then lie back."

"Vera—"

"You said the poison has to come out before it reaches your heart. I can pull it out, or I can watch you die while your council friends burn through the door. Pick one."

His grip tightened around my wrist.

"If you do this, the bond may take more than the poison."

"What does that mean?"

"It may take your blood. Your strength. Maybe your life."

"You should've led with that."

"You're not doing it."

"Watch me."

I reached for the hem of his shirt.

He caught my hand before I could lift it.

His body heat pressed into my fingers. His breath came rough and hot, carrying the metallic bite of poison.

"Vera, don't you dare—"

The door exploded inward.