Chapter 32 · The Last Night Open

The tracker on Aiden's wrist is blinking red.

Leah watches the numbers scroll down. Seven thousand two hundred. Seven thousand one ninety-eight. Seven thousand one ninety-six. Every two seconds another bar drains. Aiden's lying on the cafe floor, chest barely moving, blood pooling under his ribs where the hunter's blade went in. Ink's perched on his shoulder, feathers ruffled, making this low rattling sound that might be a death raven's version of crying.

"How much time?" Vera's kneeling beside her, hands hovering over Aiden like she still remembers being an ER nurse. Like muscle memory works when you're dead.

Leah checks the tracker again. "An hour. Maybe less."

"An hour until what?"

"Until the debts hit zero and the Council drags him back." Leah's fingers are still tight around the ledger. Three hundred years of cooked books. Proof that every reaper contract in the system is a lie. She should be running. Should be halfway to the Council hall by now, shoving this thing in their faces, watching them squirm.

But Aiden's dying on the floor and the street outside is crawling with hunters.

"They're not taking him back," Ink says. The raven's voice is hoarse. "They're taking him apart.