Chapter 20 · Blood Run

"Drop the sword, High Inquisitor, or we carve the heresy out of you piece by piece."

The Captain’s voice bounced off the jagged stone walls, cold and mocking.

Viviane didn’t budge. Her blade trembled, the tip hovering inches from the grit. Behind her, Silas could feel her breath—short, jagged, smelling of ozone and raw adrenaline. He shifted, his hand brushing the small of her back.

She stiffened. She didn't pull away.

"You're taking orders from a Cardinal who hasn't left his bedroom in three years," Viviane spat. Her voice was coming back. "Since when does that make you a loyal soldier?"

"Since the pay doubled," the Captain replied. He stepped forward, void-magic swirling around his gauntlets like oily smoke. "And since the target became a traitor. Last chance. Step away from the mage, or you both die here."

Silas leaned in. His lips almost grazed the shell of her ear. "He's not bluffing. Look at his stance. He's waiting for you to blink."

"I don't blink," she whispered. Her pulse drummed against his palm, frantic and fast.

"Liar," Silas murmured.

He slid his hand from her back to her wrist, fingers locking around the hilt of her sword.