Chapter 17 · My Face on a Piece of Paper

"Don't move." Kane's blade pressed under my jaw before I could take another step.

I stopped with one hand still raised. The other held the stolen key between two fingers. Kane stood less than a foot away, blocking the narrow passage. His coat was torn at the shoulder, his breathing rough, but his grip on the knife didn't shake.

Mine did. Not because of the blade.

Because the face staring back at me from the paper in his other hand was mine.

"You want to explain that?" he asked.

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

The edge slid a little higher. A warm line touched my skin.

"Careful."

"You're the one waving a knife around while bleeding on the floor. Maybe don't act like you're in charge."

His eyes narrowed. Blue, with that strange orange ring near the pupils. I'd seen those eyes across half the dungeon. Usually right before he tried to kill me.

Today, he looked tired enough to actually listen.

That was probably worse.

Kane snatched the key from my fingers and shoved it into his pocket. His knuckles brushed mine. Hot skin. Rough calluses.