Chapter 5 · The Bone Sings Back

"Cut deeper or I die on this table, doctor. Your choice." Julian's fingers locked around my wrist, cold as hell, and shoved the scalpel down toward his own chest.

"You're gonna kill yourself," I snapped. "That's not a vein, that's bone. That's plague."

"And you're stalling." His breath hit my face. Hot. Shaky. He was trying not to show it, but his whole body was vibrating. "You think I brought you here for a band-aid? Cut."

The guards by the door didn't move. The marble slab under him was already stained. And my hand — my hand was shaking inside his grip.

This was insane. This was surgery on a live wire.

Julian's skin from his collarbone to his ribs had gone ivory. Not pale. Ivory. Hard, smooth, like polished bone pushing up through flesh. You could see the veins underneath turned white. And it was humming. Low. Like a fridge about to blow.

"Julian, listen to me. If I go through the cortex wrong, the resonance will spike. Your heart will stop."

"Then my heart stops," he said, and his eyes never left mine. Grey, pissed off, way too close. "But you don't get to walk out of here saying you tried. You cut. Now."

He had me. Legally, literally. The writ on his desk said I was his property until the plague was cured or he was dead. If he died on this table, the house guard would put a bullet in my head for murder. If I refused, he'd have me flayed for disobedience. No win.

"Fine," I hissed. "But you don't grab my hand. You don't move. You breathe when I tell you. Got it?"

"Don't give me orders, Kael."

"I'm giving you an order because you're about to bleed out on my watch. Don't. Move."

Something flickered in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or he liked it when I pushed back. His grip loosened, just a fraction. His thumb brushed the inside of my wrist — cold, deliberate — before he let go.

"Do it," he whispered.

I pressed the scalpel to the edge of the ivory plate.

The bone sang.

Not metaphorically. It actually made a sound when the steel touched it. A high, thin whine, like feedback. Julian's back arched off the slab.

"Ah — fuck!" He bit down on his own lip so hard blood welled. His hands fisted the sheets. "Keep going."

"I'm barely touching you!"

"I said keep going!"

I cut.

The ivory gave with a crack. Not like skin. Like a shell. A thin line of dark blood welled, then something else — a clear, vibrating fluid. And the sound got louder.

It wasn't coming from his mouth. It was coming from inside the bone.

"Do you hear that?" I said. My voice sounded weird to my own ears. Thin.

"Hear what?" Julian gritted out. Sweat was pouring down his temples now. "Just the pain, doctor. Just cut."

"No. No, listen."

I leaned in, scalpel hovering. The whine resolved. Into voices.

God. Voices.

Layered, screaming, whispering, all at once. Like a crowd trapped in a pipe. Men, women, kids. Begging. Crying. One was just screaming a name over and over.

"Make it stop," Julian choked. His eyes were blown wide, staring at the ceiling. "Kael, make it stop, it's too loud—"

"You hear them too?"

"I've heard them for months!" he shouted, and for the first time his alpha asshole mask cracked completely. He looked terrified. Young. "Every night. Every time the bone spreads. They don't stop. They never stop. That's why I need you to cut it out!"

His hand shot up and grabbed my collar, yanking me down until our foreheads almost touched. His breath was ragged against my mouth. His skin was burning hot around the cold ivory.

"You said you could fix this," he breathed. "You said you were the best. So fix it. Or are you just another hack who watched his sister die and learned nothing?"

That hit like a slap.

"Don't you say her name," I snarled, shoving his hand off. "Don't you ever talk about her."

"Why? Because you failed her?" His fingers found my throat now, not squeezing, just holding. Possessive. Pinning me in place. "You're here because you failed. I'm your second chance. So cut deeper and prove you're not useless."

I should have punched him. I wanted to. But his pulse was hammering under my palm where I was braced against his chest, and the screaming in the bone was getting louder the deeper I went.

I cut again. Deeper.

The sound exploded.

It wasn't just hearing anymore. It was feeling. The vibration shot up the scalpel into my bones, into my teeth. My vision went white at the edges. The dead were screaming right through him, using his ribs as a speaker.

"Kael!" Julian shouted, but his voice sounded far away. "Kael, your nose — you're bleeding!"

I was. I could taste copper. But I couldn't stop. Something in the noise was pulling me in. Like a frequency I knew.

Then — clear as day, under all the screaming — a single voice cut through.

Soft. Small. Familiar in a way that stopped my heart.

"Kael?"

No.

"No," I whispered. "No, no, no—"

"What?" Julian's grip on my throat tightened. "What do you hear? Tell me!"

I couldn't breathe. The scalpel was buried a half-inch into his chest, right at the edge of the humming bone, and the voice was coming from inside the cavity.

"Kael, it hurts—"

Lyra.

My sister. Dead three years. Plague took her when she was nine. I held her while she turned to stone. I heard that exact whine when her little ribs went ivory.

"Lyra?" I choked out. My hand started to shake violently. "Lyra, is that you?"

Julian went completely still. His eyes snapped to mine, sharp, calculating even through the pain. His thumb pressed harder into my throat, feeling my pulse spike.

"Who's Lyra?" he said, low and dangerous. "Who are you talking to inside my body?"

The bone hummed louder, and the voice came again, clearer, like she was right there under the skin.

"Kael, don't let them—"

The rest cut off into static and screaming.

"Answer me," Julian hissed. He sat up halfway, ignoring the blood running down his chest, ignoring the scalpel still in his flesh. He dragged me closer until his forehead pressed to mine, his cold fingers locked around my throat, his breath mixing with mine. "Who the hell is in my bones, Kael? And why does she know your name? Don't you dare stop cutting—"