"Sit still or I’ll stitch your mouth shut along with your ribs," the doc snapped, his voice like gravel grinding in a blender.
He shoved a jagged needle into the gap between Kane’s ribs. Kane didn't flinch. He couldn't. Every breath felt like swallowing broken glass, and the air in the clinic smelled of ozone and rotting meat.
Evelyn stood two feet away, her arms crossed, watching him with a look that hovered somewhere between pity and disgust. She was still wearing that high-fashion coat, now stained with street grime and someone else's blood.
"How bad is it?" she asked.
"Bad?" The doc stepped back, wiping his hands on a rag that had seen better decades. "He’s not even a person anymore. He’s a walking corpse with a glitch in his chest. That Forbidden Card didn't save him—it just put him on a timer."
Kane let out a sharp, wet cough. He looked down at his chest. Under the skin, a faint, rhythmic violet light pulsed. It wasn't a heartbeat. It was a countdown.
"Explain it in English, Doc. Not medical school," Kane rasped.
"Your soul is fragmented, kid. Most people have a solid core. You? You’ve got holes. Big ones. The bond you formed with this girl is the only thing plugging the leaks. But it’s a temporary patch. Every time you use your power, the clock ticks faster."
Evelyn stepped closer. The scent of expensive perfume and gunpowder hit Kane’s senses. She reached out, her fingers hovering just an inch from the glowing mark on his skin. The heat radiating from her was a contrast to the chill settling in his bones.
"And if the clock hits zero?" she whispered.
"Then he pops," the doc said simply. "Not like a balloon. More like a soul-bomb. He’ll erase himself, and since you two are soul-bound, you’ll probably take a good chunk of this neighborhood with him."
Kane looked at Evelyn. Her eyes widened. For the first time, the heiress looked genuinely rattled. She didn't pull away, though. Instead, she leaned in, her breath warm against his neck, her voice dropping to a dangerous, low hum.
"So we're stuck," she murmured. "I can't dump you without blowing up the city, and you can't leave me without dying in ten minutes."
"Sounds like a romantic comedy," Kane joked, though it came out as a wheeze.
"Shut up," she snapped, but her hand finally landed on his chest.
Her palm was small, but the grip was firm. The moment she touched him, a jolt of electricity surged through Kane’s spine. It wasn't just power—it was a memory. A flash of a gold-plated room, the smell of expensive cigars, and a voice that made his blood turn to ice.
*Marcus.*
Kane gripped her wrist, his fingers digging into her soft skin. He pulled her closer, forcing her to look him in the eye. The power imbalance shifted. He was the dying man, but he had the one thing she didn't: the knowledge of how to hunt.
"You want out of your family's shadow, right?" Kane asked, his voice gaining strength. "You want to stop being a chip in your father's game?"
Evelyn didn't blink. "I want to burn the game down."
"Then we need the shards," Kane said. "My soul wasn't just stolen. It was sliced. Marcus and the others—they didn't just take my rank. They took pieces of me. If I find them, if I rip those shards back out of their chests, I can reset the clock."
Evelyn narrowed her eyes. "And you think you can actually kill them? You can barely stand."
"I don't need to stand to kill a man," Kane replied. He let go of her wrist, but the lingering warmth of her skin stayed with him. "I just need to know where they are."
Evelyn sighed, stepping back and regaining her composure. She pulled a slim, encrypted tablet from her inner pocket. Her movements were precise, a remnant of the breeding and training she claimed to hate.
"My father’s network is extensive," she said, tapping the screen. "Marcus isn't just some rogue hunter. He’s a favorite of the Syndicate. He’s got protection, money, and a taste for the forbidden. He doesn't hide in the sewers."
"Where is he?"
"He’s playing the long game," Evelyn said, sliding the tablet toward Kane. "But he has a weakness. He’s obsessed with the very thing he stole from you. He collects soul-fragments like they’re vintage wine."
Kane stared at the screen. A map of the Neon District flickered to life. One point was highlighted in a deep, bruised purple.
"The Velvet Void," Kane whispered. "His private club."
"It’s a fortress," Evelyn warned. "Biometric locks, soul-scanners, and guards who can smell a Discard from three blocks away. You can't just walk in there."
Kane leaned back against the grimy wall, a grim smile touching his lips. "Who said I was walking in?"
Evelyn looked at him—really looked at him. The desperation in his eyes was matched only by the sheer, stubborn will to survive. She felt the bond between them thrum, a tether of shared fate that neither of them had asked for, but both were starting to rely on.
"I can get us through the front door," she said, her voice softening just a fraction. "But the moment we're inside, you're on your own. I'm not getting caught in the crossfire of your revenge fantasy."
"Deal," Kane said.
"One more thing," Evelyn added, stepping into his space again. This time, she didn't stop until her chest was almost brushing his. She reached up, her thumb grazing the line of his jaw, a gesture that was half-threat, half-promise. "If you die before we get that shard, I'm going to find a way to bring you back just so I can kill you myself for making me do all the work."
Kane didn't pull away. He leaned into her touch, his gaze dropping to her lips for a split second before meeting her eyes again. "I'll try to stay alive for the pleasure of it."
She pulled her hand away sharply, as if burned. "Get dressed. We leave in ten."
As she turned to walk out, the doc cleared his throat. "Hey, kid."
Kane looked up.
"The bond... it's not just plugging the holes," the doc said, his expression grave. "It's merging you. If you stay bound for too long without recovering your shards, you won't just be sharing a life. You'll be sharing thoughts. Feelings. Everything. You'll become two halves of one broken thing."
Kane watched Evelyn disappear through the door. He could still feel the phantom pressure of her hand on his jaw.
"Great," he muttered. "Just what I needed. A roommate in my head."
He stood up, his legs shaking, and grabbed his jacket. He checked the hidden pocket where his last remaining card sat—the Forbidden one. It felt hot to the touch, humming with a hunger that mirrored his own.
He followed Evelyn out into the rain-slicked alley, the neon signs of the city bleeding colors into the grey smog. He could feel the clock ticking in his chest. Each second was a heartbeat he didn't own.
They reached her sleek, matte-black hover-car. Evelyn opened the door and slid in, not waiting for him. Kane climbed in beside her, the interior smelling of leather and something sharp, like ozone.
"You sure about this?" she asked, her hand on the ignition. "Once we hit the Void, there's no turning back. My father will know the moment I breach the perimeter."
"I've been dead once already," Kane said. "I'm not afraid of a little noise."
Evelyn slammed the car into gear, the engine roaring as they shot toward the heart of the district. As the towering spires of the Velvet Void came into view, Evelyn’s face went pale.
"Wait," she said, her voice suddenly tight. "I forgot something."
"What?"
"Marcus didn't just buy a security system," she whispered, looking at the shimmering dome of the club. "He installed a soul-scanner. A military-grade one. It doesn't just check IDs—it reads the frequency of your core."
Before Kane could respond, a piercing, red alarm suddenly wailed from the club's entrance, and a massive holographic beam swept across the street, locking directly onto Kane's chest with a blinding, crimson light.