Chapter 8 · The Dead Run

"Move your ass or we're both dead!" Evelyn's voice cracked through the roar of the neon district, her hand gripping the back of Kane's jacket and hauling him forward.

Kane didn't move. He couldn't. His boots skidded on the wet asphalt, and a searing bolt of pain shot up his leg. He looked back. Three elite mercs in matte-black tactical gear were closing in, their boots clicking in a rhythmic, terrifying cadence. They weren't running; they were hunting. They knew exactly where the soul-bound pair was headed.

"I can't—" Kane gasped, his breath coming in ragged bursts. "My leg is shot, Ev."

Evelyn spun around, her eyes flashing with a mix of panic and irritation. She didn't let go of his jacket. Instead, she yanked him closer, her chest nearly hitting his. "You don't get to stop. You're the one with the Forbidden Card. If they catch you, they'll rip it out of your chest while you're still breathing. Is that the plan?"

"Pretty sure I'd prefer that over being a human shield for you," Kane spat back, though he leaned into her, his weight shifting.

"Liar," she whispered, her grip tightening. "You like being the hero. Now get up."