Chapter 9 · Blood-Smeared Invite

"Get your damn hand off me!" Evelyn hissed, though she didn't actually pull away.

Kane had her pinned against the cold concrete of the service tunnel, his forearm pressing just enough into her shoulder to keep her still. Above them, the rhythmic thud of combat boots echoed through the vents. The kill-zone was shrinking.

"Shut up if you want to keep your tongue," Kane whispered. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating off his chest, smell the metallic tang of old blood and cheap cigarettes clinging to his jacket.

Evelyn glared at him, her chest heaving. Her expensive silk dress was torn at the hem, smeared with grease and grit. "You’re enjoying this, aren't you? The whole 'save the damsel' routine? Let's be clear, Kane—you're a Discard. A ghost. You're lucky I'm even letting you breathe the same air."

Kane leaned in, his voice a low vibration against her ear. "I'm the ghost who's keeping you from becoming a corpse. Now, do we move, or do I let the mercs find you in a very compromising position?"

She stiffened, her gaze flickering to his lips before she shoved him back with a sharp exhale. "Move. Now.