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"Don't move."
Kane's hand clamped over my mouth before I could scream. The elevator doors slid open behind us, and the ballroom wasn't empty anymore.
Four men. Black tactical gear. Guns already drawn.
"Step away from the girl, Voss." The one in front had a scar running from his temple to his jaw. His voice was flat, bored, like he'd done this a hundred times. "EmberSaint wants a word."
Kane didn't let go. His palm was warm against my lips, his chest pressed against my back. I could feel his heartbeat—slow, steady, nothing like mine.
"You're interrupting," Kane said.
The scarred man smiled. "We're aware. Congratulations on the wedding. Now move."
"Who sent you?" I twisted against Kane's grip, but he held me tighter.
"She talks," another hunter said. He was younger, tattoos crawling up his neck. "Cute."
"Shut up, Reid." Scarface didn't look away from Kane. "Last chance, Voss. Step away, or we drag you both out."
Kane's hand dropped from my mouth. He stepped in front of me, blocking me from the guns. "You're in my building."
"Your building's got a nice open contract on you." Scarface tilted his head. "Fifty million if we bring you in breathing. Sixty if we bring proof you're not."
"Who's paying?"
"Does it matter?"
"It does to me," I said.
Kane shot me a look over his shoulder. "Stay quiet."
"Why? They're here for you, not me."
"They're here for both of us now." He turned back to the hunters. "She's not part of this."
"She signed the contract," Scarface said. "That makes her part of it. EmberSaint wants to know why a dead woman's daughter just married the beast king."
My blood went cold.
"What did you just say?"
"Evie." Kane's voice dropped, low and sharp. "Not now."
"No, I want to hear this." I stepped around him, ignoring the way his hand shot out to stop me. "How do you know my mother?"
Scarface grinned. "We don't. But Marcus Vale does. And he's very interested in meeting you."
Marcus Vale. CEO of EmberSaint. The man whose charity wing funded half the city's grid infrastructure. I'd tried to interview him three times for a corruption piece last year. He never answered.
"Tell Vale he can make an appointment," Kane said.
"He tried. You didn't show." Scarface raised his gun. "So now we're here."
Kane moved.
I didn't see him grab the first hunter. I just saw the man hit the floor, his gun skittering across the marble. The second one fired, but Kane was already behind him, one hand locked around his throat.
"Run," Kane growled at me.
I didn't.
The tattooed hunter—Reid—grabbed my arm and yanked me backward. I slammed my heel into his instep and he swore, but his grip didn't loosen.
"Feisty," he said. "Vale's gonna love you."
"Let go."
"Can't do that, sweetheart."
Kane roared.
Not a shout. Not a yell. A roar.
The sound hit me in the chest, vibrating through my ribs, and Reid's hand went slack. I stumbled forward, and Kane was there, pulling me against him.
"Don't touch her," he said.
His voice was wrong. Deeper. Rougher. And when I looked up, his eyes weren't brown anymore.
They were gold.
"Kane—"
"Get behind me."
"What's happening to you?"
"Evie." He shoved me toward the far door. "Go."
Scarface was back on his feet, blood dripping from his nose. "That's it. Let it out, Voss. Show her what you really are."
"Shut up," Kane said.
"Does she know?" Scarface grinned. "Does she know what happens when you lose control?"
"I said shut up."
"Does she know about the girl in Prague? The one you ripped apart?"
Kane lunged.
I grabbed his arm without thinking. His skin was burning, his muscles locked tight under my fingers. "Kane, don't—"
He stopped.
Just stopped. Mid-step. His whole body went rigid, and he looked down at my hand like he'd never seen it before.
"Let go," he said.
"No."
"Evie, let go."
"Not until you tell me what's happening."
His jaw clenched. The gold in his eyes flickered, and for a second I thought he was going to pull away. But then he looked past me, and his expression shifted.
"They're calling reinforcements," he said.
I glanced back. Scarface had a radio in his hand, barking coordinates into it. The other hunters were regrouping, weapons raised.
"We need to move," Kane said.
"Where?"
"Down."
He grabbed my wrist and ran.
We hit the service stairs at full speed, my heels clattering on the concrete. I kicked them off halfway down the first flight and kept going, Kane's hand locked around mine.
"Where are we going?" I gasped.
"The tunnels."
"The subway?"
"Lower."
We burst through a door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY and into a dim corridor lined with rusted pipes. The air was colder here, damp and metallic. Kane didn't slow down.
"Kane, stop—"
"Not yet."
"My brother. You said you'd tell me where he is."
"I will."
"When?"
"When we're not being hunted."
Behind us, the door slammed open. Boots on concrete. Shouts echoing down the corridor.
Kane yanked me into a side passage and pressed me against the wall, his body blocking mine. I could hear the hunters getting closer, their radios crackling.
"Don't move," Kane whispered. His breath was hot against my ear, his chest rising and falling against mine. "Don't make a sound."
I nodded. My wrist was still burning where he'd grabbed it, the mark from the contract glowing faint and red under my skin.
"What is this?" I whispered, holding up my wrist.
"Not now."
"It's glowing."
"I know."
"Is it supposed to do that?"
He looked down at the mark, and something shifted in his face. "No."
"Then what—"
Footsteps. Right outside the passage.
Kane's hand moved to the back of my neck, his fingers pressing into my hair. I froze. His eyes were still gold, still wrong, and up close I could see the veins in his neck standing out, dark lines running under his skin.
"Don't touch the blood," he said quietly.
"What blood?"
He nodded toward the wall behind me. I turned my head and saw it—a smear of something black and wet, trailing down the concrete.
"What is that?"
"Old."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting right now."
The footsteps passed. The shouts faded. Kane waited another ten seconds before he stepped back, his hand dropping from my neck.
"Come on," he said.
We moved deeper into the tunnels. The walls were older here, brick instead of concrete, slick with moisture. I could hear water dripping somewhere, and a low hum that felt like it was coming from inside my bones.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"Under the old market district. The city sealed these off in the fifties."
"Why?"
"Ask your mother."
I stopped walking. "What?"
Kane kept going. "She was down here. Three months before she died. Looking for something."
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"My mother was a lawyer. She didn't crawl around in tunnels."
He glanced back at me. "She did when Marcus Vale paid her to."
My stomach dropped. "No."
"Yes."
"You're saying my mother worked for EmberSaint?"
"I'm saying she worked for Vale. Then she found something he didn't want found, and she disappeared."
"She died in a car accident."
"That's what the report said."
I wanted to hit him. I wanted to scream. But all I could do was stand there, shaking, while he stared at me with those wrong gold eyes.
"Where's my brother?" I said.
"Close."
"How close?"
He nodded toward the end of the tunnel. "Through there."
We walked in silence. The hum got louder, and I started to see lights—dim, flickering, strung along the ceiling like someone had tried to make this place livable. The tunnel opened into a wider space, and I stopped.
Train tracks. Old ones, half-buried in debris. And across the tracks, sitting in the shadows, a freight car with the door chained shut.
"Is he in there?" I whispered.
Kane didn't answer.
I started toward the tracks, but he grabbed my arm. "Wait."
"For what?"
"Look."
I followed his gaze. On the other side of the freight car, just visible in the dim light, a man stood with a radio in his hand.
Scarface.
He smiled at me across the tracks. Then he raised the radio to his mouth and said, "We've got her brother. Come alone, or we start cutting pieces off."