Chapter 11 · Blood Debt

Ronan hit the tunnel wall hard enough to crack old tile.

The silver bolt was still buried under his ribs.

Smoke crawled off the wound in thin gray strings, and his hand was locked around the shaft like he was deciding whether pulling it out would kill him faster than leaving it there.

“Don’t,” Mara said.

His eyes snapped to hers. Too bright. Not Ronan-bright. Gold had eaten most of the dark out of them.

“I wasn’t planning to,” he said, except his voice came out rough and low, almost doubled. Like somebody bigger was trying to talk through him.

Behind them, steel boots slammed against the iron gate.

“Open it!” a hunter shouted. “By order of the Black Moon Council!”

Inez shoved both hands against the bent door Ronan had ripped half off its frame. “There’s a service passage on the other side. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Mara stared at her.

“It’s an old prison sewer, Mara. Nobody made me a map.”

Another hit shook rust loose from the ceiling. It rained over Ronan’s shoulders.

His jaw clenched.

The thing under his skin answered with a sound that was not human.

Mara moved before she thought about it.