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"Get your head down! Now!" Vivian’s voice didn't just command; it shoved me.
Before I could blink, her hand clamped onto the back of my jacket and slammed me face-first into the cracked pavement. A split second later, a beam of concentrated plasma tore through the air where my skull had been, vaporizing a chunk of the concrete wall behind us. The heat singed the tips of my hair.
"What the hell was that?" I shrieked, my cheek pressed against the grit.
"City-grade containment bots," Vivian snapped. She didn't let go of my collar. She dragged me backward, her grip tight and bruising, until we were shielded by the wreckage of an overturned transit bus. "The signal flare from your little gravity stunt just lit up the whole sector. You didn't just fight a hero, you rang a dinner bell for every Peacekeeper drone in a five-mile radius."
I scrambled up, coughing on dust. "I was just—I didn't think they'd actually send the bots!"
"That's the problem with you amateurs," Vivian said, her eyes scanning the skyline. She looked breathtakingly calm, which only made me more annoyed. "You play with powers you don't understand, and then you expect the city to just ignore the seismic readings. Now look at us."
I looked. Three more drones were descending, their red optic sensors locking onto our position. They weren't just patrolling; they were hunting. And since I was the one who’d triggered the alert, I was the primary target.
"We have to move," she ordered.
"Move where?" I gestured wildly at the open plaza. "They've got us pinned!"
Vivian stepped closer, her shoulder brushing mine. The scent of ozone and something like vanilla drifted off her—a strange, clean smell for someone in the middle of a war zone. She reached out, her fingers grazing my wrist, and for a second, I forgot the robots.
"Trust me," she whispered. "Or don't. But if you want to keep your head attached to your neck, you'll do exactly what I say."
She didn't wait for an answer. She grabbed my hand—fingers interlocking with a firmness that left no room for argument—and yanked me toward a narrow service alley.
"Wait! My bag!" I yelled, glancing back at my dropped gear.
"Forget the bag!" she yelled back, nearly knocking me over as she pivoted into a sharp turn.
We sprinted, the sound of metallic screeching following us. The drones were faster, but Vivian knew the city's guts. She led me through a series of jagged shortcuts, our breathing heavy and synchronized. Every time I stumbled, her grip tightened, pulling me back up. It was infuriating. I was supposed to be the menacing villain, the gravity-warping disaster. Instead, I was being led around like a lost puppy by the girl I was paid to kill.
We skidded into a damp basement vault, the heavy iron door slamming shut with a boom that echoed in my teeth. Silence fell, thick and heavy.
I ripped my hand away, leaning against the cold wall. "I can handle myself, you know."
Vivian didn't look at me. She was busy checking a handheld scanner. "Right. That's why you almost got your brain fried by a Mark-IV drone. You're a liability, Fallstar."
"I'm not—" I stopped. I couldn't say *I'm not a villain*. "I just got unlucky."
"Luck doesn't exist in this city," she said, finally turning to face me. She stepped into my space, the distance vanishing until I could feel the warmth radiating off her. She was shorter than me, but in this cramped room, she felt like she owned every inch of the air. "You're shaking."
"I'm not shaking," I lied, though my knees were practically vibrating.
Vivian tilted her head, her gaze dropping to my neck. I instinctively pulled my collar up, hiding the metallic ring of the contract collar. If she saw that, the game was over. The collar didn't just track me; it owned me.
"You're hiding something," she murmured. Her voice had dropped an octave, losing the 'Golden Hero' polish. It sounded raw. Real. "Who are you actually working for? Because no low-level thug has gravity manipulation this precise. You're either a prodigy or a puppet."
"Maybe I'm just better than you think," I shot back, trying to regain some ground. I stepped forward, closing the gap, my chest nearly touching hers. It was a gamble—a desperate attempt to flip the power dynamic. "Why do you care? You're the hero. Just cuff me and call it a day."
Vivian didn't flinch. She didn't even blink. Instead, she leaned in closer, her lips inches from my ear. I could feel her breath, a warm contrast to the damp chill of the vault.
"Because I hate puppets," she whispered. "And I hate seeing someone with actual talent waste it on a suicide mission."
She pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. The intensity there was suffocating. For a moment, the rivalry, the contract, and the drones outside vanished. There was just this—this electric, dangerous tension that made my heart hammer against my ribs like a trapped bird.
"Stay," she said. It wasn't a command this time. It was almost a plea. "Stay here for a minute. Let the drones cycle out. If you run now, you're dead."
I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell her to go to hell. But the way she was looking at me—like I was the only thing in the room that mattered—made the words die in my throat.
"Fine," I muttered, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. "But I'm not doing this because I like you."
Vivian let out a short, dry laugh. She sat down beside me, not leaving any space between us. Our thighs pressed together, the fabric of her suit rubbing against my jeans. The contact sent a jolt through me that had nothing to do with gravity powers.
"Sure you aren't," she said.
We sat in silence for a few minutes, the distant hum of the city still audible above us. I watched her profile—the sharp line of her jaw, the way her eyes never stopped scanning the door. She was perfect. Too perfect. It made me want to break something. Or maybe it made me want to be the only person who saw her break.
"You know," I said, my voice sounding small in the vault. "The pay for this job is actually kind of decent."
Vivian turned to me, a smirk playing on her lips. "Is that all you're doing this for? Rent money?"
"Rent is expensive in Halcyon," I grumbled.
She laughed again, a real one this time. "You're the weirdest villain I've ever chased."
"I'm a delight," I retorted.
She reached out, her hand hovering near my face for a second before she tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. Her fingertips were cool, but where they touched, my skin felt like it was on fire. I froze, my breath catching. The air between us thickened, heavy and sweet, pulling us inward.
I started to lean in, just a fraction, my eyes dropping to her lips. I didn't know what I was doing. I just knew I wanted to know if she tasted like vanilla and ozone.
*Bzzzt.*
I jolted backward as a sharp, searing pain exploded around my neck. I gasped, clutching at my collar as the metal ring flared a violent, neon red.
"What happened?" Vivian asked, her expression instantly shifting back to hero mode. She reached for me, her hand gripping my shoulder. "Are you hurt?"
I couldn't answer. The collar wasn't just burning; it was vibrating, sending a rhythmic pulse of agony through my nerves. I knew that signal. It wasn't a warning. It was a directive.
Vivian's eyes narrowed. She noticed the glow beneath my collar. "What is that?"
Before I could lie, her hand moved with blinding speed, flicking the collar of my shirt open. The red light of the contract ring stared back at her, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Vivian's face went cold. The warmth was gone. The tenderness vanished.
"A handler's mark," she whispered, her grip on my shoulder tightening until it hurt. "You're not a freelancer. You're owned."
She didn't let go. Instead, she reached into her belt and clipped a small, silver name tag onto the lapel of my jacket—a tracking beacon.
"Now we're playing a different game," she said, her voice like ice.
At that exact moment, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out with shaking hands. A new notification from Silas Vane was flashing on the screen.
**[NEW CONTRACT: TARGET VIVIAN CROSS. STATUS: ELIMINATE. REWARD: 50,000 CREDITS. TIME LIMIT: 24 HOURS.]**
Underneath the text, a countdown timer began to tick.
23:59:59.
23:59:58.
I looked up at Vivian. She was still holding me, her eyes searching mine, unaware that I now had a literal price tag on her head.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, her voice softening just a fraction. "Tess?"