Chapter 7 · Blood Baptism

"Do it, or I stop the drip right now."

Kael’s voice was a cold blade against my ear. He didn't move, didn't even raise his voice, but his hand was clamped tight on the back of my neck, forcing my head down. I could feel the heat of his palm through my skin, a stark contrast to the ice in his tone. My wrist was still locked in the metallic cuff of the serum injector, the slow, rhythmic hiss of the stabilizer keeping my nervous system from collapsing into a screaming heap.

I looked at the man on the floor. Silas. My mentor. The only person who had ever looked at me and seen something other than a weapon. He was bleeding out from a gut wound, his breathing ragged, his eyes clouded with a mixture of shock and a pity that made me want to vomit.

"You’re not going to do it, Vesper," Silas wheezed, a bubble of blood popping on his lip. "You're... too good for him."

"Shut up!" I screamed, the sound ripping through my throat.