Chapter 23 · The Dead Floor

“Step away from the girl, Adjudicator.”

Cael’s hand locked around my wrist before I could step anywhere. His fingers were cold, but his grip still had enough strength to hurt.

Three figures stood across the broken elevator platform. Black armor. White order marks. Rifles aimed straight at our chests.

The one in front lowered her visor just enough for me to see the scar cutting through her left eyebrow.

“Your quarantine window is open,” she said. “Hand over the ghost-tagged civilian.”

“Not happening,” Cael said.

The woman’s rifle shifted toward me. “That wasn’t a request.”

“Then you wasted the trip.”

I glanced at Cael. His face had gone pale after dragging me out of the borrowed body. A thin line of blood ran from his nose to his mouth. He didn’t wipe it away.

“Cute,” I whispered. “You’re threatening your old friends while bleeding on my shoes.”

“They’re not my friends.”

The woman’s mouth tightened. “You hear that, Draven? Still pretending you’re above the order?”

Cael pulled me behind him.

I shoved his shoulder. “Don’t use me as a shield.”

“You’re not a shield.”

“Then stop standing in front of me like one.”

His head turned a fraction.