Chapter 22 · The First Hunt

"Keep the knife," Silas whispered.

The collar fired before I could stab him.

White heat snapped through my neck. My knees hit the metal floor, and the knife skidded under the console. Every muscle locked hard enough to hurt. I bit down on a scream and tasted blood.

Silas caught my shoulder before my face struck the floor.

"You said the code would open it," I forced out.

"I said the code would tell us what it wants."

"That sounds a lot like a lie."

His hand tightened. Warm fingers pressed through my jacket, holding me upright while the collar buzzed against my skin.

"You always did hate being corrected."

I laughed once. It came out rough. "I hate being owned more."

The collar pulsed again.

My vision jumped. The room split into three sharp copies of Silas: black coat, pale face, eyes fixed on me like I was a locked door he had spent years trying to break.

"Stop it," I said.

"Then stop fighting the command."

"What command?"

"The one you buried."

He dragged me back against the console. The metal edge dug into my spine.