Chapter 3

The girl on the ground looks exactly like me. Same face. Same scar on my left eyebrow I don't remember getting. Same eyes, wide and terrified. She's kneeling in the alley with her hands up, shaking.

"Please," she whispers. And it's my voice. "Please, I didn't do anything."

The city screams over us. Every screen on the street, every neon sign, every drone speaker flips to red at the same second.

"WARNING. GHOST CODE CARRIER DETECTED. SECTOR 9 LOCKDOWN INITIATED."

"Silas, what the hell is this?" I try to yank the gun away. He twists my wrist. Not hard enough to break it. Just hard enough to remind me he can.

"Your first hunt, pet," he says, calm, right against my ear. His breath hits my neck. My collar buzzes warm against my skin. "You wanted to know who you are? She's your answer. Pull the trigger and I'll tell you."

"She's a person!"

"She's a copy. A glitch wearing your face." His fingers tighten over mine. "You hesitate, the city hunters will be here in ninety seconds and they will shoot both of you. So choose."

Sirens rip the air. Heavy boots pound from both ends of the alley. Not cops. Cleaners. White armor, black visors. Silas's private dogs.

"Silas! Call them off!" I shout.

"I can't." He actually smiles. I can hear it in his voice. "The city AI flagged her. Not me. You have two options. You kill the Ghost Code and you live. Or you don't, and I watch them erase you both for contamination."

The girl — the other me — crawls toward me. Her hand grabs my ankle. Her fingers are ice cold.

"Don't let him make you do it," she begs. "My name is Hera. My name is Hera, please—"

My head splits. A flash, white hot, behind my eyes. Hera. That name. My name. But hearing it from her mouth feels like someone ripping a wire out of my brain.

"Stop!" I gasp.

Silas yanks me back, hard, chest to his chest. One second I'm holding a gun to a girl, the next I'm locked against him in the tiny decon box at the end of the alley. He slams the emergency door and it hisses shut, sealing us in. One meter by one meter. Just us. His body cages mine.

"Too many eyes," he mutters, looking at the camera feed on his wrist. The Cleaners flood the alley outside. Guns up, scanning. "They can't see us in here. But they will scan this box in sixty seconds."

"Let me go," I snarl and shove at his shoulders. He doesn't move. He's solid. He smells like cold metal and expensive cologne and it makes me want to bite him.

"You keep fighting me and we both die in here, Hera. Is that what you want?"

"You locked us in here!"

"I saved you. Again." His hand is still over mine, still holding the gun between us. The barrel is pressed against his stomach now, not hers. "You think I want to watch you get shredded by my own security? You think that's fun for me?"

"I think you love it," I spit. "You love watching me squirm."

His eyes drop to my mouth. Then back up. That slow, possessive look that makes my collar feel too tight.

"I love watching you fight," he says, low. "It's why I picked you."

The box lights flash red. A robotic voice counts down. "SCAN IN 30 SECONDS. REMAIN STILL."

"We have to make a deal," Silas says, fast now. All business. "Right now."

"I already signed your blood contract!"

"That was for ownership. This is for survival." He flicks his wrist and a holo-contract snaps open in the air between our faces, glowing. Tiny text scrolling. "Memory-link pact. You let me link your neural pattern to the hunt system. You get access to the Ghost Code network. You can track them, kill them. Every kill gives you back a piece of your memory. Real memory. Not what I tell you."

"And the price?" I snap. Because there's always a price with him.

"Each link burns a little. You lose time. An hour here, a day there. And if you break the link, if you run..." He taps my collar. It gives a sharp, warning pulse that makes my knees buckle. "I can fry your nervous system from anywhere in Orion. Or worse, I leave you blank. No name, no past, nothing. A pretty ghost."

"You're insane."

"I'm the only reason you're breathing." He leans in. His forehead almost touches mine. I can feel the heat coming off him. "Sign it, Hera. Or those Cleaners will open this box and find two Ghost Code carriers. You know what they do to carriers?"

Outside, I hear the girl scream. One short, cut-off scream.

"They're killing her!" I lunge for the door. Silas grabs my waist and hauls me back. My back hits his chest.

"They're not killing her. They're tagging her. If you don't sign, they tag you next. Sign. Now."

"Why do you need my permission at all? You own everything!"

"Because the system won't take a slave. It needs a hunter who chooses to hunt." His voice drops, almost soft, dangerous. "So choose. Be my hunter. Or be nothing."

The scan warning hits ten seconds. "SCAN IN 10 SECONDS."

My hand is shaking. His hand covers it, steady. Warm. Possessive.

"Say yes," he whispers. "Say you want it."

"I hate you," I whisper back.

"I know. Sign anyway."

I slam my thumb onto the glowing contract. It burns. A sharp sting shoots up my arm to the base of my skull. I cry out.

"Good girl," Silas breathes. His thumb strokes once over my knuckles. I want to rip my hand away and I want to hold on because I'm dizzy and he's the only solid thing.

The holo-contract flashes green. "LINK ESTABLISHED. HUNTER HERA REGISTERED."

The box door hisses and unlocks. The alley is empty. The Cleaners are gone. The girl — the other me — is gone. Only a scorch mark on the ground where she knelt.

Silas doesn't let go of me. He pulls me out, keeps me close, his hand still locked over mine on the gun. And there she is. They didn't take her. They moved her. She's standing ten feet away, held between two Cleaners, a knife to her throat — not a gun, a stupid old-fashioned blade — held by a Cleaner whose visor is up. It's Kane.

Kane. The name hits me from nowhere. Rebel leader. The guy from the posters. Scar on his chin.

"Silas!" Kane shouts, eyes wild. "Tell your dogs to stand down! She's not a Code, she's a kid!"

Silas laughs, cold. "She's a carrier, Kane. You know the protocol."

"She's seventeen!" Kane's blade shakes. He's not going to kill her. He's trying to protect her from Silas.

And Silas — Silas shoves the gun back into my hand, wraps his fingers over mine, and drives my arm forward, aiming the blade in Kane's hand? No. Aiming my blade? Wait — we both have a blade now. My hunting knife, the one Silas just materialized into my palm when I signed. It's in my hand, his hand over it, inches from the girl's chest.

Kane's hand is there too, holding the same girl, holding her back from the blade.

Three hands. One knife. One heart.

"Do it," Silas whispers in my ear, his chest pressed to my back, his heat all over me. "Kill the copy. Prove you chose me. Or watch Kane die trying to save her. Your call, hunter."

"Don't," Kane begs me, looking straight at me. Not at Silas. At me. "Hera, don't listen to him. You don't know what you are—"

"She knows exactly what she is," Silas cuts in, his grip tightening until my bones grind. "Mine."

I pull. He pulls. Kane pulls. The blade hangs an inch from her heart, shaking, catching the red neon light. The girl sobs, my face, my tears.

"Let go of me," I hiss at Silas, but he doesn't, his fingers laced through mine, his mouth at my temple, and—