Chapter 35 · The Hold Light

"You don't get to sign me off a building I bled for." I slapped the torn appendix pages down on the steel table, right next to the pen he was already holding. "Not without my name on it."

Torin didn't look up. The notary — some kid from the league office with a clipboard and a face like he wanted to be anywhere else — froze halfway through uncapping his stamp.

"Your name's not on it," Torin said. "That's the point."

The pump room hummed around us, that low mechanical growl that never stops, cold air biting through the grates and straight through my jacket. My knuckles were still raw from tearing the appendix out of the master contract an hour ago — the page that made me his wife on paper, seven home games, one roof, or the pension eats itself. I'd ripped it because I thought that was the trap. Turns out the trap had a second door.

"Explain it to me slow," I said.