Chapter 18 · The Price of Silence

"Don't touch me!"

Nessa screamed, scrambling backward until her spine slammed into the cold metal of her workbench.

I didn't move. I couldn't. I just stood there while the shadow monster loomed over her like a living inkblot, its finger pointed straight at her chest. The air tasted like ozone and old copper.

"Nessa, look at me," I said. My voice sounded thin. Pathetic. "What the hell is it talking about? What key?"

Nessa wouldn't even glance my way. She stared at the shadow, pupils blown wide. She looked like she was seeing a ghost—or a debt collector she couldn't pay off.

"I don't have anything!" she gasped. "I'm just a fixer, Mara. I move memories. I don't hold keys."

"Liar."

The voice didn't come from the monster. It came from behind me.

I spun. Dax was leaning against the doorframe, chest heaving. Blood stained his collar, dark and wet. He looked wrecked, but his eyes were sharp—too sharp. He wasn't looking at the monster. He was staring at Nessa with a clinical kind of hatred.

"You've been scrubbing the records for years, Nessa," Dax rasped.