Chapter 19 · The Echo of a Dead Man

"Get your hand off me, Dax!"

I screamed, scrambling backward until my spine slammed into the cold, damp wall of the vault.

He didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. He just stepped closer, heavy boots echoing on stone, pinning me into the corner with that suffocating presence. The air between us felt thick. Charged. It wasn't just anger—it was pure terror.

"That voice," I gasped, breath coming in jagged hitches. "It was you. Your voice, Dax. Why the hell did you just tell me you killed me?"

Dax didn't answer. He reached out and gripped my chin. Not soft. Not gentle. Just firm enough to force me to look him in the eye. His palm was hot against my freezing skin. I could smell the metallic tang of rain and old leather clinging to him.

"I didn't kill you," he rumbled, voice low and dangerous. "And I’m not the one talking from the shadows. Now shut up and look at the vault. If we don't figure out why there's a copy of me in here, neither of us is walking out."

"Oh, great plan," I snapped. I tried to jerk away, but he held tight.