Chapter 2

"You broke into my apartment. You bled on my bed. And now you're giving orders?"

"Yes."

"Try again."

His eyes dropped to my blade. They were dark—deep enough to make the small room feel like it was closing in. "You have three minutes before the ward alarms bring every hunter on this block to your door."

I flicked a glance at the brass lock by the window. The tiny red sigil was already pulsing.

Dax gave a humorless smile. "Two minutes, fifty-four seconds."

"You set the alarms?"

"Your lock was garbage. I improved it."

"You trapped me in my own home?"

"I kept the people outside from coming in."

A heavy knock slammed against the front door.

"Mara Voss! Open up!" a man shouted. "By order of the City Memory Office!"

My grip tightened. The knife point hovered a breath from Dax's skin.

"You brought them here," I whispered.

"No. They followed me. There's a difference."

"That difference gets me dragged into a black van."

"Only if you open the door."

Another knock. The frame jumped.

Dax stood. He was on me before I could step back. His shoulder brushed mine, heat radiating through his coat. I caught the sharp scent of iron and something colder—burned cedar. With two fingers, he caught the blade in my hand and forced it down.

I slapped his wrist.

He caught my hand in a grip of iron. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make the point.

"Touch me again," I snapped, "and I'll put this one somewhere you can't ignore."

"You already did that last night."

"I cut your shoulder."

"You cut the curse under it."

His thumb pressed against my pulse. My skin prickled. It annoyed me more than the armed men outside.

"Let go."

"Tell me where the memory is."

"What memory?"

His fingers tightened. "The one you stole from the evidence box. The last ten seconds trapped in the brass watch."

The watch sat in my pocket. I could feel its hard edge pressing against my ribs.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You were seen leaving the crime scene."

"Half the city saw me leaving. I'm charming like that."

"Three people are dead, Mara. Their memories were ripped out before they died. You were at two of those scenes."

"And you were at all three."

The knock came again. Louder. Violent.

"Open the door, Mara!"

Dax leaned in. His breath hit the side of my face, warm and dangerous. "The City Office wants to erase you. I can stop them."

"And what do you want?"

"Access."

"To the watch?"

"To every locked memory you took."

I laughed. "You want me to hand over evidence so you can bury it?"

"I want to find the person killing witnesses before they kill you."

"You expect me to trust the man who broke into my room with a blade?"

"No. I expect you to trust the part where you stay alive."

The brass ward flashed a blinding red. A crack snapped through the room, and the front door shuddered in its frame.

Dax released my wrist and lunged for the contract knife.

I moved first.

My boot slammed into his knee. He dipped. I drove my elbow toward his jaw, but he twisted, catching me around the waist. My back hit the wall beside the bed with a sickening thud. Plaster crumbled against my skull.

"Get off me!"

"Stop fighting me!"

"You first!"

He pinned both my wrists above my head. His body blocked the door, the windows, every single exit. His face was inches from mine. A thin line of blood slid from his palm onto my sleeve.

The mark on my wrist burned.

I hissed, my body jerking.

Dax looked down. "You feel that?"

"I feel your blood on me."

"That's not my blood."

The black line under my skin curled tighter, forming a ring around my wrist. I'd assumed it was residue from the night before.

Dax's jaw locked.

"What did you do to me?" I demanded.

"Nothing. You did it when you broke the curse open."

"Convenient answer."

"The mark links your life to mine."

We froze. For one second, neither of us breathed.

Outside, the men started working the lock. Metal screeched.

I stared at him. "You're saying if you die, I die?"

"No."

"Then say the real part."

His gaze dropped to my mouth. Just for a second. He caught it. I caught it. His hand shifted against my wrist, his rough thumb dragging over the burning mark.

"If I die," he whispered, "you lose something every time the curse takes a breath. A memory first. Then a skill. Then your name."

"And if I run?"

"The mark tightens."

"You tested that?"

"I walked six blocks away from you."

"And?"

"It cut through my ribs."

"You survived."

"Barely."

He said it flatly, like he hated admitting it. That was the first crack in his armor.

I twisted my wrist. "So you need me close."

"I need you alive."

"That's not what I said."

"I heard you."

The lock screamed. Metal bent inward.

Dax looked toward the door. "They'll be inside in thirty seconds."

"Then go be terrifying somewhere else."

"You don't understand what they do to memory thieves."

"I know exactly what they do. They cut out the parts that make you inconvenient."

His expression shifted. A tiny pause. A harder set to his mouth.

There it was.

"You worked for them," I said.

"No."

"You know their methods. Their timing. You knew the alarms were coming before they knocked."

"I hunt people who use those tools."

"You used one on me last night."

"I put a blade against your throat. I didn't touch your memory."

"You still threatened to take it."

His eyes went cold. "You showed me a future where I was dead. You stood over my body with a knife in your hand. Don't act offended because I asked questions."

My stomach tightened. That image had been in the watch. Ten seconds of a future that shouldn't exist. My hand. Dax on the floor. His blood on my fingers.

I hadn't told him everything.

He knew enough anyway.

"I didn't kill you," I said.

"Not yet."

"You think I want to?"

"I think you keep lying about what you saw."

"Maybe I don't like being interrogated by a man who thinks a contract is a conversation."

"Maybe you don't have time to like anything."

The door cracked down the middle.

Dax shoved away from me and dove for the bed. He ripped a black metal case from beneath the mattress.

I stared. "You hid that under my bed?"

"You hid it. I found it."

"That's not better."

He flipped the case open. A silver band. A strip of red paper. A vial of dark liquid.

My throat went dry. "Absolutely not."

"You don't know what it is."

"It's a contract kit. I know the shape."

"A binding seal. Temporary. Seven days."

"No."

"It keeps the mark from eating your memories. It lets you open the locks without losing control."

"Still no."

"And it keeps the City Office from touching you."

I pointed at the door. "You brought them here!"

"They were already watching you."

"You don't get to turn arson into a favor."

He picked up the vial. "Drink this, and I give you the truth. Every victim. Every location. Every name."

"And the price?"

"You open the memories for me. And you stay within ten feet of me until the contract ends."

I barked a laugh. "You want me chained to you."

"I want you close enough that the curse can't reach through the mark."

"Same thing."

"Fine. Call it what you want."

The door gave another violent shake. A hand punched through the wood.

I took one step toward the case, then stopped. "What happens if I refuse?"

Dax didn't answer.

The mark did.

Pain snapped through my wrist and raced up my arm. I gripped the edge of the desk. A flash tore across my mind.

A yellow kitchen. A woman kneeling. Brown hair. A soft green sweater. A silver spoon in her hand.

Her face blurred before I could hold it. I knew that face. I knew the curve of her smile.

Then the mark burned again. The kitchen vanished.

I blinked. My fingers were locked around the desk so hard my nails hurt.

Dax had gone still. "What did it take?"

I looked at him. "Take what?"

His face lost all color. "Mara. Who was in the memory?"

I searched. Nothing. Not the hair. Not the sweater. I couldn't find the face. I couldn't even find her name.

Dax stepped toward me. "Who was she?"

"I don't know."

"You do."

"I said I don't know!"

My hand went to my forehead. "I had her. I knew her. Now I can't—"

Dax caught my shoulders. His palms were hot through my shirt. He leaned in, eyes locked on mine, and his control finally cracked.

"Look at me."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Look at me, Mara."

"Get your hands off—"

"What was her name?"

I shoved him, but he didn't budge. His grip tightened, holding me in place while the empty space in my head spread wider.

"I don't know!" I shouted. "I don't know her name! I don't know her face!"

The anger left his eyes. Something worse took its place.

Dax released me so fast I stumbled back. He looked at his hands as if they'd betrayed him.

"That was your mother," he said.

I stopped breathing. The room tilted.

"Don't," I whispered.

"Mara—"

"Don't say that unless you can prove it."

"You told me once. Years ago. You were drunk, half-starved, hiding in a stairwell. You kept saying you couldn't remember her face."

My knife rose again. "You've known me for years?"

"I've seen you work."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting right now."

"You knew my mother was locked in my memory, and you waited until your curse started eating it?"

His stare hardened, but the panic was still there. "I didn't know the mark could reach that deep."

"You said you knew curses."

"I know how to kill them. Not how to make one choose what you love."

I hated that he sounded honest. I hated that he looked at me like he wanted to put the memory back with his bare hands.

The door burst inward.

Dax moved before I could turn. He kicked the first man in the chest, sending him flying into the hall. A second man raised a memory pistol.

"Down!" Dax barked.

I dropped. Blue light cracked over my head and punched into the wall.

Dax crossed the room in two steps. He caught the man's arm, twisted, and drove him face-first into the doorframe.

The third man grabbed my coat from behind.

I slammed my head back. His nose cracked. He cursed and loosened his grip.

I spun, drove my knife into the wooden floor beside his hand, and smiled when he froze.

"Move," I said, "and you lose a finger."

"Memory thief," he spat.

"Very observant."

Dax threw the second man into the first. "Mara. The vial. Now."

"You don't get to order me around because you hit people better than I do."

"They'll call reinforcements."

"Then hit faster."

The third man lunged.

Dax caught him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. Plaster shook. Dax's forearm pressed across the man's throat, his voice dropping into something rough and dangerous.

"Tell the Office the mark is active."

The man choked. "They already know."

Dax's eyes sharpened. "Who sent you?"

"The seal—"

The man bit down. A black line spread across his tongue. His body jerked once, and he collapsed.

I stared. "You said they wanted me alive."

"The first team did."

"And the second?"

Dax looked at the dead man. "The second team wanted the evidence gone."

"Which makes me evidence."

"Now you understand the problem."

He shut the door with his boot and dragged the broken body toward the window.