Chapter 6 · Patient Zero

"Sit down and shut up, or I'll have the guards stitch your lips together."

Sloane didn't even look at me. She was staring at the black parchment on the table, knuckles white, breathing jagged. The air in the inner sanctum was vibrating—heavy, electric, the kind of tension that usually ended in a bloodbath.

I didn't sit. I leaned against the cold stone pillar and crossed my arms. "Pretty sure that's not in my contract. Also, the stitching part? Redundant. I'm already not talking to the people who want me dead."

Sloane snapped.

One blur of shadow and she was across the room. Her hand slammed into my chest, pinning me against the pillar with enough force to knock the wind out of me. Her face was inches from mine. Her eyes glowed with a lethal, flickering violet light. I could smell ozone and old rain—the scent of her magic.

"You think this is a game?" she hissed. Her voice dropped to a guttural whisper. "The Order isn't asking, Julian. They're purging. Every shadow soldier under my command—men and women who bled for this city—will be executed if you aren't handed over by dawn.