Long-press a paragraph to send danmaku
"You have ten seconds to tell me where the children are." Draven shoved Wren against the station wall, one hand locked around her wrist and the other braced beside her head.
His tether cuff burned between them. Every pulse from his skin jumped through the metal and struck her bones.
Wren bared her teeth. "Move your hand."
"Ten."
"You dragged me into this station. You sealed the doors. You said nobody followed us."
"Eight."
"And now you want me to believe the hunters found the kids because I misplaced a damn map?"
His gray eyes cut toward the inner corridor. The station's old alarm lamps flashed red over his face. His coat was torn at the shoulder, and black veins crawled beneath the skin of his throat.
The rot was getting worse.
So was the sound in her wrist.
Three faint heartbeats tapped through the bond from somewhere below the station. Three quick, terrified rhythms. The youngest child was trying not to cry. Wren knew that beat. She had carried Mara out of a burning tenement two winters ago. She had taught Jace how to sharpen a spoon into a weapon. She had promised all of them that hunters would never find their door.
She had lied.
"Six," Draven said.
Wren slammed her forehead into his nose.
He grunted and loosened his grip for half a second. She twisted free, drove an elbow into his ribs, and kicked the back of his knee.
Draven caught her ankle before she could run.
"Five."
"Go to hell."
"Gladly. I have a route planned."
He yanked her forward. Her shoulder hit his chest, hard enough to knock the breath out of her. His arm wrapped around her waist before she could bring up a knee. Heat soaked through his shirt. His breath brushed her ear.
"You break the bond," he said, low and rough, "and I lose the only thing keeping the rot from reaching my heart."
Wren went still.
"That was your plan, wasn't it?" His fingers tightened against her side. "Cut me loose. Run downstairs. Leave me here for the Combine."
"If I wanted you dead, I would have let the purge blast finish the job."
"You screamed my name when it hit me."
Her face heated. "I screamed because you got in the way."
"You screamed, Draven. Not hunter."
"Don't make that sound important."
"It was important to me."
The words landed harder than his grip.
Wren shoved against him. "Let go."
"Tell me where they are."
"The lower vault. Behind the old water tanks."
His hold eased, but he did not release her. "How many exits?"
"Two. One opens into the rail tunnels. The other goes through the loading bay."
"Which one did your people use?"
"My people?" Wren laughed without humor. "You mean the children you were planning to hand over?"
His jaw flexed. "I never said that."
"You didn't have to. You wore the Combine crest into their home."
"And I took the crest off before I crossed the threshold."
"That should make them feel better while the city hunts them."
Draven finally let go. Wren stumbled back, rubbing her wrist. The tether cuff stayed locked around both of them, its thin chain bright under the alarm lights.
He reached for the station map pinned beside the control box.
Wren slapped his hand away. "You don't get to lead them."
"Then lead me."
"I don't need you."
"Your bond disagrees."
The cuff pulsed. Pain shot up Wren's arm, sharp and hot. Draven felt it too. His shoulders jerked, and he caught the wall with one hand.
A distant boom rolled through the station.
Dust dropped from the ceiling.
Someone outside shouted, "Combine! Open the doors!"
Wren's stomach twisted.
Draven looked at her. "How long?"
"If they brought a breach hammer? Two minutes."
"If they brought a spark sniffer?"
"Less."
"Then stop arguing and move."
"You don't command me."
He stepped close again, crowding her against the map. His body blocked the red light and left his face half-shadowed. He smelled like metal, smoke, and the bitter herbs she had pressed against his wounds after the purge blast.
"I command the door," he said. "I command the hunters outside. And right now, I am the only reason they haven't turned this station into a grave. You want the children alive? Stay close enough for the bond to work."
Wren stared at his mouth for one stupid second.
Then she shoved the map into his chest. "Touch them, and I will make the rot look like a mild inconvenience."
A thin smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. "There she is."
"What does that mean?"
"You were starting to look worried."
"I am worried. I am worried you will slow me down."
"Keep telling yourself that."
The outer doors shook again. Metal screamed against metal.
Wren spun toward the lower corridor. Draven caught the chain before it snapped tight and pulled her back.
"Not that way," he said.
"The kids are that way."
"The hunters know that."
"How?"
He pointed at the control box. A small amber light blinked beside the station map. "The inner lock was opened from inside."
Wren stared at it.
"No," she said.
"Someone let them in."
"The kids would never do that."
"I didn't say one of them did."
"You think I have a traitor in my home?"
"I think the Combine found a place that isn't on any public grid, crossed three dead checkpoints, and arrived before we did. So yes. I think someone talked."
Wren grabbed his collar. "Say that again."
"Someone talked."
She pulled him down until their faces were inches apart. His breath touched her lips. The chain between their wrists trembled.
"You brought the hunters here," she whispered.
"If I had, you would already be in a cage."
"Maybe this is your cage. Maybe you want me to walk into it with you."
"Then why are the hunters calling for me too?"
Another voice thundered through the sealed doors. "Hunter Kessler! Step away from the Current-blooded woman and surrender!"
Wren's grip on his collar loosened.
Draven looked almost amused. "See? They are having a bad night too."
"They know your name."
"They know my rank."
"They know I'm Current-blooded."
His expression hardened. "I know."
"How?"
"Your wrist lit up in front of the commander. The whole city saw it."
The old station floor shuddered. Somewhere below them, a child whimpered through the bond.
Wren pushed away from Draven. "No. No, no, no."
"Wren."
"Don't say my name like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you already know how this ends."
"I know how the Combine ends it."
He caught her wrist when she reached for the lower corridor door. His palm covered the inside of her forearm, warm and steady against the frantic beat there.
"You go alone, they track the bond and take you before you reach the vault," he said. "You take me, they follow both of us."
"So I cut it."
"And I die."
"You said it slows the rot. You didn't say it kills you."
"I didn't have time for a medical lecture while you were stealing my cuffs."
"You chained me to yourself."
"Because you were running."
"I was saving lives."
"So am I."
Wren looked down at their joined wrists. The ancient mark under her skin glowed gold, then darkened. Draven's mark answered it with a thin line of red.
The bond had no release clasp. No hidden latch. No spark-crystal key.
She had tried burning it. Cutting it. Holding her breath until the pain blurred her vision. Every time, the bond had dragged her heartbeat back into his.
Now it was carrying the children's fear too.
"We split," she said. "You draw the hunters to the loading bay. I get the kids through the rail tunnel."
"No."
"That wasn't a request."
"The rail tunnel collapsed last year."
"Half of it."
"The other half is full of patrol drones."
"Then you can shoot the drones. You seem good at that."
"And you seem good at walking into traps."
"I have survived every trap so far."
"You survived because I was there."
Wren stepped closer. "You want credit? Fine. You saved me from the purge blast. You put your body between me and a weapon designed to kill my blood. You carried me through half the city while pretending you could still breathe. Happy?"
His gaze dropped to her mouth again.
"No," he said. "Not happy."
The answer stole her next insult.
Outside, a lock detonated. The station doors bowed inward. A strip of white light appeared around the frame.
Draven turned toward it. "We have ninety seconds."
"You said two minutes."
"I was being optimistic."
"You? Optimistic?"
"Don't spread it around. Ruins my reputation."
He pulled a short blade from his boot and cut the chain on a hanging control panel. Wires sparked. The red lamps died, plunging the station into dim emergency light.
Wren caught his sleeve. "What are you doing?"
"Killing the cameras."
"The cameras are dead."
"Then why are you asking?"
"Because you keep doing things without telling me."
"You keep trying to leave me behind."
"Because you're a hunter."
"And you're a smuggler with illegal magic in her blood. We both have reasons to distrust each other."
"You forgot liar."
"I didn't forget. I was being polite."
She almost smiled. The feeling vanished when another heartbeat jolted through the cuff.
Mara.
Wren pressed her fingers to the metal. "She's awake."
"Can you reach her?"
"Not with words. I can feel them."
"Then feel for the exits."
"That's not how it works."
"You make sparks out of air, but sensing three terrified children is where you draw the line?"
"You want to insult me or help me? Pick one."
"I picked help. You keep making it difficult."
He dragged a torn metal crate in front of the lower door. Wren shoved it aside.
"That will not stop them."
"It isn't supposed to."
"Then what is it for?"
"Noise. When they move it, we hear them."
He pulled a pistol from his belt and checked the chamber. The motion was smooth, practiced, and too close to the version of him she had hated from the beginning.
Wren's hand tightened around the small spark crystal in her pocket.
Draven noticed. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Burn through the door. The feedback will hit the bond."
"It might hit you."
"It will hit both of us."
"Then keep up."
She raised the crystal.
Draven caught her hand and pressed it against the wall above her head. His fingers closed around hers, pinning the crystal between their palms.
The heat of him cut through the cold metal. His chest brushed hers when he leaned in. Not enough to hurt. More than enough to make her breath catch.
"I said don't," he murmured.
"Take your hand off me."
"You don't mean that."
Wren's pulse jumped. The bond copied it into his wrist.
His eyes sharpened. "There. You felt it."
"I felt your arrogance."
"Your heartbeat changed."
"Maybe I am deciding where to stab you."
"With what? The crystal?"
"I can find something."
His thumb moved once across her knuckles. It was probably an accident. It still sent a hot line of sensation up her arm.
Draven glanced at her mouth. "You should decide quickly."
Wren tore her hand free and shoved him back. "Touch me again and I break your nose properly."
"You already promised to make the rot look mild."
"I am full of promises."
"That is the first one I believe."
The lower door rattled.
A child's voice came through the other side. "Wren?"
Wren spun. "Mara!"
"Don't answer," Draven snapped.
"She can hear me."
"So can whoever is standing behind her."
The voice came again, thinner this time. "Wren, please. I can't see."
Wren took one step toward the door.
Draven blocked her. "That isn't Mara."
"You don't know that."
"I do."
"How?"
"Because the bond carries her heartbeat, but the voice came through the station speaker."
Wren looked up at the dead camera above the door.
A tiny green light blinked.
Her stomach dropped.
"They patched into the speaker," she said.
"Yes."
"Then the kids are still inside."
"Or the speaker is bait."
"Either way, I am going in."
"Not without me."
"That is the problem."
He caught her before she could bolt. She twisted, struck his shoulder, and drove him into the side rail. He absorbed the blow without releasing her.
"Stop fighting me," he said.
"Stop holding me."
"You want me to let go?"
"Yes."
"Say it while you look at me."
Wren did.
His face was too close. A cut split his lower lip. Blood touched the corner of his mouth. She could feel his breath against her cheek, uneven now. The rot had stolen more strength than he wanted her to see.
She hated that she noticed.
She hated that her hand moved before she could stop it.
Her palm pressed against his chest.
Draven froze.
His heart beat under her hand, fast and heavy. Then it stumbled.
The bond flashed.
Wren felt the rot crawling through him like black wire. It had reached below his ribs. Every breath scraped against it. His body wanted to fold, but he stayed upright because she was watching.
"You are worse," she whispered.
"I have had better reviews."
"Don't joke."
"If I stop joking, you will panic."
"I am already panicking."
His eyes locked on hers. "Then use me."
"What?"
"The bond. Match my pulse."
"I don't know how."
"You know how to control a spark. Control this."
"You are asking me to trust you."
"No. I am telling you to keep me alive long enough to save the children."
The station shook. A line of light widened around the outer doors.
Wren kept her palm against his chest. "Breathe."
"I am breathing."
"Not like that. Slow down."
"You giving orders now?"
"Yes. Count with me."
His mouth twitched. "You count."
"One."
He inhaled.
"Two."
The black lines under his throat stopped spreading.
"Three."
The bond pulled their heartbeats closer. His pain struck her in small, sharp flashes. She clenched her jaw and held on.
"Four," she said.
Draven's hand settled at her back.
Wren's breath caught. "I didn't tell you to touch me."
"You were shaking."
"I am not."
"Your hand is shaking against my chest."
"That is because your heart is trying to escape."
"It knows you are dangerous."
"Smart heart."
His fingers spread over her coat, firm and warm. He did not pull her closer. He did not need to. The space between them had already disappeared.
"Five," she whispered.
His heartbeat steadied.
The rot pulled back.
Wren felt the change and nearly lost her balance. Draven caught her around the waist.
"There," he said. "You did it."
"I held your heart together for five seconds. Don't start planning a parade."
"Six seconds."
"You are counting?"
"I like knowing how long you can keep me alive."
"Try not to make it sound flattering."
"I am not good at flattering."
"You are not good at apologizing either."
"I apologized."
"You said, and I quote, 'Try not to die before I need you.'"
"That was sincere."
Wren's fingers pressed harder into his chest. "You are impossible."
"Still alive."
"Barely."
"Because you are holding me here."
For one dangerous second, neither of them moved. His breath warmed her cheek. Her palm felt every beat under his shirt. The bond carried both rhythms into the metal cuff, one pulse answering the other.
Then a gunshot cracked outside.
The outer door buckled.
Draven shoved Wren behind him.
She grabbed the back of his coat. "Don't you dare take another blast for me."
"Then stay behind me."
"That is not the same thing."
"It is close enough."
"No, it is not. You are not allowed to die because you think standing in front of me makes you noble."
He glanced back. "You think I am noble?"
"I think you are an idiot with a weapon. Move."
She shoved past him and dropped beside the control panel. Her spark crystal warmed in her palm.
Draven crouched beside her. "The lower lock is tied to the main grid."
"I know."
"If you overload it, the whole station drops."
"I know."
"The children are under the station."
"I know, Draven. Stop saying things I already know."
"I am making sure you understand the risk."
"The risk is that the people outside kill them."
"The risk is that your magic collapses the vault."
She looked at him. "You have a better idea?"
He pointed at the maintenance hatch beneath the panel. "There is a manual bypass."
"The hatch is sealed."
"With a Combine lock."
"You can open it?"
"I can open anything the Combine built."
"That sounds like something a traitor would say."
"Good thing you are not turning me in."
"I am still considering it."
He pulled a narrow metal key from inside his sleeve. Wren caught his wrist before he could use it.
"Where did you get that?"
"My command issued it."
"Why does a hunter carry a key to an abandoned station?"
His eyes did not leave hers. "Because it was never abandoned."
The answer punched through her.
"You knew this place existed."
"I knew the Combine used it before the district was sealed."
"You knew."
"I did not know you were sheltering children here."
"But you knew the station."
"Yes."
Wren slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
Draven's head turned with the blow. He slowly faced her again.
"Feel better?" he asked.
"Not remotely."
"Good. We are making progress."
"You lied to me."
"You lie every time you call me a monster."
"That does not even make sense."
"It does to me."
He fitted the key into the hatch. Wren's hand remained around his wrist.
"If that opens a trap, I will make you crawl through it first."
"You will be attached to me."
"Then crawl faster."
The lock clicked.
The hatch opened, revealing a narrow service shaft and a ladder descending into darkness.
The children's heartbeats grew louder through the bond.
Mara's pulse raced. Jace's beat stumbled. The third child, little Niko, was almost silent.
Wren's mouth went dry. "Niko is hurt."
Draven looked at her. "How bad?"
"I don't know. He is too quiet."
"Then we go now."
He started down the ladder.
Wren grabbed his belt. "I go first."
"No."
"You don't know the vault."
"I know traps."
"I know the children."
"And I know the hunters."
He lowered himself one step, keeping the chain from catching. "Stay behind me. If the tunnel collapses, I pull you out."
"If you fall, I leave you."
"Liar."
"Keep testing me."
She followed him down.
The service shaft was barely wide enough for their shoulders. Draven's back pressed against her chest whenever the ladder shifted. His coat scraped her hands. The bond made every breath he took feel like it happened inside her own ribs.
"You are doing that on purpose," she muttered.
"Doing what?"
"Taking up the entire ladder."
"I am larger than you."
"That is not a personality."
"It is useful in a fight."
"So is being fast."
"You are not fast when you are angry."
"I am always angry around you."
"I noticed."
He reached the bottom and turned. Wren stepped off the ladder directly into him.
His hands caught her hips to keep her from falling.
For a beat, her back met the cold wall and his body blocked the narrow passage. His face was close enough that she saw the tiny cut beneath his eye.
"Hands," she said.
He removed them immediately.
The quick obedience surprised her more than the touch.
"You listened," she said.
"You asked."
"I usually ask you to do things. You usually ignore me."
"I am trying something new."
"How is it going?"
"Badly. You are still glaring."
"I can do worse."
"I know."
A metallic scrape echoed down the tunnel.
Both of them turned.
Draven raised his pistol. Wren lifted the spark crystal.
The tunnel opened into the lower vault. Three storage doors stood along the far wall. The first was ajar. The second had been forced. The third had a smear of blood across the handle.
Wren ran toward it.
Draven caught her coat. "Wait."
"Let go."
"Look at the floor."
Thin silver needles lined the stone between them.
Wren stopped so fast her boots slid.
"I know those traps," she said. "They only fire when someone steps on the center line."
"You knew that before you ran?"
"I was busy hearing a child die."
His grip tightened. "You are not dying for them."
"I will if I have to."
"That is not a choice you get to make alone anymore."
She turned on him. "You don't get a vote."
"The bond says I do."
"The bond is a chain."
"Then stop pretending you can act like you are alone."
Wren yanked free and moved along the wall, one careful step at a time. Draven stayed close behind her. His shoulder brushed hers when the passage narrowed.
At the third door, Wren heard scratching.
"Mara?"
No answer.
She touched the handle.
Draven caught her fingers. "Blood."
"I see it."
"Not theirs."
"How do you know?"
He rubbed the smear between two gloved fingers and looked at it. "Hunter blood. Fresh."
The door swung inward.
The vault was empty.
A chair lay overturned. A blanket was twisted on the floor. One of the children's small shoes rested beside a broken lamp.
Wren stepped inside. "No."
Draven moved past her, scanning the corners. "The blood trail goes toward the back wall."
"There is no back exit."
"There is always an exit."
"Not here. I built this room."
"You built a room with three walls and no escape?"
"It was supposed to be safe."
"Safe is not the same as hidden."
She rounded on him. "Do not start."
"Wren, look at me."
"Don't tell me to look at you."
"Look at me."
His voice cut through her panic. She did.
He stood between her and the open doorway, pistol lowered but ready. His face had gone pale. The black veins had climbed to his jaw.
"The children left alive," he said. "Their heartbeats are still in the bond."
"Where?"
"Move closer."
"What?"
"The signal is stronger on the other side of the wall."
He grabbed her hand and pressed it against the stone.
Wren felt the three pulses.
Not below.
Not ahead.
Behind them.
"The station," she whispered. "They are back upstairs."
Draven's eyes narrowed. "Or someone moved them after we came down."
"The hunters breached the outer doors."
"Yes."
"They took the kids through the main station."
"Then we go up."
Wren pulled him toward the ladder.
He stopped her. "Wait."
"What now?"
"The signal is changing."
The children's heartbeats stuttered through the bond.
Mara's pulse raced. Jace's followed. Niko's beat vanished for one terrible second, then returned twice as fast.
Wren pressed her hand to Draven's chest again. "They are scared."
"I know."
"No, you don't."
"I can feel it through you."
"Then move."
They climbed.
Halfway up, a burst of gunfire tore through the upper station. The ladder shook beneath Wren's boots.
Draven reached over his shoulder and locked one arm around her waist.
"Don't let go," he said.
"I was not planning to."
"You were planning to shove me away."
"That too."
He pulled her higher. "You are very difficult to rescue."
"You are very bad at rescuing people."
"You are alive."
"The kids aren't in the vault."
"We know where they are."
"We know where their heartbeats are. That is not the same thing."
He glanced back at her. "You trust the bond?"
"I trust what it tells me."
"And you trust me to follow it?"
"No. I trust you to hate dying."
His mouth curved despite the blood at his lip. "That is almost sweet."
"Keep climbing."
They reached the upper floor.
The station was empty.
Not quiet. Empty.
The control panel sparked in the corner. The front barrier had collapsed inward, but there were no bodies, no hunters, no children. Three little blankets lay on the floor beneath the old benches. One still held the shape of a small body.
Wren stopped breathing.
Draven stepped in front of her. "Stay behind me."
She pushed him aside. "They were here."
"I know."
"The blankets are warm."
"Wren."
She rushed to the benches. The first blanket smelled like dust and cedar soap. The second had a torn thread from Jace's blue coat. The third carried the faint sweet scent of Niko's medicine.
All three were recent.
"They did not leave willingly," she said.
Draven crouched beside the broken barrier. He touched two fingers to a dark mark on the floor.
"Stun powder," he said. "Military grade."
Wren rounded on him. "You know exactly what they used."
"Because I have seen it used."
"On children?"
His expression shut down. "On prisoners."
"Same thing to the Combine."
"Not to me."
"You wear their crest."
"Not anymore."
He tore the metal insignia from inside his coat and threw it onto the floor. It clanged against the stone.
Wren stared at it.
"You think that fixes anything?"
"No."
"You think standing here without it makes you one of us?"
"No."
"Then what are you doing?"
He looked up at her. "Giving you one less reason to shoot me when we find them."
Her fingers closed around the spark crystal.
The station alarm suddenly screamed.
The sound hit the bond like a hammer. Wren doubled over. Draven caught her before her knees struck the floor.
"What is that?" she gasped.
"A city alert."
"No. This is inside the station."
The front doors unlocked.
One bolt slid back.
Then another.
Draven hauled Wren behind the overturned ticket booth and drew his pistol.
She pressed her shoulder against his. His arm came around her, holding her close while he aimed over the booth. His chest moved against her back. His heartbeat hammered through the bond.
"Hunters?" she whispered.
"Probably."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the answer I have."
"You always this calm when your plans fail?"
"My plans rarely fail."
"Your plans brought us here."
"Your safe house brought us here."
"You are enjoying this argument."
"No. I am enjoying you staying close enough to argue."
Wren turned her head. His mouth was near her temple.
"You are flirting while armed hunters enter the building?"
"I am distracting you from panicking."
"It is not working."
"You are still breathing."
"Barely."
"Then match me."
The door bolts finished sliding.
Wren felt the children again. Their pulses were no longer below the station. They were moving, fast and uneven, somewhere beyond the front entrance.
"They are outside," she whispered.
Draven's arm tightened around her. "The hunters took them out?"
"I can feel the bond stretching. They are farther away."
"How far?"
"Close enough to hear the station alarm."
"Then we cut through the loading bay."
"The hunters are coming through the front."
"Exactly."
"You want to run toward them?"
"I want them to think we are running away."
She looked at him. "You have a plan."
"I usually do."
"If this gets the kids hurt, I will—"
"I know."
"No, you don't."
"Wren."
His voice changed. The edge disappeared. His thumb pressed once against her side, steady and warm.
"I know what you will do," he said. "You will burn every hunter in this city before you let them keep those children. And when the magic tears you apart, you will still try to stand."
Her throat tightened.
"You don't know me," she whispered.
"I know enough."
"You should be afraid."
"I am."
That stopped her.
Draven looked toward the doors. "Not of your magic. Of what happens if you choose it over the bond."
"You mean if I break it."
"I mean if you decide I am worth less than the children."
"You are."
"I know."
"Then stop making me feel guilty about it."
"I am not asking you to choose me."
"You are standing here like you expect me to."
"I am asking you to find another way."
"There may not be one."
"Then make one."
The front doors exploded inward.
Draven shoved Wren down behind the booth as shards of metal and glass ripped across the station. He covered her with his body. The blast struck his back, and a violent pulse tore through the bond.
Wren screamed. "Draven!"
He collapsed against her.
For one awful second, his weight pinned her to the floor. Black rot flashed beneath his skin, spreading from his neck toward his jaw.
"Get off me," she said, voice shaking. "Draven, get off me."
He pushed up on one arm. "I am fine."
"You are lying."
"Obviously."
Hunters shouted from the broken entrance.
"Kessler! Drop your weapon!"
"Current-blooded female, hands where we can see them!"
Wren caught Draven's face between both hands. His skin was hot. His eyes struggled to focus.
"Stay with me," she said.
"I am here."
"No, you are not. The bond is slipping."
"Then hold it."
"I can't hold everything."
"You can hold me."
The words broke through the noise.
She pressed one hand to his chest and the other to the side of his neck. His pulse jumped beneath her fingers.
"Breathe with me," she said.
"You already gave me that order."
"Do it again."
"You are bossy."
"And you are dying."
"Still flirting?"
"Shut up."
She forced her heartbeat slow. One beat. Two. Three.
His pulse fought her, wild and uneven.
"Come on," she whispered. "Match me."
"You said you hated me."
"I do."
"You said I was a monster."
"You are."
"You said the bond was a chain."
"It is."
His fingers closed over her wrist. "Then why are you holding on?"
Wren leaned closer until her forehead touched his.
"Because you are not dying before I decide what to do with you."
His breath shook against her mouth.
The bond caught.
Their heartbeats slammed into the same rhythm. The rot retreated from his throat. Draven sucked in a rough breath and rolled to his knees.
Wren kept her hand against his chest. "Stay close."
"You finally asked nicely."
"Do not ruin it."
"Was that concern?"
"It was a threat."
"Sounded warm."
She shoved him toward the loading bay. "Move."
They ran.
Hunters fired behind them. Draven returned fire without looking back, forcing the soldiers behind the broken ticket booths. Wren threw a spark at the side gate. Blue-white light crawled across the lock.
"That gate is Combine steel," Draven said.
"Then it is about to have a bad day."
"The surge will expose you."
"They already know."
"The bond will amplify it."
"I know."
"You could break the bond before you cast."
Wren's hand stopped over the lock.
Behind them, a hunter shouted, "Kessler, she will kill you! Break the tether and step away!"
Another voice yelled, "The children are in custody! One command from us, and they go into the furnace!"
Wren turned. "They have the kids."
Draven's face went hard. "They are lying."
"The bond says they are close."
"Close does not mean inside the station."
"If I break the bond, you die."
"If you keep it, the surge may kill both of us."
"And the kids?"
"We get them out first."
"How?"
He stepped in front of her, blocking the hunters' line of fire. "You open the gate. I hold the station."
"No."
"Wren."
"No. You hold the station, the rot takes you."
"Then keep me steady."
"You cannot ask me to do both."
"I am not asking."
He seized the cuff between them. His thumb pressed against the glowing mark.
"You break this," he said, "and I go down. You cast without me, the hunters track you through the flare. You want the children alive? Use the bond. Use me."
"You keep saying that like you are a weapon."
"Tonight, I am."
"I don't want you to be."
The confession came out before she could stop it.
Draven stared at her.
The hunters reloaded behind them.
"Say that again," he said.
"Don't make me."
"Wren."
"I don't want you to be a weapon. I don't want you to die. I don't want this bond. I don't want to need you. Pick whichever answer hurts you least."
His hand rose toward her face, then stopped just short of her cheek.
"Too late," he said.
A pounding sound came from beyond the loading gate.
Small fists.
Three terrified heartbeats slammed through the bond.
Wren turned toward the gate. "The kids."
Draven caught her wrist. "Wait."
"They're right there."
"No. Listen."
The pounding came again.
Not from the gate.
From inside the station.
Wren's blood went cold.
The front doors groaned behind them. Hunters stepped through the smoke, rifles raised.
Draven pulled her against his chest and turned them toward the station entrance.
"Where are the children?" he demanded.
Wren felt the three heartbeats shift.
They were not beyond the loading gate.
They were directly above them.
Inside the ceiling.
A hunter stepped forward. "Last chance. Break the bond."
"You brought the kids here," Wren said.
The hunter smiled. "We found home."
Draven's arm locked around her waist. "Wren, get ready."
"For what?"
He looked up.
The station ceiling cracked.
A shadow dropped behind them.
Then the front doors blew in, and when Wren spun toward the vault, the children were gone from the inside—