Chapter 31 · Blood-Stained Stitches

"Hold him down, or I cut the wrong thread and we both die."

Cassian's hand clamped around Sylvia's wrist before she could reach for the silver needle.

His grip was hot. Too hot. His fingers dug into the bruised skin just hard enough to hurt, and his pale eyes stayed locked on hers across the blood-slick table.

"You said you needed a steady hand," he said.

"I need you to stop moving."

"I am not moving."

The table jolted under him.

Sylvia glanced at the door. Something slammed into it from the other side. Dust shook loose from the ceiling. A hound barked, deep and wet, and the sound crawled straight through her ribs.

"That was moving," she snapped.

Cassian's jaw tightened. "Then hurry."

She yanked her wrist free and grabbed the needle. The metal trembled between her fingers. Not from fear. From the bond. His pulse was racing through her hand, beating under her skin like a second clock.

One body. One heartbeat.

And the hunters were thirty seconds from tearing the door apart.

"If you flinch again, I leave the seal half-closed," Sylvia said. "You know what happens then?"

"You enjoy explaining obvious things."

"Your soul stays split.