Chapter 9 · The Hospital Band

The gate slammed shut before Noah could breathe.

Mira's hand was still locked around his wrist. Her fingers dug in hard enough to bruise, and the courtyard stones pressed cold through his training leathers. His legs felt like someone had emptied them out and refilled them with broken glass.

"What did you see?" Her voice came low, sharp. Not the blade officer asking. Something else.

He tried to push himself up. His arms shook. "My sister."

"You saw a lure." Mira didn't let go. "Gates don't show you truth. They show you bait."

"It wasn't—" His breath caught. The subway lights were still burned into his vision, yellow and flickering the way they always did at three a.m. when the trains slowed down. The platform edge. The bench with the peeling advertisement for a personal injury lawyer. He'd stood on that platform a thousand times. "It was her hospital. I know that hall."

Mira pulled him upright. The motion was efficient, controlled, but her jaw was set too tight. "Rifts wear dead voices like masks. They pull names out of your head and play them back."

"She's not dead.