Chapter 16 · The Dead Man's Pulse

"Get away from him!"

Noah slammed his shock baton into the black vein crawling up the witness's throat. Sparks flew. The mark didn't flinch—it laughed.

Not with a voice. With the witness's body.

The man's back arched off the stone table, boots kicking so hard his heels bled against the rock. Those black lines didn't stop; they raced toward his jaw, hungry.

"Noah, move!" I yelled.

"I'm trying!" Noah yanked the baton free. "The mark's feeding on the vault lock. If it hits his heart, he's dead—and this door stays shut!"

Kael didn't wait for the panic to settle. He lunged, grabbing the witness by the collar and driving him flat against the table. *Crack.* The stone splintered. The black lines jumped instantly from the man's throat to Kael's hand.

Kael's jaw locked. He didn't move.

"Take your hand off him," I snapped.

"Then stop talking and help me."

"You don't get to order me around after what I saw in that memory."

His eyes cut to mine. Cold. Sharp. Too tired to hide the wreckage underneath.

"Fine," Kael spat. "Watch him die. Feel better?"

The mark climbed over his wrist. The witness screamed.

I didn't think.