Chapter 8 · The Chair Gives the Order

"Put the knife down, Mara."

Kael’s hand locked around my wrist before the blade could touch his throat. He was too fast. Too hot. His grip was a vice, and the Black Ledger lay between us, humming with a dark, hungry energy.

"You cut that seal," he rasped, "and the bond takes your arm with it."

"Then let it take mine," I snapped, twisting against him. "It’s already taking yours."

I could see it. The black vein under his collar had crawled across his skin, pulsing with every ragged breath he fought to take. He was dying, and he was trying to play bodyguard.

"Three minutes!" Noah screamed from the control pit. "Maybe less! The rift is folding!"

"Tell Noah to shut up," Kael muttered.

"Tell Kael to stop pretending he can stand."

I drove my knee toward his leg. He didn't flinch—he shifted, caught me by the waist, and slammed me back against the metal rail.

My spine hit hard. The air left my lungs in a rush. He pressed his chest flush against mine, his breath hot and smelling of iron against my cheek.

"You’re going through first," he said.

"No."

"That wasn’t a request."

"Good.