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Carson took the parking garage ramp like the concrete had insulted him personally.
The sedan fishtailed around a dead ticket booth. My shoulder slammed into the passenger door. Behind us, headlights spilled down the ramp.
"Slow down," I snapped.
"No."
"That wasn't a suggestion."
"Good. Because I wasn't asking."
He looked like hell under the dashboard glow. Blood soaked the side of his black shirt where the silver arrow had gone in. His hands were locked around the wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white.
And underneath all that, through the black moon seal pressed against my palm, I felt him.
Pain. Hot and sharp.
Hunger. Worse.
Something big pacing behind his ribs.
I swallowed and dug my fingers into the edge of the seat. "V-17. What is it?"
Carson didn't answer.
"Carson."
"A vault."
"Okay. Great. A vault where?"
"Under the old Vale Exchange."
I stared at him. "The one downtown? The giant creepy building with marble wolves on the front?"
"Yeah."
"That place has been closed for like twenty years."
"Not all of it."
Of course not. Nothing in this city was ever just abandoned. It was always hidden. Sealed. Full of rich dead people secrets and blood cult nonsense.
The headlights behind us vanished as Carson cut through a service exit and hit the street.
For maybe three seconds, I thought we'd lost them.
Then my phone buzzed in my lap.
Sera Voss.
A video call.
Carson saw the screen and his jaw tightened. "Don't answer."
"She's got Jonah."
"And she wants you scared enough to do what she says."
"Mission accomplished."
The phone buzzed again.
Then a text appeared.
MIDNIGHT IS GETTING CLOSER.
Attached was a photo of Jonah sitting in a metal chair. His wrists were zip-tied behind him. There was blood on his lip. One eye had started to swell.
My throat closed up so fast I almost couldn't breathe.
"Pull over," I said.
Carson glanced at the screen. His face went flat.
"Pull over, Carson."
"No."
"I said pull the damn car over."
He hit the brakes so hard my seatbelt caught me across the chest.
The car stopped beside an empty loading dock. I was already reaching for the handle when Carson grabbed my wrist.
Not rough. Not exactly.
But I couldn't move.
"Let go."
"You're not calling her back."
"She hurt him."
"She sent you a picture. That's not the same thing."
I turned on him. "You think that helps?"
"No. I think she's trying to steer you away from wherever Jonah sent us."
My pulse hammered in my ears. "What is Vault Seventeen? Why did you look like somebody shot you when you saw that code?"
Carson's eyes went to the windshield.
Bad sign.
He only did that when he was picking which lie hurt least.
"Carson."
His grip loosened. "It's where my family kept records they didn't want the Council to see. Deals. Blood contracts. Gate maps. Names."
"Names?"
He finally looked at me.
The seal in my palm gave one hard beat.
"True names," he said.
I went cold.
"You said the seal reacted when I heard yours."
"It did."
"And now we're going to a vault full of them?"
"Maybe. If it hasn't been cleaned out."
"Maybe?"
"Mia, Vault Seventeen was supposed to be impossible to access. My father locked it after he found out someone in the Council was selling bloodline information."
"Your father. The dead one?"
"Yes."
I watched him carefully. "And Jonah knows about it because...?"
His silence sat there between us.
I laughed once. It came out ugly. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
"I don't know."
"You know something."
"I know your father used to work security for the Council. Before he disappeared."
The words hit hard enough to make my ears ring.
"My dad fixed locks," I said.
"He did both."
"No, he didn't. He was a locksmith. He came home smelling like oil and metal and burnt coffee. He showed me how to pick a deadbolt when I was nine. He didn't work for some monster committee under a bank."
Carson's expression didn't change, but the thing inside him shoved against my bones. Fear. Guilt.
I hated that I could feel it.
"Your father wasn't just a locksmith," he said quietly. "He built locks for people who needed to hide things from us."
"Us?"
His mouth pulled tight.
"Bloodlines," he said.
I ripped my wrist free. "You keep saying stuff like that and acting surprised I want to throw you out of a moving car."
"You can be mad after we find Jonah."
"I can be mad now and later. I'm talented."
For half a second, his mouth almost twitched.
Then he bent forward with a sharp breath.
The seal burned against my palm.
I felt silver moving inside him.
Not literally. I didn't have a tiny map of Carson's organs in my head. But I felt the poison dragging through him, cold and bright and mean. Every beat of his heart pushed it farther.
His fingers curled around the steering wheel.
His nails started to darken.
"Carson." My voice came out smaller than I wanted.
"Don't touch me."
"That's not reassuring."
"Mia."
His pupils swallowed the green in his eyes.
Then he started the car again.
We drove downtown with neither of us talking.
I kept checking Jonah's picture. Zooming in. Looking for anything. A logo on the wall. A reflection in the metal chair. A clue.
Nothing except a sliver of gray tile and Jonah's left hand twisted behind his back.
His fingers were tapping against the chair leg.
I stared at them.
Tap. Tap-tap. Pause.
Tap.
My brother had taught himself code at eleven because apparently normal children needed hobbies like baseball and video games, while Jonah needed to break school firewalls for fun.
I rewound the video in my head.
V-17 hadn't been random.
He'd known we would understand.
Or he knew Carson would.
That part made my stomach hurt.
The Vale Exchange sat wedged between newer buildings downtown, all black windows and old stone. Two wolf statues guarded the front stairs, their mouths open in silent snarls.
Carson didn't park out front.
He took us down an alley, past dumpsters and a broken delivery gate, then stopped behind a rusted steel door with faded lettering.
VALE EXCHANGE ARCHIVES.
"Cute," I said. "Very subtle."
"The subtle entrances are usually the dangerous ones."
"Usually?"
He looked at me. "Stay behind me."
"No."
"Mia."
"You are bleeding through your shirt, your eyes are doing that creepy cat thing, and apparently the monster in your chest is one bad mood away from eating a bus. So no. We go in together."
Carson got out without answering.
I followed because, yeah, I had survival instincts. They were just currently being held hostage by my brother.
The alley smelled like wet cardboard, old grease, and something metallic under it.
Blood.
Fresh.
Carson stopped at the steel door.
There wasn't a keyhole.
There was a smooth black circle where one should've been.
He pressed his thumb to it.
Nothing happened.
Then he looked at me.
"What?"
"The seal."
"You want me to put the cursed black moon murder coin on the creepy door?"
"Pretty much."
"You really know how to show a girl a good time."
I pulled the seal from my jacket pocket.
The second it touched the black circle, the door clicked.
Not unlocked.
Clicked.
Like something on the other side had heard us.
Carson went still.
"That wasn't supposed to happen," he said.
"Fantastic. Love that for us."
The door rolled inward with a long scrape.
Cold air breathed out from the dark.
We stepped inside.
The hallway beyond was narrow, lined with old brass panels. Most had been ripped open. Wires hung from the walls like dead vines.
My phone lost service the second the door shut behind us.
I held it up anyway. One bar. Then none.
"Sera could've brought Jonah here," I said.
"She could have."
"You sound like you don't think she did."
"I think she wants us looking in two places at once."
"Well, congrats. It's working."
We found the elevator at the end of the hall. It had no buttons. Just a small brass plate stamped with seventeen Roman numerals.
XVII.
Carson reached for it.
I caught his sleeve. "Wait."
He looked down at my hand.
"What?"
"That blood smell. It's stronger here."
His face tightened. "Yeah."
"Human?"
He didn't answer.
"Carson."
"Bloodline."
That did not make me feel better.
The elevator opened before either of us touched it.
Inside, the floor was covered in dark brown smears.
My stomach rolled.
"Nope," I said.
"Mia—"
"Nope. Absolutely not. This is how people die in horror movies. They see the murder elevator and they go, wow, let's get in. Then somebody named Chad gets folded in half."
"We don't have another way down."
"You know that for sure?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Because I helped design the security routes when I was sixteen."
I blinked at him. "You were sixteen?"
"Long story."
"Everything with you is a long story."
"Get in the elevator, Mia."
I got in the elevator.
Because Jonah.
The doors shut.
The car dropped so fast my knees buckled.
I grabbed the rail. Carson caught my elbow, and the contact punched through the seal.
Pain hit me.
His pain.
I gasped.
Carson let go like I'd burned him.
Too late.
I felt the silver twisting under his skin. Felt his heartbeat stutter. Felt that thing behind his ribs smash against bone.
"How bad?" I asked.
"Fine."
"Bullshit."
"Mia—"
The elevator lights flickered.
Carson bent at the waist.
A sound ripped out of him. Low. Not human.
The overhead bulb popped.
Darkness swallowed us.
"Carson?"
His breath came rough in the black.
Then I heard claws scrape metal.
My phone flashlight shook in my hand when I turned it on.
He was pressed into the far corner of the elevator. His back was bowed. His shirt had split across his shoulders.
Black fur pushed through the blood-soaked fabric.
His fingers had gone wrong. Longer. Jointed different. Nails hooked and dark.
His eyes locked on mine.
Gold now.
Not green.
Not Carson.
Every stupid part of my brain screamed at me to get away.
The elevator was dropping. There was nowhere to go anyway.
"Don't," he rasped.
"Don't what?"
"Come near me."
"You can't even stand up."
"Mia." His voice cracked into a growl. "Please."
That word did it.
Not the claws. Not the teeth starting to show when his mouth pulled back. Not the fact that I was trapped in a falling box with a guy turning into a nightmare.
Please.
Carson Vale did not sound like a man who asked for anything.
I moved toward him.
He slammed one clawed hand into the wall. The metal dented.
"I said don't."
"Yeah, well, you also said you were fine, so your credibility is trash right now."
His head snapped toward me.
The beast in him was hungry. I could feel it. Hunger that wasn't about food. It wanted heat. Blood. A throat under its teeth.
And under all that, buried deep enough I almost missed it, was Carson.
Terrified.
Not for himself.
For me.
I dropped to my knees in front of him.
"Look at me," I said.
He made a broken sound.
"Carson. Look at me."
Gold eyes found mine.
His face was changing. Jaw too sharp. Teeth too long. Blood ran from his nose and down to his mouth.
The elevator shook around us.
I reached for the black moon seal.
It was hot enough to hurt.
"What are you doing?" he growled.
"I don't know yet."
"Mia, don't—"
I pressed the seal against his chest.
The world snapped sideways.
For one second, I wasn't in the elevator.
I was somewhere dark and running.
Four paws hit wet stone.
The city smelled like a thousand things at once. Gas. Rain. Fear. Human skin. Blood behind a locked door. The moon above everything, huge and black, calling like it knew my name.
Then Carson's voice cut through it.
Get out.
"No," I said, though I wasn't sure if I said it in my head or out loud.
The beast lunged.
I felt teeth. Rage. A need to tear through anything that got too close.
Then I found him.
Not physically. Not in a way I could explain without sounding insane.
He was curled up somewhere behind all that black fur and hunger. Arms over his head. Trying to hold a door shut while something on the other side kicked it apart.
I grabbed his wrist.
You don't get to leave me in here alone, I told him.
His answer came ragged. Mia, run.
No.
It'll hurt you.
Already does.
The beast roared around us.
My body jerked in the elevator. Carson's claw slashed across the floor inches from my knee.
I threw both arms around him.
He was burning hot. Fur rough beneath my cheek. Blood soaked my shirt where I pressed against him.
"Come back," I said into his shoulder.
His whole body shook.
"Come back, you asshole. Jonah needs us. I need you to drive because I don't know how to get out of this nightmare basement. So get back in your own damn body."
For a second, nothing happened.
Then the seal flashed between us.
Black light. Cold light.
Carson screamed.
Not like a beast.
Like a man getting dragged out of deep water.
The elevator slammed to a stop.
I hit the floor hard. Carson collapsed on top of me, heavy and shaking.
The lights came back.
He was human again.
Mostly.
His shirt hung in strips. Blood covered his chest. His hands were human, but his nails were still dark at the tips.
He was breathing against my neck.
Fast. Uneven.
I didn't move.
Neither did he.
Then he whispered, "You should've let me change."
I stared at the ceiling. "Yeah, well. I make terrible choices under pressure."
His forehead rested against my shoulder.
His voice came out rough. "You held me."
"Don't make it weird."
A tiny laugh shook through him. It turned into a wince.
I slid out from under him and sat up. "Can you walk?"
"Probably."
"That means no."
"It means I'm standing up anyway."
He did.
Barely.
The elevator doors opened onto a circular room with thick steel walls. Old file drawers ran from floor to ceiling. Most were open. Papers covered the ground.
At the center stood a black metal vault door.
Seventeen was stamped across it.
And painted on the door in fresh red blood were three words.
SHE IS NOT HERE.
My lungs forgot how to work.
"Jonah," I said.
Carson moved past me, scanning the room. "Stay close."
"He was here."
There were drag marks on the floor.
A broken zip tie.
Jonah's hoodie lay crumpled beside the vault door.
I ran for it.
"Mia, wait."
Too late.
I grabbed the hoodie and dropped to my knees.
It still smelled like him. Cheap laundry soap. Energy drinks. The stupid cinnamon gum he chewed when he was coding.
There was blood on the sleeve.
Not much.
Enough.
"Jonah!" I shouted.
My voice bounced off the steel walls and came back wrong.
Carson crouched beside me. His face had gone hard again, but I felt the panic under his skin.
"This is staged," he said.
"His blood is staged?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. But Sera wants us reacting. Look around."
I hated that he was right.
I hated him for being right.
Then I saw it.
A tiny black device taped under the nearest file drawer.
A camera.
The red light blinked once.
Carson crushed it under his heel.
A speaker crackled overhead.
Sera's voice slid through the room, calm and pleased.
"You always were difficult, Carson."
I got to my feet. "Where is my brother?"
"Safe enough. For the moment."
"Put him on."
"No."
Carson stepped in front of me. "What do you want from Vault Seventeen?"
A soft laugh came through the speaker.
"You know exactly what is in there."
"My father sealed those records."
"Your father was sentimental. It was one of his worst flaws."
The vault door clicked.
I looked at Carson.
He looked at me.
The seal in my palm started to throb.
Once.
Twice.
Then the vault door opened by itself.
Inside was a single metal desk, a dead computer monitor, and a wall covered in old photographs.
Carson moved first.
I followed him in.
Every photo had been pinned in rows.
Council members. Bloodline families. Maps of the city. Grainy surveillance shots.
Then I saw my father.
You don't forget your dad's face just because he's been gone ten years.
He looked younger in the photo. Tired. Standing outside this very vault with a ring of keys clipped to his belt.
Beside him stood Carson's father.
And between them was a man I didn't know.
Tall. Gray coat. Silver hair.
His hand rested on my father's shoulder like they were friends.
Like he owned him.
"Who is that?" I asked.
Carson didn't answer right away.
His face drained of color.
"Carson. Who the hell is that?"
He stepped closer to the photo.
"That's Gideon Mercer," he said.
My last name landed in the room like a gunshot.
I looked at him. "Mercer is Jonah's last name. Mine too."
"I know."
The speaker crackled again.
But this time it wasn't Sera.
A man's voice came through. Low. Familiar in the way a nightmare can feel familiar before you know why.
"Mia Lane," he said.
The black moon seal burned so hard I screamed.
A sharp crack split the room.
Carson grabbed me.
Something punched into my side, hot and brutal, and suddenly there was blood all over my hand.
The sniper round had come through the vault wall.
And the voice on the speaker said my name again.
Not Mia.
My true name.