He crouched in front of her and seized her wrist. His thumb pressed over the burning mark. His skin was hot. The pain eased by a fraction.
Mira looked down at his hand. "You can control it."
"Not control. Redirect."
"Same trick with a nicer word."
"If I had triggered the clause, you would be on the floor."
"I am on the floor."
His thumb moved once over her pulse. "You're still arguing."
"I can do both."
The infected guard hit the stones behind them.
Mira spun. The song had stopped.
Silas rose and pulled her upright with him. "We go now."
"To the ward."
"To the armory first."
"No."
His hand closed around the back of her neck. Not hard. Not gentle either. His thumb rested just below her ear, right over the frantic beat there.
"You want access to the children?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Then you sign an emergency addendum."
Mira stared at him. "You already own my license."
"I own the right to keep you from being hanged by the council. I do not own your medical judgment."
"That is the first decent thing you've said."
"Don't get attached."
He dragged her into the small guard station beside the stairs. A dead clerk lay across the desk. Mira looked away before she saw too much.
Silas kicked a metal box toward her. "Open it."
"What's inside?"
"The emergency seal."
"And the price?"
"You obey my command to withdraw if I say the ward is lost."
"No."
"You remain within arm's reach of me until this attack ends."
"Absolutely not."
"And if you break either term, your license goes to the council with proof that you violated the original contract. They will cut your hands before they put you on trial."
Mira's fingers curled.
Silas leaned over the desk. His coat brushed her sleeve. "Sign, Mira."
"You really enjoy this part."
"The part where you survive? Yes."
"The part where you make me beg?"
His expression tightened. "I have not asked you to beg."
"You keep giving me reasons to."
For a moment, he said nothing.
The alarm bells changed. A long, dragging note rolled through the Bastion.
Silas looked toward the door. "The lower gate is gone."
Mira snatched the seal from the box. "Then stop wasting time."
He placed a sheet of black paper on the desk. The words were stamped in red ink. Two clauses. Two penalties. One line for her signature.
Mira read it quickly. "If I refuse treatment, you can lock me in the isolation vault."
"Yes."
"If you order me to stop, and I think the patient can still be saved, I can ignore you."
Silas's eyes sharpened. "You can attempt to ignore me."
"That is what the clause says."
"It says you can make a medical judgment. It does not say you can be reckless."
"You don't get to use that word. You sent burning carts through the east district."
"I stopped the spread."
"You buried people alive."
His face went cold. "Sign."
"Say you were wrong."
"Mira."
"Say it."
He stepped around the desk. The station was too small for him. His shoulder brushed hers. His hand came up and caught her chin, turning her face toward him.
"You want me to admit weakness while my city is being torn apart?"
"I want to know there's still a man under all that armor."
His thumb rested against her jaw. The contact was brief, controlled, but heat climbed into her face anyway.
"You saw enough of the man last night," he said.
Mira's breath caught. "I saw an infected arm. Don't flatter yourself."
"You keep looking at it."
"Because you keep hiding it."
His grip tightened. "Sign the paper."
"Move your hand."
"Sign it."
"Make me."
The air between them turned sharp.
Silas leaned closer. His breath touched the corner of her mouth. He wasn't kissing her. He didn't need to. The threat sat in the inch between them, just as dangerous as his gun.
Then he released her and shoved the paper back toward her.
"You have ten seconds."
"You're counting?"
"Eight."
"You are the worst negotiator I've ever met."
"Six."
Mira grabbed the seal, cut her thumb across its edge, and pressed her blood to the signature line.
The paper drank it.
The contract mark on her wrist tightened once, then settled into a dark ring.
Silas snatched up his pistol. "Stay close."
"Try not to shoot me."
"Try not to make it necessary."
They ran.
The lower corridor had become a stampede. Soldiers pushed upward while civilians tried to force their way through the opposite door. A woman clutched a child who was humming into her shoulder.
Mira grabbed the woman's sleeve. "Where is the quarantine matron?"
"Below. She locked herself in with the children."
Silas turned to his soldiers. "Clear the corridor. No one enters the ward without my order."
Mira pointed at him. "Your order is me."
"You are not in charge."
"Then stop pretending you can fix this without me."
A soldier lifted his weapon. "My lord, the prisoners are breaking containment."
"They aren't prisoners," Mira snapped.
Silas's gaze cut toward her. "Not now."
"You call them that in every report."
"Mira."
"They're children."
A crash shook the far doors.
The woman screamed. The child in her arms began to sing.
Mira shoved through the crowd. "Open the ward!"
Silas seized her elbow. "You stay behind me."
"If you drag me back, the next person who sings dies."
"You don't know that."