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"Get your hands off me!" Mara spat, even as her back slammed into the damp, slime-coated brick of the tunnel wall.
Cain didn’t let go. His fingers were clamped like iron around her upper arm, pulling her flush against his chest to keep her out of the line of fire. The hooded figure had vanished into the gloom of the sewers, but the echo of that mechanical laughter still bounced off the vaulted ceiling.
"Shut up and breathe," Cain hissed. His voice was a low grate against her ear. "You’re shaking so hard you’re practically vibrating. If you pass out now, I’m leaving you for the rats."
"I'm not shaking because I'm scared, you arrogant prick," Mara snapped, though her lungs felt like they were filled with wet sand. She tried to shove him back, but the Brass Oath flared.
It wasn't just a magical bond; it was a physical lash. The moment she pushed, a jolt of searing heat ripped through her chest, mirroring a spike of pain in Cain’s own heart. He groaned, his grip tightening instinctively, pulling her closer until she could feel the frantic thrum of his pulse through the heavy fabric of his coat.
"Stop fighting it," he gasped, his forehead dropping to rest against hers for a split second. "The bond doesn't like it when you struggle. It’ll burn us both out before we even find the broker."
Mara froze. The proximity was suffocating. She could smell rain, old leather, and something sharp—like ozone—clinging to him. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, then snapped back up to those hard, judging eyes. "Why do you care if I burn out? You’re a Council dog. Just hand me over and collect the bounty."
Cain let out a short, harsh laugh. He stepped back just enough to let her breathe, but his presence still loomed over her, blocking the only exit. "The bounty is dead if you're dead, Voss. And the man who just walked away? He’s the reason I’m still breathing. I don't care about the Council's coin. I want his head."
"Great. So I'm just a leash to get you to your revenge," Mara said, sliding down the wall to sit on the filthy ground. She clutched her chest, where the countdown sigil was pulsing a dull, rhythmic crimson. "I can feel it, Cain. It’s getting faster."
He looked down at her, his expression flickering—not with pity, but with a strange, jagged kind of recognition. He reached out, his hand hovering near her collarbone. He didn't touch her, but the heat from his palm radiated through her thin shirt.
"How much time?" he asked.
"I don't know. It doesn't show numbers, just... beats," she whispered. "Like a heart that’s running out of blood."
"Get up," he ordered, his voice returning to its commanding edge. "Inez doesn't like to be kept waiting, and she definitely doesn't like clients who arrive smelling like sewer runoff."
"Since when did you become my escort?" Mara grumbled, hauling herself up. Her legs felt like jelly, and for a second, the world tilted. Cain caught her by the waist, his arm locking around her with a possessiveness that made her breath hitch.
"Since I decided I'd rather not have your brain leak into mine every time you have a panic attack," he muttered. He didn't let go of her waist immediately. His thumb brushed the side of her hip, a brief, unconscious pressure that sent a spark of electricity straight to the Oath in her chest.
Mara stiffened. "Don't. Just... don't."
"Don't what?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave. He was staring at her now, really staring, his eyes scanning her face as if searching for a lie. "You felt it too, didn't you? When we bound. You saw what I saw."
"I saw a lot of things," Mara replied, pulling away sharply. "Blood. A room that smelled like burning brass. A man who looked exactly like you, but younger, screaming. I don't want to know your life story, Rook. I just want my brother back."
Cain’s face went stone-cold. The air between them turned brittle. "My life story isn't for sale. And if you mention that memory again, I might just decide that the Council's prison is a better place for you after all."
"Threatening me again? Real original," she retorted, though her heart was hammering. "You're just pissed because I saw you actually feel something."
He didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward, deeper into the tunnels. "Move. Now."
They walked in silence for another ten minutes, the only sound the rhythmic slosh of their boots in the muck. The tunnels grew narrower, the walls transitioning from brick to raw, jagged stone. Every few minutes, Cain would stop, his head tilting, listening for the telltale click of a clockwork spy or the hiss of a steam-vent.
"You're too tense," Mara whispered, her shoulder brushing his. "You're acting like the whole city is hunting us."
"The whole city *is* hunting us, you idiot," Cain replied without looking at her. "The moment that sigil was locked into your chest, you became the most valuable piece of contraband in Veyra. If the Council finds us before Inez does, they won't just arrest you. They'll peel you open to see how the gear works."
Mara shuddered. "I'm not a machine."
"To them, you are," he said. He stopped abruptly and pushed her back against a rusted pipe. He leaned in close, his chest nearly touching hers, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Listen to me. If we get separated, if someone grabs you—you don't fight. You let them take you until I can get there. Understand?"
"I'm not a damsel in distress, Cain."
"You're a liability with a ticking bomb in your ribs," he countered. He reached up, his fingers grazing the skin of her neck as he adjusted the collar of her coat. The touch was lingering, far longer than necessary. His eyes dropped to her lips for a heartbeat, and the tension shifted from aggression to something thick, heavy, and suffocating. "Don't make me watch you die because you wanted to prove a point."
Mara opened her mouth to argue, but the words died in her throat. The Oath flared again—not in pain this time, but in a wave of sudden, overwhelming warmth. It was his hunger, his desperation, bleeding through the bond. It made her dizzy. It made her want to lean in.
She shoved him away, her face flushing. "Whatever. Just find the broker."
They reached a heavy iron door embossed with a series of interlocking gears. Cain knocked a specific rhythm—three fast, two slow. A small slot slid open, a pair of sharp, kohl-rimmed eyes scanning them from the darkness.
"Rook," a woman's voice rasped. "I told you not to come back until you had the core."
"I don't have the core," Cain said, his voice flat. "But I have the girl."
There was a long silence. Then, the door groaned open, revealing a room filled with every piece of illegal tech imaginable: floating brass spheres, humming capacitors, and walls lined with stolen blueprints. In the center sat Inez Calder, a woman who looked like she was made of scrap metal and spite. She was wearing a mechanical eyepiece that zoomed in and out with a series of rapid clicks.
"Mara Voss," Inez said, leaning back in her chair and lighting a thin, aromatic cigarette. "You look terrible. The sigil is already eating your memories, isn't it?"
Mara stepped forward, her voice trembling. "You know what it is. You have the records. Tell me how to stop it."
Inez blew a cloud of smoke into the air, her eyes glinting. "Stop it? Honey, you don't stop a countdown. You just try to survive until the zero."
"What does that mean?" Cain demanded, stepping up beside Mara. "We need the trade records for the core. Now."
Inez smirked, reaching for a leather-bound ledger on her desk. "Patience, Rook. I'll give you the names. I'll tell you who sold the core and who’s paying for the hunt. But first..."
She looked at Mara, her expression turning deadly serious. "I need to tell you what that mark actually is. Because it's not a seal, and it's not a brand."
Inez opened the ledger, her finger pointing to a diagram that looked disturbingly like the mark on Mara's chest. "It's a detonator. And according to the signal I'm picking up right now..."
Suddenly, a high-pitched electronic shriek ripped through the room. Inez’s monitors flickered violently, and a red light began to strobe across the ceiling.
"What's happening?" Cain yelled, reaching for his weapon.
Inez stared at her screen, her face turning pale. "Someone just sent a remote trigger signal. The countdown... it just accelerated."
Mara gasped, clutching her chest as a sudden, blinding surge of heat exploded behind her ribs. The world began to blur, a memory of her father's face flickering and then dissolving into static.
"Inez!" Cain roared, but the woman was already backing away from the desk.
"It's too late," Inez shouted over the alarm. "The next memory wipe is starting—right now!"