Chapter 15 · Heartbeat for a Heartbeat

"Don't touch him." Seren shoved my shoulder hard enough to crack my spine against the altar rail. Her dagger gleamed two inches from my throat. "Step back, Helen."

"Get your hands off me," I said, my voice dead and level. "He has no pulse."

"Because you dragged him into this crypt!"

"Because he took three Directorate crossbolts meant for my lungs! Now move, or bury him yourself."

Seren’s jaw clamped shut, steel clashing against steel in her eyes, but she lowered the blade half an inch.

I dropped to my knees beside the blackstone slab. Rafe lay flat on his back, eyes rolled back beneath heavy lids, his skin the color of wet chalk. His chest wasn't rising. Not even a shallow hitch. When my bare fingers pressed against the side of his neck, the skin felt like winter granite.

Nothing. No beat. Just the sickening stillness of a corpse.

"Rafe," I muttered, slapping his cheek once, hard. "Don't you dare."

No reaction. The blood pooling beneath his leathers was turning thick and dark, soaking into the ancient carvings of the slab.

"The exit took the toll," Seren said behind me, her voice breaking around the edges.