Chapter 17 · The Collar Wakes

"Take your hand off her throat, Rafe. The collar goes on now."

The council courier stood in the war room doorway with one hand clamped over his ribs and the other wrapped around a black metal ledger. Blood slipped between his fingers.

Behind him, the tunnel shook. Dust rained from the ceiling.

Rafe didn't look at him.

His thumb stayed beneath my jaw.

Not squeezing. Not quite. Just enough to remind me he could.

"You've got ten seconds," Rafe said.

The courier swallowed. "The council ordered—"

"I didn't ask what they ordered." Rafe's thumb pressed harder. "I asked why you're still breathing in my fortress."

I caught Rafe's wrist and dug my nails into the leather guard. Heat burned beneath it. My palm was still slick with blood from the pact chamber.

"Let him talk."

Rafe's eyes dropped to my mouth for half a second.

Then they came back cold.

"You trust him?"

"No. I trust panic. It usually tells the truth before people do."

The courier's face tightened. "Helen Vale is to be restrained under judgment law. Her lineage will be confirmed in front of the legion.