Chapter 16 · Midnight Comes Early

"How long do we have?" Calder's voice came out rough, like gravel scraping metal.

Mara didn't look at the cuff. She didn't need to. The burn had already started crawling up her forearm, sharp little claws digging under the skin. "Ten minutes. Maybe less."

"Then we run."

"The lockdown's active. Every ward in the district is live. We can't just—"

"We run," he said again, and this time his hand closed around her wrist, the one without the cuff. His palm was cold, stone-cold, but his grip was steady. "Or we both die here."

She wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him the wards would fry them the second they crossed the perimeter, that her father's warning was still ringing in her ears, that she didn't trust a single word out of Calder's mouth. But the pain was spreading now, threading up past her elbow, and the gargoyle's claws were already starting to dull at the edges.

"Fine," she bit out. "But if I burn, you're coming with me."

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

They moved.

The corridor outside the core chamber was already collapsing, the walls spitting sparks where the ward-lines overloaded.