Chapter 31 · A Live Passenger

"Get off the core."

The voice came from above—flat, precise, and way too calm for someone standing on a moving convoy in the middle of a rail yard.

I looked up. Seraphine Vale stood on the lead transport, one hand on the containment frame, the other holding a whistle-thin wand aimed at Calder's chest. Behind her, three armored officers flanked the second core crate, their rifles trained on us.

"We just fell off a train," I said. "Give us a second."

"You have three," Seraphine said. "Then I activate the wards and you both go down hard."

Calder's claws dug into the crate beneath us. The hum of the ward-core inside rattled my teeth. He wasn't looking at Seraphine. He was staring past her, at the figure standing in the shadow of the containment frame.

Tall. Hooded. Hands folded like he was waiting for a bus.

"Mara," Calder said quietly. "You need to jump."

"What?"

"Off the convoy. Now."

"We're moving at thirty miles an hour—"

"Then you'll roll fast." His voice cracked on the edge, and his grip on my wrist went tight enough to hurt. "I mean it. Get off."

Seraphine tilted her head. "Calder Quill.