Chapter 1

"Cute. Your brother's life-support unit says otherwise."

The pressure on her throat eased just enough for her to breathe.

The guard leaned close. Blue security lights fractured across his visor, turning her reflection into broken pieces.

"Miss tonight's payment," he said, "and the clinic cuts power to the lower ward. Your brother gets six minutes. Seven if the machine feels generous."

Tessa drove her heel into his boot.

He grunted.

She twisted sideways, freed one arm, and jammed two fingers beneath his glove. A spark snapped from her skin into his wrist.

The guard's arm went limp.

"You should've led with that," she said.

Then she shoved him into the door and ran.

"Get her!"

Boots thundered behind her.

Tessa hit the service hatch at the end of the alley, punched in the stolen code, and dove through before the lock finished cycling. The hatch slammed shut on a guard's hand.

Metal shrieked.

Someone cursed hard enough to make her grin.

The grin vanished when she turned around.

Three men blocked the black-market surgery room. One wore a red syndicate coat. The other two held shock batons, their tips spitting white sparks.

Behind them sat the only table that mattered.

A man lay strapped to it, silver restraints locked around his wrists. A metal crown clamped over his chest. Thin needles ran from the device beneath his collar and along his ribs.

He looked dead.

Then a blue line pulsed under his skin.

The syndicate broker pointed at Tessa. "You took your time."

"Your delivery team tried to kill me."

"They were told to make sure you came alone."

"I am alone." Tessa glanced at the baton men. "Unless you count the three idiots blocking the door."

The broker's smile disappeared. "Fix the heartlock. Then you get paid."

"That's not what we agreed on."

"Plans changed."

"So did my price."

One baton man stepped forward. "You don't set prices in here."

Tessa kept her eyes on the broker. "Then why'd you call me instead of a real pulse mechanic?"

The man on the table moved.

Two fingers curled against the metal.

The broker went pale. "He woke up?"

"You said he was sedated," Tessa snapped.

"He was."

"Then sedate him again."

"I tried."

The blue pulse under the stranger's skin flared. Every bulb in the room flickered.

The baton men took a step back.

Tessa studied the crown. Illegal pulsecraft restraint. Old military tech. Built to drain power, not save a life.

And the wiring was backward.

Perfect. Someone had built a bomb and strapped it to a man.

"How much?" she asked.

The broker blinked. "What?"

"My payment. Double it."

"Fix him first."

"If I touch that lock, he could tear this room apart."

"Then work faster."

A fist slammed into the service hatch behind her.

The guards had found the override.

Tessa glanced at the door, then at the man on the table. Her fingers brushed the small case hidden inside her coat.

Her brother's stabilizer medication was inside.

One dose. Maybe two days of life if she got it to him before morning.

The clinic wanted payment before they released the next power cell. The syndicate wanted the job finished before they paid her.

And the men outside wanted her in pieces.

The stranger opened his eyes.

Clear gray. Cold enough to cut.

"Don't touch me," he said.

His voice was rough, but it carried across the room like he owned every breath in it.

Tessa stared at him. "You're strapped to a table. Is that a new fashion choice?"

"Take off the crown."

"Ask nicer."

"Take it off."

"No."

The blue pulse jumped.

The table bent with a sharp pop.

The broker grabbed a control rod. "Do it now, Rook."

"I said double."

"You want your brother to keep breathing?"

The stranger's eyes cut toward her. "What did he say?"

"Nothing you need to worry about."

"He threatened someone you love."

"And you noticed that while tied down? Impressive."

"You have thirty seconds before the pulse in my chest breaks the crown."

"Good. Then hold still."

"I said don't touch me."

Tessa walked to the table. "You can keep talking, or you can keep breathing. Pick one."

His jaw tightened.

She opened her case and pulled out a copper pick, a cracked lens, and three stolen charge tabs.

The broker stared. "Where'd you get those?"

"You hired me to fix the lock, not inventory my tools."

"Don't get clever."

"Then stop paying me idiot prices."

She pressed the lens against the crown. Blue script crawled across the glass.

The broker raised his control rod. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Finding out which part kills him first."

"You told me you could remove it."

"I can remove anything. I never promised it would stay attached to the building."

The stranger gave a short, humorless laugh.

Tessa looked at him. "Something funny?"

"You threaten people while shaking."

Her hand stopped.

The pick tapped the crown once. Twice.

"I'm not shaking."

"Your pick disagrees."

"Maybe the crown's nervous."

His gaze stayed on her face a second too long. Warm breath brushed her knuckles when he spoke again.

"What's your name?"

"The person keeping you alive."

"That isn't a name."

"It's the one you can afford."

The hatch buckled inward.

The broker shouted, "Rook!"

Tessa slid the first charge tab beneath the crown. "If anyone touches me, I let the whole lock discharge."

The baton men froze.

The broker lifted the rod. "You wouldn't."

"You want to test me? Go ahead. My night is already terrible."

The stranger turned his head. The crown dug into his skin, but he didn't flinch.

"You don't know what you're connected to," he said.

"I know exactly what I'm connected to. A bad contract and a man with terrible manners."

"If that crown breaks, the pulse jumps to the nearest living system."

"I know."

"No, you don't."

"I said I know."

"Then step away."

Tessa pressed the copper pick against the crown's side. "Your pulse is running backward through the limiter. Someone built this to force a transfer."

His eyes sharpened. "Who told you that?"

"The machine."

"Machines don't talk."

"This one's screaming."

A deep hum filled the room.

The stranger pulled against the restraints. Silver bit into his wrists.

Tessa caught his forearm before he could tear free.

His skin was hot. Too hot. Heat rushed through her palm and up her arm.

His gaze dropped to her hand.

Then back to her face.

For one sharp second, neither of them moved.

His breath caught.

So did hers.

"Let go," he said, quieter now.

"Stop fighting the lock."

"It's inside my chest."

"And the people outside are inside my problem. We all have issues."

His fingers closed around her wrist.

Not hard enough to hurt.

Hard enough to stop her.

His thumb settled over her pulse. Tessa felt every beat beneath it. His eyes dropped to her mouth, then snapped up again, his expression turning colder by force.

She yanked her wrist free.

"Do that again," she warned, "and I remove the crown with your teeth."

"You'd have to get close."

"I'm already close."

"Not close enough."

The broker stared at them. "Are you two done flirting?"

Tessa and the stranger turned toward him at the same time.

"Shut up," they said.

The hatch tore open.

An armored guard shoved his shoulder through the gap. A second guard raised a pulse rifle behind him.

Tessa slapped the second charge tab onto the crown.

"Everybody down!"

The rifle fired.

The stranger moved faster than any restrained man should've been able to move. Blue force cracked across the room. The shot bent sideways and carved a black line through the wall.

The guard flew backward.

The table legs punched through the floor.

Tessa lost her balance.

The stranger's arm locked around her waist and dragged her against him before she hit the metal edge. His chest struck her back. His heartbeat pounded through his coat.

"You can do that?" she demanded.

"Apparently."

"You could've mentioned it."

"You didn't ask."

"I was busy not dying."

"You're welcome."

The broker bolted for the exit.

Tessa twisted free, kicked his knee, and sent him crashing face-first onto the concrete.

"My brother's medication," she said. "Where is it?"

He groaned. "Payment comes after the job."

"Then you're about to have a very short career."

The stranger's arm was still around her waist.

"Move," he said near her ear.

His breath brushed her neck. Her grip tightened around the copper pick.

"Take your arm off me."

"The guards are aiming at you."

"Then point me at them."

"You really don't know when to stop."

"You really don't know who you're talking to."

"I know you're standing between me and death."

"That's the first smart thing you've said."

He released her.

Tessa spun, drove her shoulder into the nearest guard, and ripped the rifle from his hands. The weapon shocked her palm. She bit down, swung the stock into his visor, and caught the second guard's baton before it cracked against her skull.

The stranger pulled against the restraints again.

"Don't," Tessa snapped.

"Get away from me."

"I'm working on it."

"No, you're not."

The blue light surged.

This time, it didn't explode outward.

It snapped toward Tessa.

A bright line struck her palm where the charge had burned her. Heat punched up her arm. She stumbled into the table.

A blue ring appeared beneath her skin.

The stranger stared at it. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything."

"You touched the crown."

"So did you."

"That's not how this works."

"Then explain it before it gets worse."

The ring flashed.

A second heartbeat slammed into Tessa's chest.

Not beside her.

Inside her rhythm.

Her knees buckled. She grabbed the table, but the stranger caught her face in both hands and forced her to look at him.

His fear hit her first.

Sharp. Cold. Buried under all that control.

He was terrified, and he was hiding it badly.

"Get out of my head," she whispered.

"I'm not in your head."

"Then why can I feel you?"

His thumbs pressed against her cheeks. His hands were hot, steady, and far too gentle for a man who'd just thrown a guard across the room.

"Because the lock chose you."

"Locks don't choose. People choose."

"Not this one."

The broker pushed himself up on one elbow. Blood ran from his split lip.

"No," he breathed. "No, that's impossible."

Tessa didn't look away from the stranger. "What is he talking about?"

The stranger said nothing.

The broker laughed once. "Cael. You're supposed to be dead."

The name hit the room like another weapon.

Tessa watched Cael's face change. Not surprise. Recognition. Anger pulled his mouth tight.

"You know him?" she demanded.

Cael's fingers tightened at her jaw. "Don't listen to him."

"That sounds like a yes."

"Tessa."

Her name came out like a warning.

She froze. "I never told you my name."

Cael looked down at her palm.

The blue ring had spread into a thin chain of light around her wrist. The same mark burned around his.

The crown cracked.

Cael shoved her behind him. The restraints snapped apart. Blue force blasted through the room, smashing the remaining lights and throwing the guards into the walls.

The broker screamed, "The heir is alive!"

Alarms began howling outside.

Tessa grabbed Cael's coat and spun him back toward her. "Heir?"

"Not now."

"You knew this would happen."

"I knew the crown was unstable."

"You knew my name."

"I knew the lock needed someone who could repair it."

"You used me."

"I was chained to a table. How exactly did I use you?"

The room shook. Dust sifted from the ceiling.

Cael stepped into her space and braced one hand against the bent table beside her head. His face stopped inches from hers.

His breath was rough against her mouth. His eyes held hers, hard and warning, as he said, "You're the—