Chapter 11 · Midnight Has a Price

“Lot Seventeen,” the auctioneer called from somewhere beyond the red velvet curtains. “One living blood-key. Male. Seventeen years old. Certified Harlow transfer property.”

Evelyn hit the wall hard enough to rattle a row of cracked brass masks.

Nolan caught her before her knees gave out. His hand closed around her upper arm, hot and unsteady. “Don’t.”

“My brother is in there.” Her voice came out thin. Wrong. Like somebody had scraped it raw with a knife. “Let go of me.”

The black fire under her skin pulsed again.

She sucked in air through her teeth and pressed a hand to her ribs. The curse had been eating at her since the archive room. It crawled under her tattoos in oily little lines, burning cold, then hot, then cold again.

Nolan’s face had gone gray under the gold lights spilling through the curtain gap. He was still bleeding through the side of his shirt. Still standing because apparently Kade men had never heard of lying down before they died.

“You can barely walk,” he said.

“And he’s being sold.”

“Evelyn.”

She shoved at his chest.

Bad choice.

Pain snapped through the marriage mark between them.