Chapter 12 · Blood in the Rivets

"Take your hand off the rifle, Kael." Sloane's blade pressed under his jaw before his fingers reached the trigger guard.

He stopped with two fingers against cold metal. Her body pinned him against the workbench, one knee between his boots, her coat brushing his chest every time she breathed. The forbidden rifle lay open beneath them, its brass plates removed and its inner gears exposed.

"You said it was safe," he said.

"I said it was quiet. Those aren't the same thing."

"You dragged me into a locked room, shoved a live weapon in my face, and now you're blaming me for noticing it wants to kill us?"

"It doesn't want anything." Her grip tightened. "You do. That's the problem."

Kael glanced down at the rifle. Three tiny gear teeth were turning without a drive spring. They clicked against the chamber in a fast, nervous rhythm.

"Move the blade."

"Give me your hand."

"No."

"Then keep it away from the weapon."

"You first."

For half a second, Sloane's eyes dropped to his mouth. It was quick. Barely there. Kael caught it anyway.

Her knife shifted higher.

"Don't try that with me."

"Try what?"

"Whatever you think that look buys you."