Chapter 21 · Cracks in the Inquisitor

“Don’t move.”

Kael froze with one boot half off the floor.

The antique rifle had lifted by itself.

It hovered above the workbench, brass fittings clicking, its long barrel aimed straight between his eyes. No hand held it. No wire pulled it. The weapon’s cracked wooden stock twitched like it was breathing.

Sloane stepped in front of him.

“Get behind me.”

“Behind you?” Kael kept his eyes on the rifle. “That thing’s pointed at my face.”

“And you’re standing exactly where it wants you.”

The resonance mark at the back of his neck burned cold. His pact answered hers through the narrow space between them, a sharp pull beneath his skin. Sloane’s shoulder brushed his chest as she raised one gloved hand toward the rifle.

The barrel tracked her.

Kael caught her wrist. “Don’t touch it.”

Her gaze snapped to him. “You just grabbed an Inquisitor.”

“You just tried to pet a loaded gun.”

“It isn’t loaded.”

The rifle clicked.

A brass chamber slid open. A black cartridge rolled into place.

Kael’s grip tightened around her wrist. “Want to try that sentence again?”

Sloane’s pulse jumped against his fingers. She looked down at his hand, then back at the weapon.