Chapter 22 · “Careful,” she whispered. His throat tightened against the

“Careful,” she whispered.

His throat tightened against the cool edge. He didn’t move. “You’re the one who dragged me into your house, chained my life to yours, and now wants me to fix a murder weapon.”

“It isn’t a murder weapon.”

“It’s a rifle.”

“It belonged to my mother.”

Kael studied her face. “You said your mother died in the purge.”

“I said she was declared dead.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“No. It isn’t.”

The rifle fired from somewhere ahead.

Sloane pulled Kael down by the collar. The bullet screamed over them and buried itself in the brick. Dust struck his face. Her body covered his again, one arm across his chest, her cheek inches from his.

“Don’t move,” she breathed.

“You keep saying that.”

“Because you keep moving.”

“Your knife’s still on my throat.”

“Then stop making me nervous.”

Kael looked at the tight line of her mouth. “I make you nervous?”

Her eyes cut to his. “You make everything worse.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

She pressed the knife a little closer. “You want to flirt while something is hunting us?”

“I want to know if you’re going to stab me.”

“You’d know.”

“That’s not comforting.