"Open this door, Inquisitor, or we drag both of you out in chains!" The guards slammed their shoulders into the interrogation-room door.
Sloane's fist was still twisted in Kael's collar. Her face sat inches from his, cold and furious, while the fresh black mark at his throat pulsed against her matching brand.
"You changed the pact," she said.
"You left the wording sloppy. That's not my fault."
"You chained me to an outlaw."
"You were the one holding the execution order."
The door shook again. Dust dropped from the ceiling between them.
Sloane shoved him back against the table. The edge cut into his spine. Her pistol pressed under his jaw, hard enough to make his teeth click.
"Give me one reason," she whispered, "not to put a bullet through your skull before they break in."
Kael grabbed her wrist. Her pulse jumped beneath his fingers. The brand on his neck went hot, and Sloane sucked in a sharp breath as the same pain flashed across her skin.
"Because if you kill me," he said, "you lose the only person who can make that rifle fire tomorrow."
Her eyes dropped to his mouth for half a second.
He noticed. She noticed him noticing.
"Try that smug little look again," she said, "and I will make your last few seconds very educational."
"You keep saying that like you have a lot of options."
The guards hit the door a third time. The lock groaned.
Sloane pulled Kael forward by his collar and jammed her forehead against his. Her breath brushed his cheek, warm and fast. She smelled like metal, smoke, and the bitter coffee she had forced down during his interrogation.
"Listen carefully," she said. "Victor's guard detail is outside. They have orders to take you to the gallows. If they see this mark on me, they will take me too."
"So we run."
"We don't run. We move through the service tunnels, reach the Foundry, and retrieve my weapon before Victor's people get there."
"You mean we steal it."
"You mean you fix it."
"And if I refuse?"
Sloane pushed the pistol harder under his jaw. "I shoot you, then tell them you attacked me. The pact will punish me, sure. But I can survive a burn. You won't survive a bullet."
Kael smiled without showing teeth. "There she is. I was worried the shared pain made you nicer."
"Don't confuse restraint with kindness."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
She released his collar and crossed to the wall panel. Her fingers moved over three brass studs. A section of stone clicked, then folded inward.
A narrow maintenance shaft opened behind it.
Kael stared at the gap. "That was under the questioning room the whole time?"
"You talk too much."
"You build secret exits under interrogation rooms. We both have hobbies."
She grabbed the back of his coat and shoved him into the shaft.
"Move."
"After you."
"You want me to shoot you from behind?"
"I want to know if the Inquisitor has the courage to go first."
Sloane stepped into the darkness. Her shoulder brushed his chest as she passed. The contact lasted less than a second, but the mark at his throat answered with a tight, electric pull.
She stopped.
Kael nearly walked into her.
"Did you feel that?" he asked.
"No."
"Liar."
She turned, and the tiny shaft left them almost nose to nose. Her palm landed against his chest to keep him from moving. Through his shirt, he felt the heat of her hand.
"The pact reacts when one of us lies about a direct question," she said. "It also reacts to deliberate betrayal, physical harm, and attempts to sever the bond."
"You forgot the part where one of us can feel the other."
"I didn't forget. I didn't tell you."
"That's comforting."
"You should be terrified."
"I am. Mostly of your terrible communication skills."
The door behind them burst open.
Boots thundered into the interrogation room.
"Search the chamber!" a guard shouted. "The prisoner and Inquisitor are still inside!"
Sloane's hand closed around Kael's shirt again. She pulled him down as the shaft door folded shut. They crouched in darkness, pressed shoulder to shoulder, while armored footsteps clanged over the hidden panel.
Kael's knee touched hers. Neither moved.
A guard struck the wall. "Where are they?"
"Check the vents," another said. "Victor wants the mechanic alive. The Inquisitor is expendable if she resists."
Sloane's fingers tightened against Kael's chest.
He leaned close to her ear. "Hear that? You're expendable."
"Keep whispering and I will make you expendable first."
"You already tried."
"I should try harder."
The boots stopped above them.
Kael held his breath. Sloane's body pressed against his side, her shoulder tucked beneath his arm because the shaft was too narrow for anything else. Her hair brushed his chin when she turned her head.
"Don't move," she breathed.
"I wasn't planning to. You have a gun on my ribs."
"Then stop talking."
"You keep asking impossible things."
The guard above kicked the wall panel. The hidden hinges held.
After a long second, the footsteps moved away.
Sloane waited until the voices faded, then dragged Kael deeper into the tunnel. The shaft opened into a cramped metal passage that ran beneath the prison. Pipes crowded the ceiling. Red lamps blinked along the floor, each one throwing a thin stripe across their boots.
Kael touched the brand at his neck. It was still hot.
"Your fault," Sloane said.
"You said the bond reacts to lies."
"I said nothing about blame."
"Your pulse says otherwise."