"Tell me the case code, Mara, or I hand you back to the tribunal before this train clears the yard." Dorian Vale held my signed marriage contract between two fingers. "Your choice. Thirty days as my wife—or a rope before sundown."
"You keep calling it a choice like you didn't put a pistol on the table."
"The pistol was for the guards. The contract is for you."
His voice stayed calm. That was the worst part. He could threaten my life without even breathing harder while the ink from our forced vows was still drying on the seal.
I reached for the contract.
Dorian pulled it out of reach.
"Where's the case?" he asked.
"You married me for a box?"
"I married you because three officers are dead, an armored train is missing half its crew, and your name is on the order that caused the blast."
"My name was forged."
"Then prove it."
"Give me the case."
His gray eyes dropped to my mouth for half a second. Not long enough to call it desire. Long enough for my skin to tighten beneath my collar.
"You don't get to make demands," he said. "Not when your brother's sitting in military custody, waiting for his own hearing."
There it was. The knife he'd been saving.
I leaned closer until the table edge dug into my ribs. "Touch my brother, and the case code dies with me."
"You think I need your permission?"
"No. I think you need my brain attached to my body."
His jaw flexed.
Outside the narrow train window, uniformed officers moved along the platform. Cameras tracked every inch of the commander's private carriage—the newlyweds shoved inside, the dangerous woman, the officer who'd forced her to sign.
Dorian caught me looking.
"Smile," he said.
"Go to hell."
"The cameras are recording our first night as husband and wife. If we look hostile, the emergency marriage law gets challenged before we reach the northern line."
"You want me to look devoted?"
"I want you alive. Pretend those are the same thing."
He stood and came around the table. His dark coat brushed my knee. Heat rolled off him through the wool, carrying the clean bite of soap and gun oil.
I stayed seated. "Don't touch me."
"Then put your hand in mine."
"You really think I take orders from the man hunting me?"
"I think you take orders when your brother is the price."
He held out his hand.
I looked at it, then at the cameras beyond the glass. A guard raised two fingers. The carriage doors were about to lock.
Fine.
I slapped my palm into Dorian's.
His fingers closed around mine at once. Warm. Firm. Too careful for a man who'd dragged me into marriage at gunpoint.
"That look is terrible," he murmured.
"I'm imagining your funeral."
"Try harder."
He tugged me to my feet and pulled me against his chest.
The cameras flashed.
"Put your arm around me," he said.
"Put your head through the window."
"Mara."
His hand settled at my waist. The pressure was light. The message wasn't. One obvious fight, and my brother disappeared into a cell no one could reach.
I wrapped my arm around his neck.
His breath caught.
Just once.
That tiny mistake felt better than any weapon in the room.
"You're nervous," I whispered.
"I'm restraining myself."
"From what?"
"From letting you fall when you keep trying to step on my boots."
The carriage lurched forward.
I stumbled. Dorian caught me against him, one hand spreading across my lower back. My cheek struck his shoulder. Beneath the wool, his body was hard and steady.
The platform slid away. The officers vanished behind the glass.
Only then did he let me go.
I shoved his chest. "Where is the case?"
"In my private car."
"You brought it aboard?"
"I brought everything that can keep us alive."
"You mean everything you can steal from me."
"If I wanted to steal it, you wouldn't be standing here arguing."
"No. I'd be chained to a wall."
His mouth went flat. "Don't test how close that option is."
There it was again. The rank. The command. The assumption that my life fit inside his orders.
I stepped past him and grabbed the handle of the inner door.
Dorian caught my wrist.
"Where are you going?"
"To see my property."
"You don't have property anymore. You signed the contract."
"That contract says you protect me and my brother. It doesn't say you get to keep the evidence."
"It says the evidence stays under military custody."
"It says nothing about your private car."
His thumb pressed against the inside of my wrist. My pulse jumped beneath it. His eyes dropped to the movement.
I hated that he noticed.
I hated more that he didn't let go.
"Why do you need the case so badly?" I asked.
"Why did you hide it from your own command?"
"Because my own command blew up a train full of soldiers."
"And you know who gave the order?"