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The shop door slammed shut behind them and Mara's hands were already moving. Three deadbolts. Two wards. One blood seal she'd painted herself six months ago when a client tried to follow her home.
Julian leaned against the counter, breathing hard. His shirt was stuck to his ribs with sweat and probably blood from her shoulder. Their shoulder. Whatever.
"How long do we have?" he asked.
Mara didn't answer. She was staring at the key in her palm. The one Elias had spoken through. It was still hot. Not burning, but close. Like it had a pulse.
"Mara."
"I don't know." She shoved the key into her jacket pocket and moved to the back wall. Her locksmith tools hung there in neat rows. Sixty-three picks. Forty-two tension wrenches. Eighteen blood vials for contract work she didn't take anymore. "He knows where we are. He's always known."
"Then we leave."
"To where?" She grabbed a leather roll from the top shelf and started filling it. The good picks. The ones her dad had made before he died. "The docks? Nia's probably halfway to the border by now. Every smuggler in Greyhaven just watched their cargo wards fail. They're not sticking around to help."
Julian pushed off the counter. Walked over. His footsteps were too quiet for someone his size. That was another thing she'd noticed. He moved like he'd been trained to. "Your brother wants me alive."
"For now."
"Which means he won't burn down your shop with us inside."
Mara's hands stopped. She turned. "You don't know him."
"I know contract law. He needs me functional. That gives us—"
The key in her pocket screamed.
Not Elias's voice this time. Just sound. High and sharp and wrong, like metal tearing. Mara yanked it out and it was glowing. Red lines crawled across the brass, forming symbols she didn't recognize. The heat seared her palm but she couldn't let go.
Julian grabbed her wrist. "Drop it."
"I can't."
"Mara—"
"I can't!" Her fingers were locked. The key was burning into her skin now and she could smell it. Her own flesh. The symbols kept spreading, up her wrist, under her sleeve. They moved like they were alive.
Julian said something she didn't catch. Then his hand closed over hers and the key together. She felt his contract marks flare. The ones on his forearms. The light from them was cold and white and when it hit the red glow they made a sound like glass cracking.
The key fell.
Mara's hand was a mess. Blisters across her palm. The symbols were still there, burned in, but they'd stopped moving. She was shaking. She didn't realize it until Julian caught her by the shoulders.
"Sit," he said.
"I'm fine."
"You're bleeding and burned and we're both running on maybe six hours of sleep in the last three days. Sit."
She sat. On the floor. Her legs just gave out. The key was on the ground between them. Still glowing. Still wrong.
Julian crouched in front of her. Pulled a water bottle from somewhere and made her drink. It tasted like rust. Everything tasted like rust lately.
"He's escalating," Julian said quietly.
"Yeah. I got that."
"I mean he's not just tracking us. He's trying to force a connection. That key is tied to you now." Julian nodded at her burned palm. "Those marks. They're anchor points."
Mara looked down. The symbols were fading but she could still see them. Loops and lines that didn't make sense until you knew what you were looking at. She'd seen marks like this before. On corpses in the contract morgue. People who'd tried to break blood oaths and had the magic eat them from the inside.
"He's turning me into bait," she said.
"Or a leash."
That was worse. She closed her hand into a fist. The blisters pulled and she welcomed the pain because it meant she could still feel something that wasn't his.
Footsteps outside. Heavy. Multiple sets. Mara's head snapped up.
Julian heard them too. He moved to the window. Looked out through the gap in the shutters. His jaw tightened. "Contract hunters."
"How many?"
"Four. Maybe five. They're setting up a perimeter."
Mara pushed herself to her feet. Her shoulder screamed. Her hand screamed louder. She ignored both and crossed to the weapons cabinet. It wasn't much. A crowbar. Two knives. A garrote wire she'd bought off a guy who said it could cut through wards. She'd never tested it.
Julian was still at the window. "They're not moving in. Just watching."
"They're waiting for orders." Mara pulled one of the knives. It was short and ugly and the blade had a red tint that meant blood iron. Expensive. She'd taken it off a client who couldn't pay. "Elias wants to make sure we don't run before he gets here."
"Then we run now."
"They've got the front and the alley. Back exit goes into the sewer and they'll have that covered too." She tested the knife's weight. It felt wrong in her burned hand. "We're locked in."
Julian turned away from the window. Looked at her. Really looked. His eyes were still that too-light gray but there was something else now. Something that made her want to step back even though he hadn't moved.
"I can get us out," he said.
"How?"
"My family's oaths. The ones I'm bound to. They're not all broken." He held up his left arm. The contract marks there were glowing faint white. "I've got a protection clause that extends to anyone under my custody."
"I'm not under your custody."
"You are if I say you are. And if I activate it, the hunters can't touch you without violating a Rook family contract. They won't risk that. Not even for Elias."
Mara stared at him. "What's the price?"
"What?"
"Every contract has a price. What do I owe you?"
Julian's expression didn't change but something in his eyes did. "Nothing."
"Bullshit."
"Mara—"
"Everything in this city has a price and your family wrote half the rules. So what. Do. I. Owe."
He was quiet for three seconds. Then he said, "You have to stay within ten feet of me until the clause expires."
"How long?"
"Seventy-two hours."
Three days. Three days stuck to the man who might have killed her brother. Or known who did. Three days letting a Rook family oath wrap around her throat.
The footsteps outside got louder. Closer. Someone was coming up to the door.
Mara looked at the knife in her hand. At the key on the floor. At Julian, who was waiting for her answer like he already knew what it would be.
"Do it," she said.
Julian didn't hesitate. He pulled a small blade from his belt. It was thin and sharp and the handle was wrapped in gold wire. A blood blade. The kind you used for oaths. He drew it across his left palm. Fast. Clean. The blood welled up black and wrong.
Mara felt the cut open across her ribs.
She gasped. Fell against the counter. Her hand went to her side and came away red. Not his blood. Hers. The same cut. The exact same angle.
Julian caught her before she hit the floor. "Mara—"
"What the hell did you do?" She could barely breathe. The pain was white and sharp and spreading.
"I don't know." He sounded panicked. Actually panicked. "That's not—it's not supposed to—"
"Julian."
"It's the bond. The one from the tower. It's feeding off the oath. Mara, I swear I didn't—"
The key on the floor started whispering.
Not Elias this time. Not the scream from before. This was different. Soft. Barely audible. But Mara heard it clear as glass.
*He isn't the hostage. He's your lock.*
The door exploded inward. Contract hunters poured through. Five of them. All armed. All wearing the gray-and-black of the city's enforcement guild. The lead one had a crossbow aimed at Julian's chest.
"Julian Rook," the hunter said. "You're bound by order of Judge Voss."
Julian's hand tightened on Mara's shoulder. His blood was still dripping. Hers too. She could feel it. Both wounds. Both pains. Layered over each other until she couldn't tell which was which.
The key kept whispering.
*Your lock. Your lock. Your lock.*
And Mara realized what her brother had done.
He hadn't tied Julian to her to keep him alive. He'd tied Julian to her so she'd be the one to bring him in. Because every step Julian took toward Elias would drag her with him. Every wound he took would tear her open. Every choice he made would be hers too.
She wasn't the hostage. She was the chain.
The hunter with the crossbow stepped forward. "Come quietly and the girl doesn't get hurt."
Julian didn't move. His contract marks were blazing now. White light crawling up both arms. When he spoke his voice was different. Older. Colder. The voice of someone who'd signed a thousand oaths and knew exactly what each one cost.
"She's under my custody," he said. "By right of the Rook family protection clause, subsection seven, paragraph twelve. Touch her and you violate a blood contract older than this city."
The hunter hesitated. Looked at his partner. Back at Julian. "The Judge said—"
"I don't care what Elias said. She's mine." Julian's eyes were pure light now. No gray left. "And I'm hers. So if you want me, you're going to have to take us both."
The key's whisper turned into a laugh.
And the shop lights went out.