"Drop it, Mara. Now."
His palm hit the brick by my ear before I could breathe.
The Silver Heart was humming against my ribs, hot through the lining of my coat. Too hot. Too loud.
"You took your time, Dax," I said. "Three blocks and you still can't catch a girl right?"
"You call that running?" He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. "You call stealing from the Vault running?"
He stepped in. Black coat. Silver buttons. Boots clicking on wet stone.
"You don't own the Vault," I said.
"I own the ledger that says who dies for touching it," he said. "Hands up. Coat open. Now."
"Make me."
He did.
He slammed me back against the wall. Not hard enough to break me. Hard enough I felt it in my teeth. One hand by my ear. The other locked around my wrist like a cuff.
"You're shaking," he said.
"I'm cold."
"You're lying."
His breath hit my cheek. Mint. Metal. Expensive wool and that old-ink smell that never left him.
I twisted. Tried to yank free. His grip just tightened.
"Let go, you arrogant prick," I snapped.
"Say please," he said. "Or say who paid you. Which one's easier?"
"No one paid me. I'm redistributing."
"Bullshit. You're desperate. Who's it for? Another ghost you're trying to buy back?"
I drove my knee up. He shifted, blocked it with his hip — and that put him closer. Chest to chest. Heat right through my thin shirt.
"Close enough?" he murmured.
"Too close," I said, but I didn't look away.
His eyes dropped. Half a second to my mouth. Then back up. That half second burned.
I jerked my wrist again. His sleeve slipped.
And I saw it.
Black. Jagged. Veins of ink spreading through his palm. Not a scar. A mark. A contract mark.
Just like the one eating up my forearm.
I froze. "Where'd you get that?"
He didn't hide it. He pressed his palm flat against my wrist. Skin to skin. Hot. The ink seemed to pulse.
"You shouldn't ask questions you can't pay for," he said, voice low.
"Answer me."
"You first. Where'd you get yours?"
"None of your business."
"Wrong answer." He pinned both my wrists above my head in one move. Smooth. Practiced. "The Heart, Mara. Give it to me. Or I let the Watch drag you to the gallows by your hair. Your choice."
"Go to hell."
"Already there. You're just visiting."
I reached for the shiv in my boot — stupid, with my hands trapped — but he saw it. He leaned in. Inches now. I could see gold flecks in his eyes.
"You think you're special 'cause you can run the dead-routes?" he said. "You're a corpse-runner. A scavenger."
"I'm the only runner who can get in without tripping the alarms," I shot back. "You need me. You want the Bell and you can't find it without me. Admit it."
"I don't need a thief," he said softly. "I need a tool."
"Then find another tool."
"Can't." His chest brushed mine as he breathed. Wool rough against my shirt. "You're the only brat dumb enough to try."
"I've outrun you for three blocks," I said.
"And yet—" his fingers tightened just enough to make my pulse jump under his thumb, "—here you are. Pinned. Breathing hard. Looking at me like you wanna bite me."
"Maybe I do."
That made him laugh. Sharp. No humor in it.
"You're stubborn," he whispered. "Delusional. You think you can outrun the clock."
The ground hummed.
Low. Deep. Through my boots. Through my teeth.
The air went heavy. Tasted like ozone and old blood.
I stiffened. "The bell."
He didn't let go. If anything he pulled me closer. His hand slid from my wrists to my elbow, holding me steady.
"Last bell of the cycle," he said. "You know what happens, right?"
"The city resets," I whispered. "Everything goes back."
"Not everything," he said. "Some debts carry over."
"Let me go! I can make the safe zone if I—"
"There is no safe zone tonight," he cut in. "The Vault's leaking. This reset's deeper."
The bell tolled.
Not a sound. A hit. The whole alley shook. Windows blew out above us. The cobblestones under my feet swam, went grey, went mist.
"Dax!" I screamed. My voice sounded underwater.
He didn't flinch. His grip loosened as the world tore. For a second his fingers just grazed my cheek. Light. Barely there. Warm.
Then white.
Needles. A thousand of them stitching my skin. Memories tugging, ripping. My brother's face — his smile before the fever — then a chunk of it just... gone. Cold air where it was.
I hit ground. Hard.
Wet stone. Rust and oil. Same alley. Same stink.
The Heart was gone from my coat. Back in the Vault.
I pushed up on shaking arms. Gasping.
I remembered. Every death. Ten cycles. All of it.
And at the end of the alley —
Black coat. Silver buttons.
Dax.
Watching me. Not a hair out of place.
"You remember," I choked out.
He walked toward me. Click. Click. Click.
"I remember everything, Mara," he said. "Including how you tried to cheat me."
He pulled a small leather book from his pocket. A ledger.
"The contract's not just in the skin," he said, flipping it open. "It's in the ink."
He held it up.
My name. Fresh ink. Elegant. Cruel.
"Mara Vance," he read. "Signed and sealed. Three years before you were born."
I stared at it. My mouth dry.
"So tell me," he said, stepping so close I felt his heat again, his eyes locked on mine, "who the hell signed your name for you?"