"Stop pretending you don't know why you're here."
Dax didn't just speak—he invaded. He crowded into my space, chest nearly brushing my shoulder, pinning me against the damp brick of the alley. He held the ledger open, the heavy vellum pages snapping in the wind.
"Your name is on the first page, Mara. Signed, sealed, and dated ten years before you were even born. Explain that, or I'll let the next reset take your tongue along with your memories."
I glared up at him, breath hitching. The air tasted of ozone and old blood—the metallic stink of the city's reset. My wrist throbbed where he’d gripped me.
"I don't know what kind of sick joke this is," I spat, shoving at his chest. He didn't budge. It was like hitting a wall of granite.
"I’m a runner. I steal. I don't sign contracts with ghost-books."
"You're a liar."
His voice dropped an octave, turning into a low murmur. He leaned in closer. I could feel the heat radiating off him, a sharp contrast to the freezing mist settling around us. He shifted his grip, his thumb brushing against the black scar on my palm.
An electric jolt shot through me. Not pain—something jagged and hungry that made my stomach flip.
"You remember the deaths, don't you?" he whispered. "The glass shattering in your lungs. The taste of the fire. You remember it all, and yet you're playing the confused little bird."
I flinched, wrenching my hand away. "I remember my brother. That's all. If this book tells me where he is, fine. But don't act like my savior, Calder. You hunt me for a living."
Dax let out a short, cold laugh. He stepped back just enough to let me breathe, but his eyes stayed locked on mine. Predatory. Searching for a crack.
"Savior? Please. You're a tool, Mara. A key that doesn't know it's a key. You're the only thing in this godforsaken city that doesn't break when the bell rings."
"Then let me go," I challenged, crossing my arms. "Find another key."
"I can't."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a heavy silver chain. He didn't put it on me—not yet—but let it dangle, the metal clicking rhythmically.
"Because the moment you walk out of my sight, you start forgetting. Not just the city. Not just the loop. You're losing the pieces of yourself that actually matter."
He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Tell me, Mara... do you still remember your brother's middle name?"
I froze. I opened my mouth, but the name... it was gone. A grey void had opened in my mind where the word should have been. A physical wound of silence.
"I... I do. It's—"
"It's gone," Dax whispered.
He stepped back in, closing the gap until I could smell cedar and iron on his skin. He didn't touch me, but the proximity felt like a threat.
"Every reset steals a piece of you. That heart you stole? It's not a trinket. It's the only thing keeping your mind anchored. And I'm the only one who knows how to stop the leak."
I choked back a sob. I hated him. I hated that he held the leash to my own identity. I reached out, grabbing his forearm—not to push, but to anchor myself. His muscles were rock-hard under the fabric.
"Help me," I whispered. The words tasted like poison. "I'll do whatever you want. Just don't let me forget him."
Dax looked down at my hand. For a second, the hardness in his eyes flickered. He didn't pull away. Instead, he shifted, pressing his body against mine, trapping me between the brick and his frame. I could hear his heartbeat—steady, slow, terrifyingly calm.
"Whatever I want?" The words were a vibration against my skin. "That's a dangerous promise to make to a Judge, Mara. I don't do handouts. I take collateral."
"What do you want?"
"Absolute obedience," he said. "You run where I tell you. You steal what I point to. When I tell you to shut up, you don't breathe unless I give you permission. In exchange, I keep your memories. I keep your brother's ghost alive."
I wanted to spit in his face. I wanted to run. But the void in my head was screaming.
"Deal," I snapped.
"Good."
He didn't smile. He snapped the silver chain around my wrist.
Searing heat exploded from the scar on my palm. I gasped, my knees buckling. Dax caught me, his arm sliding around my waist to hold me up. I was pressed tight against him, my face tucked into the crook of his neck. I could feel the rapid thrum of his pulse.
Then I looked at my arm and screamed.
Twenty-seven red marks were carving themselves into my skin, circling my wrist like a countdown. They pulsed with a sickly light, timed to a bell I couldn't hear.
"What is this?" I struggled. "What did you do?"
"The contract is activating," Dax said, his voice tight. He wasn't looking at me. He was staring at the silver heart in my other hand.
One of the marks flared white and vanished, leaving a charred pit in my skin. Suddenly, a vision slammed into me. Vivid. Violent.
I saw this alley. I saw myself on the ground, throat opened. And I saw Dax standing over me, his face cold, the silver heart in his hand.
In the vision, he wasn't saving me. He was the one who killed me.
I jerked away, tripping over rubble. "You... you killed me," I breathed. "In the last loop... it was you."
Dax didn't flinch. He just watched me with those predatory eyes.
"I did," he said, voice flat. "And if you don't do exactly as I say for the next nineteen nights, I'll do it again. Now get up. The swarm is coming."
I stared at him, heart hammering. I wanted to run, but the chain tugged—a physical reminder that I belonged to him.
"Why?" I whispered. "Why kill me if you need me?"
Dax stepped toward me. He leaned down, his lips inches from my ear, his breath warm and dangerous.
"Because some versions of you are too stubborn to cooperate," he whispered. "I'm hoping this one is smarter."
A guttural, wet shriek echoed from the end of the alley. The sound of a thousand scraping claws hit the pavement. Shadows bled forward—a tide of pale, eyeless flesh.
"Run," Dax commanded, yanking my arm. "Or I'll let them start with your legs."
We bolted, boots splashing through oily puddles, the chain clinking between us. But as we turned the corner, I froze.
Under a flickering lamp stood a woman in a tailored black suit. She held a ledger of her own, her eyes fixed on the heart in my hand with a hunger that made Dax look like a saint.
"Calder," she purred, her voice like velvet over glass. "You're late with the delivery. And I see you've brought the key back. Is she still leaking, or have you finally managed to break her?"