Chapter 25 · The Lawman at Her Door

"Don't move another inch, Vance. Or I'll let the cuffs do the talking."

I froze. The cold steel in Dax's voice hit me harder than the handcuffs he was rattling. I looked up, but it wasn't him. Not *my* Dax. This man had the same sharp jaw, the same predatory eyes, but the warmth was dead. It was like looking at a statue of the man I loved, carved from ice and hatred.

"Dax?" My voice cracked. "You... you remember, right? The vault? The bell?"

He didn't even blink. He stepped into my space, smelling of expensive tobacco and ozone. He grabbed my wrist—hard—and slammed it against the peeling wallpaper. The pressure was clinical. He wasn't holding me; he was securing a target.

"I remember you're a thief with a Class-S artifact," he snapped. "And lying to a Chief Judge is a fast track to the gallows. Where's the silver heart?"

I gasped, my chest heaving against the wall. "You idiot. We *did* this! You told me you loved me! You pushed me out of the vault so I could live!"

Dax paused. He tilted his head, scanning my face like I was a specimen under a microscope.