Chapter 15 · The Price of a Name

"Step away from the lock, Lorne. Now."

Cade’s voice was a jagged rasp. The command hit me like a physical blow. He didn't move—couldn't—but his hand clamped around my wrist, cold and trembling. He was half-dead, chest barely heaving, but his eyes were wide, tracking the black door behind me with raw, animal panic.

"It’s talking, Cade," I whispered. My voice shook. "It knows about her. My mother."

"It doesn't know shit," he spat, dragging me back an inch. "It’s a door, Lorne. A piece of hungry architecture. It doesn't give gifts. It makes trades."

I wrenched my arm away. The door wasn't just wood and iron anymore. It was humming. A low-frequency vibration that rattled my teeth. The whispers weren't in the air; they were echoing inside my skull. A woman’s voice, distorted and distant, calling a name I’d only seen in one charred photograph.

"I don't care what it is," I snapped. I turned back to the lock. "I’ve spent nineteen years wondering why I was dumped in a gutter in Greyhaven. If this thing has the answer, I’m taking it."

"At what cost?" Cade hissed.