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"Don't move. Not a single muscle, or I'll see if your brain works better as a smear on the pavement."
Kane’s voice was a low, dangerous rasp right against my ear. He had me pinned against the damp brick of the alleyway, his forearm crushing my windpipe just enough to make every breath a fight. The cold muzzle of his gun was pressed firmly into the soft skin beneath my jaw, forcing my head back.
I could smell him—expensive cologne mixed with something metallic, like ozone and sterilized steel. It was the smell of the Upper District. The smell of the people who played god with our genes while we rotted in the slums.
"You're shaking, little thief," he whispered. His grip tightened. "Where's the stabilizer?"
"I don't... know what you're talking about," I gasped, my fingers clawing at his sleeve.
"Lie to me again and I'll stop being patient." He shifted his weight, pressing his chest hard against mine. I could feel the heat radiating off him, an unnatural, humming warmth that didn't feel human.
I stopped breathing for a second. Right there, through the fabric of his tactical gear, I felt it. A beat. Not a normal heart. It was a heavy, rhythmic thrum, like a machine idling. It was too fast, too powerful.
"You're one of them," I spat, the words coming out jagged. "A corporate pet. A lab rat in a fancy suit."
Kane chuckled, but there was no humor in it. He leaned in closer, his lips almost touching my temple. "A lab rat who owns the cage. Now, the drug. Who are you running it for? The Syndicate? The Archivists? Give me a name, and maybe I'll let you walk out of here with your tongue."
I glared at him, my eyes watering from the pressure on my throat. "I don't work for anyone. I just take what you people steal from us first."
"Noble. Pathetic, but noble." He suddenly shoved me harder against the wall, the impact rattling my teeth. He reached into my jacket pocket, ripping the small, glowing vial of gene stabilizer out with a violent jerk. "Found it. Now, let's talk about why you're so desperate to keep this. Who's dying? A brother? A lover? Someone whose name isn't even in the registry?"
I lunged for the vial, my shoulder slamming into his chest, but he didn't even budge. He stepped back, holding the medicine high above his head, a cruel smirk playing on his lips.
"Trying to fight back? I love that. It makes the breaking part so much more satisfying."
"Give it back, you bastard!" I screamed, reaching again.
Suddenly, Kane froze.
His smirk vanished. His face went pale, a sudden, ghostly white that made the dark circles under his eyes look like bruises. He let out a sharp, choked sound—half-gasp, half-groan—and the vial slipped from his fingers. It clattered on the concrete, miraculously unbroken.
He didn't go for the drug. He went for his chest.
Kane collapsed to one knee, his hand clutching his sternum as if he were trying to rip his own heart out through his ribs. His breathing became a series of violent, wet heaves.
I stared at him, frozen. This was the heir to the Rusk empire. The most feared hunter in the city. And he was curling into a ball on a dirty alley floor, gasping for air like a fish out of water.
"What... what's happening?" I whispered, stepping back.
"Get... away..." he managed to choke out.
I didn't get away. I looked at the vial, then at him. Something was wrong. His chest wasn't just heaving; it was glowing. A faint, pulsing crimson light was bleeding through his shirt, timed perfectly with that mechanical thrum I'd felt earlier.
I knelt beside him, not because I cared, but because I wanted to see the monster break. "What is this? Some kind of corporate glitch? Did your heart just decide it's bored of you?"
Kane's eyes snapped to mine. They were bloodshot, filled with a mixture of agony and pure, unadulterated rage. He tried to grab my wrist, his grip still strong even in his collapse, but he lacked the leverage.
"It's... locked," he hissed, his voice sounding like grinding gears. "The pulse... it's syncing."
"Syncing to what?"
As if in answer, a sharp, electronic chime echoed from his chest. A holographic display flickered into existence, hovering just inches above his skin. It was a countdown.
06:59:59.
And right next to it, a secondary signal. A waveform. My waveform.
I recoiled, my heart hammering against my ribs. "What the hell is that? Why is my pulse on your chest?"
"The contract," Kane groaned, his head dropping back against the brick. "The stabilizer... it didn't just lock the drug. It locked... us."
I stared at the numbers. Six days and twenty-three hours. "You're joking. Tell me you're joking."
"I don't... joke about... cardiac arrest," he wheezed. He looked up at me, his gaze predatory even while he was dying. "If we move too far apart... the sync breaks. My heart stops. And since it's locked to yours... yours stops too."
I let out a sharp, hysterical laugh. "You've got to be kidding me. I'm tied to you? To a guy who just tried to strangle me?"
"Welcome to... a partnership," Kane whispered, a grimace of pain twisting his features. "Now pick up the vial, you idiot. Before someone else finds it."
I snatched the stabilizer off the ground, clutching it to my chest. I looked at him—this broken, powerful man—and then at the exit of the alley. I could run. I could leave him here to rot and see if the 'contract' was actually real.
I took three steps away.
Immediately, a searing pain shot through my chest. It felt like a hot needle had been driven straight through my heart. I gasped, collapsing to my knees, my vision blurring.
"Told you," Kane's voice came from behind me, sounding strained but smug. "Come back here, Mara. Or we both die in the next ten seconds."
I crawled back to him, panting, my chest still aching. I hated him. I hated every polished, corporate inch of him. But as I looked at the countdown, I realized the power had shifted.
He was the hunter, but I was the anchor.
"You need me to stay close," I said, my voice regaining its edge. "That means you don't touch me. You don't threaten me. And you definitely don't call me 'little thief' ever again."
Kane managed a weak, bloodless smile. "Don't get cocky. I can still kill you with my bare hands before the heart failure kicks in."
"Try it," I snapped, leaning in close, my face inches from his. "And I'll see how fast your heart stops when I decide to walk toward the city gates."
He stared at me, the tension between us thick and electric. For a moment, neither of us moved. I could feel his breath on my lips, the heat of his skin, the desperate, rhythmic thud of the machine in his chest. It was a terrifying, intimate proximity.
Suddenly, the device on his wrist beeped. A high-priority transmission.
Kane stiffened. He reached for the comms, his fingers trembling. He pressed the receiver to his ear, his expression turning stone-cold.
I watched him, waiting for the order to bring him home. But as the voice on the other end spoke, Kane’s eyes widened. The color drained from his face again, but this time it wasn't pain. It was shock.
He slowly lowered the comms, staring at me as if I were a ghost.
"What did they say?" I asked.
Kane didn't answer for a long time. He just looked at the countdown, then back at me.
"The order just changed," he whispered. "They aren't looking for the drug anymore. They're wiping all failed subjects. All of them."
"What does that mean?"
"It means," Kane said, his voice void of emotion, "that they just ordered me to be executed. And since we're synced..."