Chapter 42 · The Lock Takes Blood

"Take the blade off my throat, Ronan, or use it. Pick one."

The knife pressed harder.

Ronan's chest pinned my back. His breath burned against my ear, hot and uneven. The covenant dragged every piece of his pain through my ribs like broken glass.

"You walked into my head," he said.

"You dragged me there."

"You heard the code."

"I heard you forget my name. Big difference."

His fingers crushed my wrist. Beneath our boots, the metal ring under Gate Seven shuddered. Something huge slammed against the sealed shaft below us.

Celia rammed her shoulder into the gate wheel. "You two done flirting with murder? The pressure's rising."

"We're not flirting," I snapped.

Ronan's knife stayed at my throat. "You were inside my memories without permission."

"And you were about to cut my heart out because the Director planted a false memory in your head. Sorry I didn't stop for paperwork."

The blade shifted.

A thin line opened beneath my collar. Warm blood slipped down my skin.

Ronan went still.

His eyes caught mine over my shoulder. Gray. Furious. Terrified. He'd rather bite through steel than admit that last part.

"You know what happens if the Director's blood deal survives?"