Chapter 63 · Choose Who Drowns

The next pulse blew a strip of metal loose from the ceiling. It slammed down behind us hard enough to shake the platform.

Dax ducked. "Thirty seconds just became ten. Do whatever dramatic mate thing you're gonna do."

Ronan turned toward the core.

I slapped my hand over his.

Our fingers pressed against the black glass.

The chamber froze.

No spray. No grinding metal. No Dax yelling from the blast gate.

Just Ronan's hand beneath mine, his pulse kicking against my palm.

"Say it," he whispered.

"Say what?"

"That you're choosing this. Not the bond. Not the council." His eyes locked on mine. "Me."

My throat tightened. "You don't get to demand that."

"I need to hear it."

"You need to stop turning every disaster into a damn confession."

"Mara."

The core beat under our hands.

I leaned closer before I could stop myself. His shoulder brushed mine. Heat soaked through my wet clothes, and his scent cut through the salt and hot metal—warm skin, smoke, and the one thing my body recognized even when my pride wanted to bite him.

"I'm choosing the city," I said.

His fingers tightened beneath mine.

"Liar."

I looked up at him. "Fine.