Chapter 1

Cade Rourke stood behind me, one hand clamped on my shoulder and the other wrapped around the hilt of his execution blade.

I knew that hand.

I'd watched it draw that blade eight times.

I'd watched it kill me eight different ways.

"You always start with the legs?" I asked. "Getting lazy?"

His fingers tightened.

"You always talk this much before dying?"

"Only when the audience looks bored."

The crowd made a low, hungry sound behind the iron rails. Hundreds of citizens packed the square. Wardens stood between them in black masks.

Above the execution block, the city seal burned blue. Nine linked circles around a blade.

Nine nights.

Nine deaths.

Nine times I'd reached this platform.

And every time, Cade killed me before the final bell.

The first time, he cut my throat.

The second, he drove the blade through my ribs.

The third, he broke my neck with one clean twist.

The fourth, I stabbed him first. He still won.

The fifth, I ran.

The sixth, I begged.

The seventh, I gave him the name of the woman who'd framed me.

The eighth, I did everything right.

He killed me anyway.

This ninth run had started three minutes ago, and I was already out of ideas.

Cade leaned closer. His coat brushed my shoulder. Heat pressed through the fabric, close enough that his breath touched the side of my neck.

"You're staring at my hand," he murmured.

"I'm deciding which finger to break first."

"With your wrists chained?"

"I've done worse with less."

"Not today."

"You sound sure."

"I remember how this ends."

My breath caught.

For one sharp second, the square vanished beneath those words.

I twisted to look at him. His face stayed cold, but his gray eyes held mine without blinking.

"Say that again."

"I said—"

The bell above the platform rang.

Cade hauled me upright by the chain.

"Don't change the subject."

"You're the subject."

"You remember?"

His jaw flexed.

"Walk."

He shoved me toward the center of the block.

I stumbled, then turned the stumble into a lunge. My shoulder slammed into his chest. The chain snapped tight between us.

Cade caught my wrist before I could reach the blade at his hip.

His palm closed around me like iron.

The crowd roared.

"Still trying to steal weapons?" he asked.

"Still carrying them where I can reach them?"

"That wasn't an accident."

"Neither was this."

I stamped on his boot.

Cade didn't flinch. He twisted my wrist behind my back and pressed me against his chest. My cheek struck the cold edge of his shoulder guard. His breath moved against my ear.

"You have three seconds to stop fighting."

"Or what? You kill me?"

"Yes."

"You already do that."

His grip paused.

There. A crack in his control.

I drove my heel backward.

This time, I caught his shin.

Cade cursed and shoved me away. I hit the execution pillar hard enough to rattle my teeth. Blue sparks crawled over the chain.

The city seal pulsed above us.

My fingers went numb.

"What did you do?" Cade demanded.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me."

"Then stop asking questions you already know the answer to."

A warden stepped forward. The hook of his staff pressed beneath my chin.

"Locksmith," he said. "You're charged with breaking three spirit locks, stealing restricted spell patterns, and murdering Institute officials. The sentence is final. Last statement?"

I looked past him at the woman seated beneath the burning seal.

Evelyn Shaw wore white gloves and a silver mask over the left side of her face. Head of the Spirit-Lock Institute. The woman who'd signed my death order eight times.

She raised one gloved hand.

The warden lowered his staff.

"No last statement," Evelyn said. "She's had enough chances to be interesting."

"Funny," I called. "I was about to say the same about you."

A few people laughed.

Evelyn's visible eye narrowed.

Cade jerked my chain.

"You really enjoy making her angry," he said.

"You really enjoy helping her kill me."

"That's my job."

"Your job is executing prisoners. Not protecting the woman who stole my power."

His grip tightened.

"Careful."

"What? She'll make you kill me a ninth time?"

He pulled me close until my back hit his chest again.

"Lower your voice."

"Why? Afraid someone will hear?"

"Afraid you'll say something you can't take back."

"I've died eight times. I'm fresh out of things I can't take back."

That got him.

His breathing changed beside my ear. Rougher. Faster.

I turned my head, trying to catch his expression.

"You do remember," I whispered.

"Stop."

"How many?"

"Lena."

My name in his mouth landed harder than the chain.

He'd never used it before.

Not once.

Every other run, I was thief, traitor, condemned, or girl. Never Lena.

"How many deaths do you remember?" I asked.

"All of them."

The answer came so quietly the crowd couldn't hear it.

I stared at him.

"Then why are you still doing this?"

"Because every time I refuse, they kill someone else."

"Who?"

"Keep walking."

"Who, Cade?"

He shoved me toward the blade stand.

"Answer me!"

The stand waited at the center of the block. A long black sword rested across it, its edge glowing with pale blue runes.

The city called the weapon Mercy.

It had never felt merciful.

The first time, I'd screamed.

The second, I'd bitten Cade's hand.

The third, I'd tried to memorize the spell pattern in the blade.

That had been my first mistake.

The sword wasn't only a weapon. It was a lock—one built into the execution block and fed by every condemned body placed against it.

The ninth lock.

I'd seen the pattern eight times. I'd never held it long enough to break it.

But this time, the runes were different.

One line near the hilt had cracked.

I stopped.

Cade yanked the chain.

"Move."

"The blade changed."

"You noticed."

"Did you do that?"

"No."

"Did Evelyn?"

"No."

The crack widened.

A thin sound came from inside the sword.

Not metal.

Not magic.

A voice.

My voice.

It whispered one word through the execution block.

"Lena."

I stepped toward it.

Cade caught the back of my collar and dragged me away.

"Don't touch it."

"You said you remember everything. Did you hear that before?"

"No."

"You're lying."

"I'm trying to keep you alive."

"You're standing me in front of a sword."

"Because if I don't, they'll use the other method."

"What other method?"

His eyes cut toward the wardens.

Two of them had moved behind me. One carried a black iron lantern. Green fire burned inside the cage.

I knew that lantern.

It didn't kill the body.

It burned the spirit out first.

My mouth went dry.

"You never used that before," I said.

"I didn't have a choice."

"You always have a choice."

"Not here."

"Then make one."

He looked down at me.

For the first time, his control slipped completely. His face stayed hard, but his eyes didn't. They held exhaustion. Anger. Something dangerously close to fear.

I wanted to hate him for that.

Instead, I stepped closer.

"If you remember, then you know I can break the lock."

"You tried."

"I was dead before I finished."

"You'll be dead again."

"Not if you help me."

"You think I haven't tried?"

"I think you tried the easy way."

His brows drew together.

"There's an easy way?"

"You kill me before I reach the lock. Stop doing that."

A sharp laugh escaped him. It sounded wrong coming from the man who'd killed me eight times.

"You want me to fake your death?"

"I want you to do your job badly."

"In front of the whole city?"

"You're the city executioner. They'll believe you."

"And when they don't?"

"Then we both die. You're used to that part."

His thumb pressed against the inside of my wrist.

The contact lasted less than a second. Bare skin. Warm hand. His pulse beat against mine.

The chain between us flickered.

Cade felt it too.

His gaze dropped to our wrists.

A thin red mark had appeared beneath the iron links. It curved around both of us, connecting my skin to his.

"What is that?" I asked.

"Don't move."

"You say that like it's ever worked."

The mark burned.

I sucked in a breath.

Cade caught my wrist again, but this time he wasn't restraining me. He held me steady as red light crawled from my skin to his.

The crowd fell silent.

Evelyn shot to her feet. Her chair scraped across the stone.

"Cade! Step away from her!"

He didn't move.

"What did you do?" Evelyn demanded.

"Nothing," he said.

"Break the link. Now."

"I can't."

"You can, and you will."

I looked at the mark.

A blood pact.

I'd seen the shape in stolen Institute records. A pact made by two living bodies under a spirit lock. The stronger party could control the weaker one—but only if the weaker one accepted the bond.

I hadn't accepted anything.

Neither had Cade.

So who had chosen for us?

The sword whispered again.

This time, it said both our names.

"Lena Vale. Cade Rourke. Bound."

The red line flashed.

Cade stepped in front of me before the wardens could react. One hand stayed locked around my wrist. His other went to his blade.

"Back away," he ordered.

The wardens raised their weapons.

Evelyn's voice cracked across the square.

"You're protecting a condemned traitor."

"I'm containing the situation."

"You're under my command."

"Not anymore."

A murmur tore through the crowd.

I stared at the back of his coat.

"That was brave," I said.

"Don't sound impressed."

"I'm not. I'm shocked you finally grew a spine."

"You're going to ruin this plan."

"We have a plan?"

"You wanted me to fake your death."

"I wanted you to stop killing me. That's not the same thing."

He turned his head just enough for me to see his profile.

"When the blade touches you, fall."

"That's your plan?"

"I'll cut the chain and tell them the sword took your spirit."

"They'll check."

"Not if I make it look real."

"You're not exactly gifted at making me look alive."

His mouth tightened.

"You want out or not?"

The question hit the part of me that had been screaming since the first reset.

I wanted out.

I wanted the city gates open. I wanted the Institute burning. I wanted Evelyn Shaw to understand she hadn't won.

Most of all, I wanted one morning that didn't end with Cade's blade in my body.

"Do it," I said.

Cade studied me.

"If you betray me, the pact will punish you too."

"Good."

"If you run before I cut the chain, it'll drag you back."

"Then cut faster."

"If you break the spirit lock while I'm touching you, it may take both our souls."

"You're doing a terrible job selling this."

His fingers slid from my wrist into my palm.

From a distance, the gesture looked intimate. Up close, it felt like a threat. His hand was too warm. His grip was too firm. His thumb rested over my pulse as if he could count every lie I'd ever told.

"Last chance," he said.

"You say that every time."

"This time, I mean it."

"Then prove it."

The bell rang again.

The wardens pulled the black lantern open.

Green fire spilled across the stone.

Cade drew the execution blade.

The crowd began to chant.

"Guilty. Guilty. Guilty."

I locked my knees.

Cade moved behind me.

His chest pressed against my back. His arm came around my waist, holding me upright. The side of his face brushed mine.

His breath warmed my cheek.

"When I say fall," he whispered, "you fall."

"And if you miss?"

His grip tightened.

"I won't."

"You already have. Eight times."

For one beat, his blade hovered above my neck.

Then the cracked sword on the stand screamed my name, and the red pact between us pulled tight—