Chapter 12 · The Anchor Wakes

"Put the blade down, Lena."

Cade had me pinned against the stone table, one hand locked around my wrist and the other braced beside my head. His forearm pressed across my shoulders. The glass blade hovered three inches from his throat.

"Move your arm," I said.

"You first."

"You’re the one holding me down."

"Because you’re trying to cut me open."

"I’m trying to stop the reset from eating half the city. There’s a difference."

His grip tightened.

Not enough to hurt. Enough to remind me he could.

That was Cade’s favorite trick. He didn’t need to shout. He took control of the exits, stood too close, and let the threat do the talking.

The spirit lock on the table pulsed red.

Once.

Twice.

The chamber shuddered. Dust spilled from the ceiling. Somewhere above us, people screamed as another street folded into the last reset.

Cade’s attention snapped toward the sealed door.

"How long?" he asked.

"Until the city snaps back?"

"Until this room tears apart."

"Nine minutes. Maybe less."

His eyes cut back to me. "And your plan is to carve out my anchor?"

"My plan was to ask nicely."

His mouth went tight.