Chapter 25 · The Passenger He Shouldn't Have Brought

Marcus hit the ground and tasted copper. His ribs screamed. The stone under his cheek was warm, almost fever-hot, and the sky overhead wasn't sky at all—just rust-red haze stretched between three moons that hung too close, too bright.

He rolled onto his back and saw Cassian twenty feet away, face-down, one arm bent wrong.

Still breathing.

Damn it.

Marcus pushed himself up. His coat was shredded along one side, the lining scorched black from where Cassian's chain had wrapped him during the jump. Blood ran warm down his forearm. He'd lost the small chisel somewhere between worlds. All he had left was the resonance shard—still tucked against his chest, still humming faint and low.

Cassian groaned and turned his head. His eyes found Marcus. No surprise there. Just cold, tired recognition.

"You dragged me through," Cassian said. His voice came out rough, barely more than a rasp. "You stupid bastard."

Marcus didn't answer. He scanned the landscape instead. They'd landed in some kind of plaza—flat stone slabs fitted so tight you couldn't slip a knife between them, all of it radiating heat like a griddle left on too long. No buildings. No trees.