Chapter 20 · Whispers from the Rift

"Mara, move!" Rhys hit her shoulder hard enough to spin her around. "Your left side is locking up."

Her fingers had already stopped working.

The silver knife slipped from her hand and vanished into the fog. Mara stared at her fingers. They were curled tight, stiff as wire, and no amount of command from her brain made them open.

"I noticed," she snapped.

Rhys caught her wrist before she stumbled into the cracked pavement. His palm was hot against her skin. Too hot. The bond between them pulsed once, then clamped down around her ribs.

Mara sucked in a breath. "Let go."

"If I let go, you fall."

"Then catch me without grabbing the arm I need to use."

"You have thirty-seven seconds before the link shuts down your lungs. Stop arguing."

That got her attention.

Behind them, something scraped across the concrete. A slow drag. Metal claws, maybe. Or bones. The sound came from the white fog filling the old transit tunnel, but the fog had no edges anymore. It crawled over the rails, up the walls, and around their boots in thick, moving ropes.

Mara pulled against Rhys's grip.