Chapter 15 · A City of Different Lies

"Get your hands off me!"

I screamed, but the soldier didn't even blink. He had me pinned against the cold brick of the alley, his armored forearm crushing my windpipe. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't even scream again.

"Target identified," the soldier grunted into his comms. "I've got the Anchor. Requesting immediate extraction before the crowd turns."

I thrashed, kicking at his shins. Nothing. It was like hitting a wall of steel.

Then a blur of black and silver slammed into the soldier's side. A sickening *crack* of ribs echoed through the alley. The man flew backward, sliding across the wet pavement like a ragdoll.

Calder stood over him, chest heaving. His eyes were glowing with that dangerous, unstable light. He didn't even look at the soldier. He looked at me, scanning for injuries with a desperation that looked like pain.

"Are you hurt?" he snapped.

"I'm fine, you idiot!" I gasped, sliding down the wall to catch my breath. "Since when do you just tackle people?"

"Since the entire city thinks you murdered the High Priest and burned the archives," Calder said. He reached down and hauled me up. His grip was tight.