"Evelyn. Don't."
I reached for the door anyway.
Kane caught my elbow before my fingers touched the iron. His grip was hard enough to stop me, not hard enough to leave a mark.
Not yet.
"Let go."
My name sounded different in his mouth. Kane didn't do soft. But that warning had slipped beneath the command, and my pulse kicked at the sound of it.
"The door responds to blood," he said.
"Then it's lucky I have plenty."
"Your family seal was removed from every active engine after the Hart Bureau lost its license."
I turned on him. "You know about my family?"
"I know why your bureau was shut down."
"Then say it."
His jaw tightened. "Your team failed a rescue. People died. Your father blamed you. Your partner signed the report. The council took the license."
My throat locked.
Kane's fingers loosened around my elbow, but he didn't let go.
"You don't get to use that against me."
"I'm not using it."
"You just recited the worst day of my life like you were reading a grocery list."
"I need to know what broke the rescue."
"So you can blame me too?"
"So I can find the person who made it fail."
The hallway went dead quiet.
I stared at him. "What did you say?"
His face gave me nothing. His hand stayed wrapped around my arm, warm and solid against my skin.
"You heard me."
"You think someone sabotaged the rescue?"
"I think disasters don't line up into perfect traps by accident."
"And you waited until after I signed my life away to mention you suspected an insider?"
"You wouldn't have signed if you knew."
"Maybe I would've signed faster."
"Liar."
I shoved his chest.
He barely moved. My palm hit warm cotton stretched over hard muscle. Then his hand snapped around my waist when I stumbled.
For one sharp second, my body pressed against his.
His breath brushed my cheek.
Mine caught.
"Take your hand off me," I whispered.
"Ask properly."
"Go to hell."
"That's not proper."
His thumb rested just above my hip. It didn't move.
It didn't need to.
Heat slipped through the thin fabric between us. His eyes dropped to my mouth, then came back up, slow enough to make the space between us feel dangerous.
"Kane."
The amusement vanished from his face.
He let me go.
I hated that my skin missed him before he even stepped back.
"You don't get to touch me because we're married on paper," I said.
"You touched me first."
"I pushed you."
"Exactly."
"You're impossible."
"And you're standing in front of a sealed disaster engine because your pride won't let you wait ten minutes."
"No. I'm standing here because you know something about my family, and you keep feeding me half-truths."
"Evelyn—"
"What else do you know?"
He didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
I turned and planted my bleeding hand against the iron.
Kane swore. "Don't—"
The door struck back.
Pain ripped through my palm and shot up my arm. My ring flashed black, then red. Under the iron, something huge slammed against the other side.
Once.
Twice.
The silver seal around the frame lit up.
Kane grabbed both my shoulders and hauled me backward, but the ring had already bitten deep. A thin line of blood opened across my palm.
"What did you do?" he snapped.
"I touched a door. You should try it sometime."
The pounding grew louder.
A grinding roar rolled through the walls. Dust shook loose from the ceiling. Somewhere inside the sealed wing, gears screamed awake.
Kane shoved me behind him.
"Stay back."
"You said the door responds to blood. It responded to mine."
"Evelyn, stay behind me."
"Move."
He looked over his shoulder. "No."
"I'm your wife. That contract gives me access."
"It gives you the right to enter. It doesn't give you the right to die."
"Then stop blocking me and help me figure out why your door knows my blood."
The iron split down the center.
Kane reached for me.
I caught his wrist first and yanked him aside with everything my arm had left.
"Evelyn!"
The door opened with a violent snap.
Beyond it sat a machine the size of a carriage, built from black copper, glass tubes, and metal ribs. Red light pulsed inside its core. Every pipe shook against the floor.
Then I saw the seal stamped across the casing.
My breath stopped.
The Hart Bureau crest.
My father's crest.
Kane stared at the machine. Then he looked at me.
"That engine shouldn't exist," I said.
"It shouldn't be here."
"Who brought it into your house?"
He stepped in front of me again. This time, his hand found mine.
His fingers closed around my bleeding palm, pressing the cut shut. Heat spread through my hand. His grip hurt, but he didn't let go.
Neither did I.
"Kane." I pulled against him. "Who brought it here?"
The machine slammed against its restraints.
Kane's eyes snapped toward the dark corridor behind us.
His thumb pressed harder into my palm.
"The traitor is already inside this house—"