Chapter 42 · The Execution Pen

"Get your hands off that console, Ivy, or the ward will strip your skin from the bone."

Carson's leather glove crashed over my bare knuckles.

I jerked back. "Don't touch me."

The brass housing hummed beneath my palm, hot as an open furnace. Blue sparks snapped across my skin and curled around the faint golden mark burned into my hand.

Five minutes ago, Carson had found the second crown mark on his palm.

Five minutes ago, the last hope of saving Noah had become a death sentence.

"You saw the mark," I said. "You know what it means. If I don't pull Noah's transfer logs now, the council executes him by dawn."

"I know exactly what it means." Carson leaned over me, his chest pressing against my shoulder as he pinned me against the terminal. His breath brushed my cheek, sharp with salt and bitter mint. "It means you're trespassing in the High Vault. It means that sensor goes red, and forty automated crossbows put bolts through your spine before I can draw my sidearm."

"Then draw it, Chief Rook."