Chapter 13 · The Echo in the Dark

"Who the hell are you?"

Riven’s voice was a jagged blade. He had me pinned against the damp stone wall of the vault, his forearm crushing my collarbone. His eyes—those sharp, piercing eyes that usually read my every lie—were blank. Empty.

He looked at me like I was a stray dog at a crime scene.

I gasped, lungs burning from the vault's smog. "Riven, stop! It’s me. Mara!"

He didn't flinch. He just tightened his grip, fingers digging into my shoulder. "I don't know a Mara. How'd you get past the perimeter? Did the Council send you to clean up the mess?"

My heart hammered. This was the cost. The memory wipe hadn't just taken a few days; it had gutted him. The City’s chief spellbreaker, the man who could tear a contract apart with a glance, was looking at me like I was the enemy.

"Look at me," I choked out, shifting my weight. "The contract. Look at the mark on my palm!"

He glanced down at my hand, then back to my face. A flicker of confusion crossed his brow, but no recognition. "A courier. You're a thief.