Chapter 31 · When I move, duck

The pistol moved from Elias's chest to my head.

Elias's arm tightened. His mouth came close to my ear. "When I move, duck."

"Don't move."

"That's not a request."

"You don't own me."

"No. But I know how to keep you alive."

My father stared at us through the narrow opening. "He always talks like that?"

"Only when he's lying," I said.

"I'm not lying."

"See? Terrible at it."

For half a second, my father looked almost like himself. The corner of his mouth twitched.

Then the gate screamed.

A black strand shot through the opening and wrapped around my wrist. Another struck Elias in the chest. He jerked, and our shared pain exploded through me.

I saw teeth.

Not the memory-hounds. Not this time.

A boy stood in a service tunnel, maybe twelve years old, with blood running down his cheek. Finn was beside him, younger, smaller, clutching a cracked grid key in both hands.

Across from them, a wall of black magic crawled closer.

"You said it would open," Finn whispered.

The boy beside him grabbed his hand. Dark hair. Gray eyes. A thin silver scar at the throat.

Elias.

"It will," young Elias said.