"You have three minutes before Command wipes that chip and sends you downstairs." Lucas Vale held the execution-room door shut with one hand. In the other, he pressed a black restraint against my throat. "Tell me where you got it."
Cold metal dug into my skin. Swallowing hurt.
"Take your hand off me, and maybe I'll answer."
His eyes dropped to my mouth.
Half a second.
Then they snapped back to mine. "You don't get to negotiate."
"Funny. You sound nervous."
His fingers tightened.
The door shuddered behind him.
"Vale!" someone yelled from the other side. "Open this door!"
Lucas didn't look away from me. "Last chance."
"You said three minutes."
"Now it's two forty-seven."
"Then stop wasting it."
His jaw clenched. It was close enough to touch. Close enough for me to feel the heat coming off him through my thin shirt.
My body noticed.
I hated that.
I hated even more that he noticed me noticing.
"Where is it?" he asked.
"In my pocket."
"Which pocket?"
"You're the one holding me down. Search me."
The words hung between us.
His eyes traveled over my face, my throat, and the narrow space separating our bodies. He had the rank, the strength, and a locked room watched by Command cameras.
He also had a choice.
So did I.
Lucas leaned closer. His breath brushed my cheek. "Don't play games with me."
"Then don't ask stupid questions."
A fist slammed into the door.
"Vale! We know she's in there!"
My pulse kicked.
The restraint pressed harder against my throat. "You brought them here?"
"I was busy running for my life. I didn't send invitations."
"Who saw you?"
"The man who tried to put a bullet in my back. Your guards. Three drones. Maybe the whole damn building."
"You were shot?"
The question came too fast.
His eyes dropped to my side.
Blood had soaked through the seam of my jacket. Not much. Enough to make the fabric cling to my ribs.
"It's a scratch," I said.
"You're bleeding on my floor."
"I'll aim better next time."
The corner of his mouth moved.
Not a smile. Something sharper. It vanished before I could catch it.
"Give me the chip."
"No."
"You don't understand what you're carrying."
"I understand that Command wants it wiped. I understand they want me downstairs. And I understand you're the only reason that door is still closed."
His stare turned cold.
Good. I needed him angry. Angry men made mistakes.
"You think I'm protecting you?" he asked.
"Aren't you?"
"I'm protecting the room."
"Then why are you standing between me and the door?"
For one beat, neither of us moved.
The restraint stayed at my throat. His body stayed inches from mine. The room smelled of hot wiring, old blood, and bitter coffee abandoned beside the control panel.
His hand shifted.
Not away.
Lower.
The restraint slid from my throat to my collarbone. His knuckles brushed the bare skin beneath my jaw. The touch was careful. Almost gentle.
My breath caught.
His eyes darkened.
"Don't," I whispered.
"Don't what?"
"Look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you already know how this ends."
The door shook again.
"Vale! Command authorization! Open it now!"
Lucas kept his eyes on mine. "You think I know how this ends?"
"You always look like you do."
"That's because I usually do."
"Then tell me. Who's going downstairs tonight? Me or you?"
His expression stayed blank, but his grip changed.
Barely.
Enough.
I smiled without showing my teeth. "There it is."
"There what is?"
"The part you're scared to say out loud."
"I'm not scared of anything."
"Sure. And I'm the Queen of Command."
"You could be, if you keep talking like that."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's an observation."
"Then observe this."
I reached into my jacket.
Lucas slammed my wrist against the wall.
Pain shot up my arm.
"Slowly," he warned.
"Get off me."
"What are you reaching for?"
"The reason you're still asking questions."
His forearm pinned my upper chest to the metal wall. His heat soaked through my jacket. The restraint hooked against my collarbone, but the pressure had eased.
A mistake.
Or a choice.
I curled my fingers around the chip in my pocket.
"If you wanted me dead," I said, "you would've done it already."
"Don't test that theory."
"You had three chances in the corridor."
"I was deciding where to put the body."
"Liar."
His face lowered until his mouth hovered near my ear.
"You don't know me well enough to call me that."
"I know you blocked a kill team with your own clearance. I know you locked us in an execution room instead of handing me over. And I know Command is terrified of whatever's on this chip."
His breath warmed my skin.
"You know too much," he said.
"Then stop pretending you don't need me."
Silence.
One beat.
Two.
Outside, someone swiped a command card against the lock.
The red light flashed.
Lucas released my wrist.
I didn't move. Neither did he.
His thumb stayed against the inside of my pulse, feeling how fast I was beating. His eyes dropped to the spot beneath his hand.
"Give me the chip," he said, quieter now. "I can keep you alive."
"For how long?"
"Long enough."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
"No. You want the chip because it can destroy you. I want protection because Command already decided I'm disposable."
I pulled the chip free and held it between us.
"So here's my answer. You want this? Make me a deal."
His eyes locked on the black square in my palm.
"You don't have the power to bargain with me."
"Then open the door."
The command card scraped against the lock again.
"Vale! Final warning!"
Lucas looked at the door.
Then back at me.
His hand closed around my wrist and dragged me closer. My chest brushed his. His pulse beat steadily beneath the skin of his throat.
"You want a deal?" he asked.
"I want your protection."
"You want my name standing between you and Command."
"I want your men shooting anyone who comes for me."
"That kind of protection has a price."
"Name it."
His stare held mine. The locked door, the red warning light, and his hand around my wrist seemed to shrink the room down to nothing.
"You stay where I put you," he said. "You follow every order. You don't run. You don't lie."
"And what do I get?"
"You get to keep breathing."
"That's not protection. That's a leash."
"Call it whatever you want."
"No."
His grip tightened. "You don't have another option."
"I always have another option."
I lifted the chip between us.
"I can crush this."
For the first time, Lucas lost control of his face.
Not fear.
Recognition.
His hand shot out and caught mine before my fingers could close.
"Don't you dare."
The words came out rough. Personal.
I stared at him. "There you are."
The lock flashed green.
The door began to open.
Lucas cursed and shoved me behind him. His body blocked mine from the widening gap. One hand went to the weapon at his hip.
"Stay back," he ordered.
"You just said I had to follow every order."
"This one matters."
A black-uniformed officer appeared in the gap. "Vale, step away from the prisoner. Command wants her downstairs."
Lucas didn't move.
"She's not a prisoner," he said.
The officer looked past him at me. "Then what is she?"
Lucas's fingers closed around the chip in my hand. He pulled me against his back, hiding it from the camera mounted above the door.
"She's under my protection."
The officer laughed. "You don't have a protection order."
"I do now."
Lucas dragged the chip toward the reader built into the wall.
I caught his sleeve. "Wait. You don't know what's on it."
"I know enough."
"Lucas—"
The chip touched the reader.
The screen blinked once.
Then it filled with a red file header bearing my name.
Lucas went still.
Below it, one line appeared:
TARGET STATUS: TERMINATE.
His eyes moved to the second line.
"You didn't steal this from Command," he said. "You were the—"