Chapter 5 · The Real Voss Heir

"You're telling me the man arresting me designed the cage?"

Lucas slammed his shoulder into the third cabinet.

Metal screamed. The cabinet lurched aside, revealing a narrow service gap.

"I told you I'm not saving you."

"You keep saying that like repetition makes it true."

"Get in."

He shoved me through first. My injured leg buckled the second my boot hit the gap.

Lucas caught me around the waist.

Heat burned through my shirt beneath his fingers. His chest pressed against my back for one sharp second before he forced me deeper into the dark.

"I'm fine," I hissed.

"You can barely stand."

"Still standing."

"For now."

He slipped in after me and dragged the cabinet back into place.

Footsteps pounded toward the evidence-room door.

Someone shouted, "Warden Vale! Open up!"

Lucas raised one finger to his lips.

I could barely see his face in the cramped darkness. His shoulder brushed mine. His breath moved over my temple, warm and steady, like hiding in a space built for one person didn't bother him at all.

Another voice rang out.

"The witness is compromised! Command authorizes termination!"

Lucas's hand found the small of my back.

He held me still.

It should've felt like protection.

It felt like a warning.

I leaned close to his ear. My lips nearly touched the skin beneath it.

"If you hand me over, the contract kills me."

"I know."

"If they kill me, the chip locks forever."

"I know that too."

"Then tell me the truth." I kept my voice low. "Are you taking me to the archive, or waiting for a cleaner way to put a bullet in me?"

His mouth brushed my hair when he answered.

"If I wanted you dead, Evelyn, you wouldn't have made it off the platform."

My pulse kicked hard.

I hated that his voice could do that to me.

I hated even more that his hand stayed on my back after the footsteps stopped outside.

The evidence-room door buckled.

Lucas pulled a thin access key from inside his sleeve and dropped to one knee. He slid it into a hidden slot beneath the archive floor.

A lock clicked.

A panel opened under our boots.

"Down," he whispered.

"That's your whole plan?"

"You got a better one?"

"Yes. Stop making terrible plans."

"Keep talking and I'll carry you."

"Try it and I bite."

His eyes caught mine in the dim red light.

"I believe you."

The panel dropped open.

Lucas went first, then reached up for me.

I placed my hand in his.

His fingers closed around mine, firm and warm. He pulled me through the opening, and my knee struck his chest. His arm locked around my waist before I could land on top of him.

For one breath, we were tangled beneath the floor.

His face was inches from mine. I felt every breath he took against my mouth. His grip tightened just enough to keep me steady, his thumb burning through the thin fabric at my side.

Then he let go.

Too fast.

I hated that too.

The chamber beneath the archive was narrow and windowless. Dead files filled the walls—paper records, blood-seal boxes, names the tower had erased from every public register.

Lucas crossed to the central terminal.

"Give me the chip."

I kept it tucked against my ribs.

"Say please."

"No."

"Then no chip."

He turned on me.

"You don't understand what you're holding."

"I understand perfectly. It's the only thing keeping me alive."

"It's also the only thing that can tell me if Mara's alive."

The last word cracked in his throat.

Just a little.

Enough to split the steel in his voice and show me the man underneath.

I hated that most of all.

"You care about her," I said.

His jaw tightened. "Give me the chip."

"That's not an answer."

"Evelyn."

"You drag me through a prison, threaten to carry me, then look at me like I'm the only person who can save her." I took one step closer. "Pick a story and stick to it."

His eyes dropped to my mouth.

The chamber shrank around us. His body heat reached me across the few feet between us. My breath caught, and his gaze stayed there long enough to make the silence hurt.

"Don't make this personal," he said.

"You put your hands on me first."

His eyes snapped back to mine.

I pulled out the chip and placed it in his open hand.

"If you betray me, I'll make sure the whole city hears everything on it."

"You don't have access to the broadcast tower."

"Nora Quinn does."

Lucas's head jerked up.

"You know Nora?"

"She hid me when the tower declared me dead."

His expression changed. Not fear. Recognition cutting through the anger.

"Who are you?"

"Unlock the chip."

He turned to the terminal and pressed his clearance ring against the reader.

The machine flashed red.

ACCESS REVOKED.

"Command revoked my access," he said.

"You're the senior warden."

"Not anymore."

He entered a manual code.

The terminal sparked.

Above us, the search team shouted again. Metal groaned against metal.

"Faster," I said.

"You wanna try?"

"Move."

I shoved in beside him. Our shoulders knocked. Warmth slid along my arm, and his sleeve scraped against mine.

I reached for the controls.

Lucas caught my hand.

"Don't. The archive is booby-trapped."

"You built this place too?"

"I built the locks. Not the lies inside them."

He guided my fingers to the lower panel. His hand covered mine as he entered the final sequence.

His thumb pressed against my knuckles.

Neither of us moved.

The chip clicked.

A red recording light came on.

Lucas stopped breathing.

Mara's face filled the terminal screen, closer than before. Blood streaked the side of her neck. Her eyes kept darting toward something off-camera.

"Lucas, if you're seeing this, don't trust the command seal. They found the witness. They found—"

The recording broke into static.

"No." Lucas struck the side of the terminal. "Come on. Don't do this now."

The image snapped back.

Mara looked straight into the lens.

"If you found Evelyn, you found the real Voss heir we declared dead."

The archive lights exploded white.

Every alarm in the tower screamed at once.

Lucas stared at me. The chip kept playing, but the rest of Mara's message vanished beneath the sirens.

His hand lifted.

Slowly. Shaking.

His fingers stopped just short of my cheek.

"You're Evelyn Voss—the girl they—"