Chapter 14 · The Lock He Built

"Don't touch it."

Rafe's hand freezes an inch from the altar. Jonah sounds like he's been screaming for hours—voice wrecked, hoarse. "It's reading her now. You interrupt the scan, it locks her in permanent."

Nia twists her wrist. The stone cuff doesn't budge. Her face is white but her jaw's set. "So what, I just stand here while she turns me into part of the furniture?"

"Working on it." Rafe steps back, forcing his brain past the panic clawing up his throat. Celia's still on the catwalk above them, arms crossed like she's watching a play she wrote. Two Bureau guards flank her, rifles angled down. The plaza's emptying fast—civilians scattering, wolves pulling back. Smart. Nobody wants to be close when this thing blows.

Jonah moves to the other side of the altar, hands shaking as he runs them over the carvings. "There's always a failsafe. She wouldn't build a lock without a way to control it."

"Yeah, and she's the one holding the key." Nia pulls again, harder. The stone hums but doesn't give. "Rafe. Tell me you've got a plan that doesn't involve asking nicely."

He does. Sort of. Bad plan.