"Where'd you get this list, Mara?" The muzzle didn't move. Cold steel, right on my forehead, pinning me to the rail.
"Does it matter?" I choked out. My hand was shaking so bad the seal kept glitching. "You're on it. Third name down. That's not a trial, Judge. That's your funeral."
"Lying's capital in this sector." His thumb clicked the safety off. Click. "I kill you now. Pull the truth out of your logs after."
The bridge hummed under my boots. Freezing wind cut straight through my jacket. And he was heat. All heat. Leather and ozone and gunpowder, his shadow swallowing me whole.
"Then pull the trigger!" I yelled in his face. "You'll be dead in ten minutes anyway! Check the timestamp! Your slot's already open! They don't need you to hunt me — they already replaced you!"
He didn't blink. Didn't flinch.
He leaned in. Closer. Till I could see the gray in his eyes and feel his breath hit my cheek.
"You think I'm stupid?" he said, voice low. "You're a courier. Low-tier. Route-breaker. You don't have clearance for a Tribunal black-list. So who gave it to you?"
"Nobody gave it to me!" I twisted, tried to get my hip free. His knee was jammed against my thigh, holding me to the railing. "I ripped it off your own seal! The one you were gonna use to sentence me!"
His eyes dropped to my fist. To the seal flickering red in my palm.
Silence. Just wind. Just sirens screaming three thousand feet below.
Then he moved.
He grabbed my wrist and twisted. Hard.
"Ah!" My shoulder slammed into the rail. "Let go!"
"Give it here," he snapped.
"Wait — look at the bridge!" I clawed at his coat, grabbed his lapel. "Dax, listen to me!"
He yanked the seal free. Stared at it. Jaw tight. Scrolling the names with his thumb.
"Fabrication," he muttered. "Glitch."
"It's not a glitch!" I lunged, fists in his coat. "That core charge they said I stole? It's not missing. It's rigged! This whole bridge is a fuse! Three minutes and we're a crater!"
"Nice try." His hand was still locked around my wrist. His thumb brushed the inside of my arm. Just once. Accident. But it shot straight up my spine.
"I'm not trying to trick you, you asshole!" My voice cracked. "You think I'd stick around to chat with my executioner if I had a choice? Feel the deck! Feel it!"
He frowned. Shifted his weight.
The bridge groaned.
Not wind. Deeper. A low, ugly shudder through the soles of our boots. Metal humming like a struck wire.
His eyes narrowed.
"Damn it," he hissed.
He didn't let go. He yanked me toward the hatch, dragging me with him. One hand crushing my wrist, the other fisting my collar.
"If this is a trick, I'll make your death slow," he said against my ear. His breath was hot. Too close.
"Great! Put it on my calendar!" I stumbled after him, shaking. "Asshole!"
We hit the emergency lever together. Hands overlapping. His heat bleeding into my frozen fingers.
Then the center of the bridge flashed.
Crimson. Blinding.
The shockwave hit like a truck.
It threw us flat. Air punched out of my lungs. Metal screamed. The world tilted and spun.
I hit the deck hard, rolled, caught the edge. My ears rang.
When I opened my eyes, half the bridge was gone. Just gone. White-hot plasma where steel used to be.
We were hanging on a jagged slab, wind howling through the gap, nothing but fog and a three-thousand-foot drop below.
Dax was already on one knee. One hand locked on a beam. The other — his badge.
The silver Tribunal crest on his wrist was pulsing. Purple. Fast. Angry.
"What is that?" I coughed, dust in my throat. "What'd they do?"
"Sync lock," he said, tight. "They tethered us."
"What does that mean? English!"
He looked at me. Really looked. And for the first time, he looked pissed.
"It means if my heart stops, yours stops," he said. "You die, I get dragged with you. Ghost-code. We're chained."
"You're joking."
"Do I look like I'm joking, Mara?" He grabbed my collar and hauled me up in one pull. Chest to chest. I could feel his heart hammering against mine. "You're not my prisoner anymore. You're my life insurance. That means you don't leave my sight. Not for one second. You get that?"
"I'm chained to the guy who just had a gun to my head?" My breath hitched. "You've gotta be kidding me!"
"Yeah? Well, get used to it." His grip slid — waist, shoulder, wrist — yanking me close every time I slipped. Not gentle. Possessive. Like he owned the space I was in. "Move. Now. Before the rest of this thing drops us."
We climbed. Metal groaning under us. Every time my foot slipped, his hand was there. Hard. Hot through my jacket. Pulling me in, holding me there a beat too long.
Eye contact. Breath. Too close. I hated how aware I was of it.
We hit a stable ledge and he shoved me against the wall, chest heaving. He checked the badge again.
The purple was gone.
Now it was red. Steady. Bleeding.
New text scrolled across it. Cold Tribunal font.
His face went white.
"What?" I stepped in. "What'd they change?"
He didn't answer. Just stared at the light painting his jaw red.
"Dax! What?"
He finally looked at me. And the Judge was back. Cold. Lethal.
"Timer," he said quietly. He reached for his holster. Leather creak. Metal snap as the gun cleared. "Final directive just dropped."
My back hit the wall. "What directive?"
The badge pulsed faster. Counting down.
"Sixty seconds," he said, gun coming up between us. His eyes never left mine. "Kill the target, or we both flatline. So who's it gonna be, Mara — you or me?"