Chapter 9 · The Pulse That Opens Graves

"Let go—you're crushing me!"

I twisted, but Dax’s fingers were locked around my wrist like a vice. His skin wasn't just warm. It was burning. The execution mark on his palm was glowing, pulsing like a live wire buried under his skin.

"Mara." His voice was flat. Wrong. "Don't move."

"Yeah, no shit! I can't move because you're breaking my arm!"

I yanked back. He didn't budge. Instead, his grip tightened, and the tribunal lock between us flared. A spike of white-hot pain shot up my elbow.

He blinked. Slow. His eyes weren't focusing on me—they were looking *through* me.

"Dax?" I lowered my voice, trying to anchor him. "Hey. Look at me. Not the mark. Me."

Another surge ripped through him. His whole body jerked, and for a heartbeat, the veins in his forearm lit up a neon tribunal-blue. When the light faded, his face was blank. Empty.

"Order acknowledged," he said.

My stomach dropped. "What?"

"Order acknowledged. Target: Mara Venn. Execution pending."

He said it like he was reading a grocery list. His thumb was still pressed hard against my pulse, but the man I knew was gone. There was just a weapon standing there.

"Stop it.