Chapter 11 · Skyline of Blood

"Hold the damn line, Vesper! If this cable snaps, we’re both just red smears on the pavement!"

Lucian’s voice was raw, barely audible over the screaming wind. He wasn't in his chair anymore. He was strapped into a makeshift harness, his new cybernetic spine humming with a violent, electric frequency that felt like needles sewing through his nerves.

Beside him, Vesper was white-knuckled, her boots skidding against the rusted steel of the cable. They were sliding—fast—down a series of frayed industrial lines that spanned the gap between the lower slums and the upper district. Behind them, the Inquisition’s warship roared, a massive slab of black iron that blotted out the moon.

"I'm holding!" Vesper yelled back, her voice strained. She yanked the lever on the braking mechanism, but it sparked and jammed. "The winch is fried! Lucian, we're going too fast!"

"Shift your weight!" he barked. "Now!"

He reached out, his fingers locking around her wrist. The contact was electric. Not just the cybernetics—there was a heat between them, a desperate, jagged tension. Vesper didn't pull away. She leaned into him, her shoulder pressing against his chest, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps that smelled of ozone and gunpowder.