Chapter 25 · Splintered Mask

"Don't move, or I'll let them put a bullet through your spine just to see if it makes a sound," Vesper hissed, her voice tight against my ear.

She had me hoisted up, my chest pressed hard against her back. I could feel the frantic drumming of her heart through the thin fabric of her tactical gear, the heat of her skin searing through my shirt. We were pinned behind a rusted shipping crate, and the air tasted like ozone and burnt rubber.

"I can't move, Vesper. Remember?" I whispered, leaning my head back. I let my voice go thin, fragile—the sound of a broken man.

"Shut up. Just... stay small," she snapped. She shifted her weight, her thighs bunching as she prepared to bolt.

Above us, on the catwalks of the Undercity refinery, the red dots of sniper scopes danced across the grime-streaked floor. Three of them. High-velocity rounds. If Vesper moved, we’d be shredded before she hit ten feet.

I looked up, my eyes narrowing. In the physical world, I was a useless weight in her arms. But in the Rift, the world was made of strings. Shimmering, obsidian threads that connected every living soul to the void.