"Give me the letter." Kael kept one hand around my wrist and the other braced beside my head. "Now."
"Take your hand off me."
"You tried to tear a man's throat out ten seconds ago. I'm not taking anything off you."
His grip tightened when I twisted. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind me he could.
That was the problem with Kael. He never needed to show off. He put one hand on me, and my body understood the threat before my pride did.
"You read it," I said.
"I read enough."
"Then stop pretending this is about protecting me."
His eyes dropped to the folded paper tucked inside my coat. The corner was already dark from the dead man's blood.
"It's not about protecting you." His voice went flat. "It's about keeping you alive long enough to find out what the Church wants."
"They want my eyes."
"They want the Saint Shards inside them."
"Same thing."
"Not to them."
I laughed, but it came out sharp and ugly. My back still hit the brick wall where he'd pinned me after dragging me away from the informant. My pulse hadn't settled. His body was close enough that I could feel heat through his coat, and the scent of metal, smoke, and clean soap clung to him.
It made me want to shove him away.
It also made it harder to think.
"Let go," I said.
"Tell me what you're going to do with the letter."
"Burn it."
"Why?"
"Because I don't collect souvenirs from men who want to carve me open."
His jaw flexed. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
Kael leaned closer. His breath brushed my cheek, warm and annoyingly steady. "You want it gone because it proves you're scared."
My knee drove toward his thigh.
He caught it before it landed and trapped my leg against his. The movement shoved his hips against mine for one hard second. His eyes flashed. Mine did too.
"Try that again," he murmured, "and I'll tie both ankles to the radiator."
"You'd have to get me home first."
"I will."
"Confident."
"Experienced."
"Arrogant."
"Still alive."
The corner of his mouth almost moved. Almost. Then his hand slid from my wrist to the inside of my palm, checking the black mark burned into my skin.
The pact sigil.
It pulsed once beneath his fingers.
Kael's expression changed. Not fear. Worse. Recognition.
"It reacted when you attacked him," he said.
"It reacts when you touch me."
His thumb stopped over the center of the mark.
A small silence opened between us.
I felt his pulse under his glove where his wrist brushed mine. He felt mine too. His gaze lifted to my face, lingering for half a second too long.
Then he stepped back.
The loss of heat made me angry enough to breathe again.
"We're leaving," he said.
"I'm not going anywhere until that letter is ash."
"You don't get to make demands."
"Funny. I used to hear that from people right before they begged."
"You used to have an army."
"I still have teeth."
"And a curse that wants to use them."
That hit closer than it should have.
His hand went to the knife at his belt, not drawing it. Just resting there. A warning for both of us.
I pulled the letter from my coat and held it between two fingers. The paper looked harmless. Thin. Cheap. A few lines of ink had turned my future into a price tag.
"You want this," I said. "Why?"
"Information."
"You already know what's in it."
"I know what it says. I don't know why August signed it himself."
The name scraped across my nerves.
Archbishop August. The man who had smiled beside me while the Council stripped my power. The man who had called me a danger, then sent hunters after every piece of me they could sell.
I brought the letter toward the broken lantern on the floor.
Kael moved faster.
His fingers closed around mine before the paper touched the flame.
"Don't."
"Move."
"No."
"You can't keep me from burning one piece of paper."
"I can if that piece of paper is the only lead we've got."
"It's not a lead. It's a receipt."
His eyes hardened. "For what?"
"My execution."
For once, he didn't answer right away.
I turned my wrist, trying to break his hold. He caught both my hands and pushed them above my head against the wall. His chest nearly touched mine. The brick pressed cold through my coat. His glove scraped against my knuckles.
"Let me go," I said.
"Stop reaching for the fire."
"You think I need permission?"
"I think you need to stop making choices while you're half out of your mind."
"You don't know anything about my mind."
"I know what it looked like when you smiled at that man."
My fingers went still.
Kael's voice dropped. "You didn't want information. You wanted him to hurt."
"He deserved it."
"Maybe."
"Don't sound surprised."
"I'm not surprised. I'm warning you."
"You don't warn monsters. You kill them."
"I've killed plenty."
"Then why am I still breathing?"
His gaze fell to my mouth before snapping back to my eyes.
"Because you're useful."
The answer should have been easy to believe. It was clean. Practical. Exactly the kind of thing a hunter like him would say.
It still landed wrong.
"Useful how?" I asked.
"You can get us into places I can't."
"That's all?"
"Right now? Yes."
"Liar."
His grip shifted. One hand stayed around my wrists while the other came up beside my face. He didn't touch my cheek. His fingers stopped just short, close enough for me to feel the heat from his skin.
"Careful, Sera."
"Or what?"
"Or I stop being patient."
"You were never patient. You were just curious."
A muscle jumped near his temple.
My smile showed too many teeth. "There. That look. You want to know if I can still command the curse. You want to see what happens when I lose control."
"I want to know how to stop it."
"For the payout?"
His eyes went cold.
That was answer enough.
A brass token buzzed in his coat pocket.
Kael released me so quickly I nearly stumbled forward. He caught my elbow, steadied me, then shoved me behind him as he pulled the token free.
The disk glowed blue in his palm.
A woman's voice crackled through it. "Report."
Kael looked at me.
I could read the question in his face.
Was I going to run?
Was I going to attack?
Was I going to make him regret dragging me out of the alley?
I leaned against the wall and smiled. "Go on. Tell your handler you found her."
"Shut up."
"Tell her the former Saint is alive and standing right here. I'm sure she'll send a bigger knife."
The token hissed. "Kael. Report."
He turned away from me. "The target is dead."
I blinked.
The lie came out smooth. No pause. No crack.
"Confirm the body," the handler said.
"Burned in a curse flare. Nothing left to identify."
I stared at the back of his head.
He was lying for me.
No. He was lying because he wanted the letter. Because he wanted the Saint Shards. Because he wanted the bounty that came with delivering me alive.
The excuse tasted better than the truth.
"Did you recover the eyes?" the handler asked.
Kael's fingers closed around the token. "The curse destroyed them."
The blue light flickered.
"The Archbishop will not be pleased."
"He can complain to the ashes."
"You sound defensive."
"You sound stupid."
I almost laughed.
The handler went silent for a beat. "Return to the safehouse. I want a full account before dawn. If the girl escaped, you will be charged with obstruction."
"She didn't escape."
"Then why are you still transmitting?"
Kael's eyes cut toward me.
I mouthed, Because you miss me?
His stare could have cut glass.
"The flare damaged the token," he said. "I'm heading back now."
"Kael—"
He crushed the disk in his fist.
The blue light died.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then I said, "You lied to your handler."
"I heard you the first time."
"That puts you in danger."
"You noticed."
"Why?"
He shoved the broken token into his pocket. "Don't make it important."
"You just told the Church I was ash."
"I told them what they needed to hear."
"You told them you failed."
"I fail all the time. People expect it from me."
"No, they don't."
He looked at me then. The sharpness in his face had worn thin, showing something rough underneath. Regret, maybe. Anger. He hated the lie. I could see that much.
And he hated that he had told it for me.
I stepped closer. "How much is my life worth?"
"Don't."
"Come on. You sold me once already. Tell me the number."
"I didn't sell you."
"You dragged me out of a cage, chained me to a pact, and marched me into the slums because someone offered you a reward. What would you call it?"
"A job."
"A job with my eyes as payment."
"I said I wouldn't hand you over."
"You said you needed me alive. That's not the same thing."
His shoulders went rigid.
I moved around him, grabbed the letter, and shoved it into the lantern flame.
Fire climbed the edge.
Kael swore and caught my hand again. He pulled me away from the lantern, but the paper was already burning. I released it. The blackened scrap fell onto the stone floor.
"What the hell did you do?" he snapped.
"I improved your evidence."
He stamped on the flame.
The paper curled. Ink bled into smoke. One line survived longer than the rest.
EYES INTACT. EXTRACT BEFORE—
The last word vanished under his boot.
Kael stared down at the ash.
"Happy?" I asked.
"Not even close."
"Then stop looking at me like you want to put me in a box."
"I want to put you somewhere the curse can't reach anyone else."
"Your apartment?"
"It's warded."
"It's one room."
"Two."
"One room and a closet with a door."
"You can sleep in the closet."
"Try it, and I'll set your boots on fire."
His mouth twitched again. This time I saw it.
The sight hit me harder than it had any right to.
He stepped close enough to take the burned scrap from the floor. His shoulder brushed mine. Heat slipped through the thin fabric at my arm, and my fingers curled before I could stop them.
Kael noticed.
Of course he did.
"You don't have to look so pleased," I said.
"I'm not pleased."
"Your face disagrees."
"Your face is usually wrong."
"Careful. You might start sounding fond."
His gaze dropped to my lips again.
The room seemed to shrink around us. My back met the wall. His hand came up, palm flat beside my head. Not touching me. Not quite.
"You're enjoying this," he said.
"Enjoying what?"
"Making me regret every decent decision I've made tonight."
"You've made one decent decision in your life?"
"Two."
"Name them."
"I didn't kill you."
"And the second?"
His eyes held mine. "I haven't decided yet."
My breath caught. I hated him for hearing it.
A low vibration rolled through the mark on my palm.
Kael felt it too. His expression snapped shut. He seized my hand and turned it toward the lantern light.
The sigil had changed.
A thin red line split the black symbol. Blood welled from beneath the skin and ran toward my wrist.
"What did you do?" he demanded.
"Nothing."
"Don't lie to me."
"I burned a letter. That's all."
The red line spread across the mark.
A whisper slid through the room.
Not from the hall. Not from the walls.
From inside my hand.
Kael drew his knife.
"Sera?"
The whisper came again, soft and broken.
A name I had buried beneath a crown, a city, and years of blood.
A name no living person should know.
Kael's fingers locked around my wrist. His face went pale as the sigil opened like a wet mouth and breathed, "Seraphine Vale."
He stared at me. "Who the hell is Seraphine Vale?"