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"Don't you fucking move." Silas's hand locked around my throat and slammed me back against the service door.
The metal rang. My boots slipped on wet concrete. Sirens were already screaming over the Neon District, that city-wide wail that means lockdown.
"They're sweeping," he said, his voice right against my ear. Cold. Calm. Like he wasn't choking me. "Knox Enforcers. Three blocks out. You run now, they tag you. You die tired."
"Get off me," I choked out. His forearm didn't budge. His other hand was flat on the door beside my head, caging me in. Heat rolled off him anyway. That weird, wrong heat. Not human.
"You think this is a negotiation?" he said. "You signed. You owe."
The black mark on my wrist was burning. Like actually burning. I could see the veins going dark under my skin, crawling up toward my elbow.
"Yeah, I get it, I'm on a clock," I snapped. "You don't have to brand me every five minutes."
"You do. Because you forget." He leaned in closer. His eyes were that impossible void-black, no white left. "You have forty-seven minutes to bring me a breaker. Or I collect."
A searchlight swept the alley. I flinched. Silas didn't even blink. He just pressed harder, his chest against mine, until I could feel his pulse. Or whatever that was. Too slow. Too steady.
"We can't stay here," I hissed. "They'll scan this door."
"So we don't stay by the door." He yanked me sideways and kicked open the maintenance hatch. It was a closet. Maybe three feet by three feet. Mops, chemical stink, one flickering bulb. He shoved me in first and followed.
Forced proximity doesn't cover it. His knee was between my legs. My back hit the shelves. His hand was still on my throat, thumb on my pulse.
"Personal space, asshole," I said.
"You lost that when you sold your soul for a rigged deck," he said. "Breathe quiet."
Outside, boots thundered past. Drones buzzed. Some Enforcer with a loudspeaker barked, "All unregistered Void signatures, stay where you are. Scan in progress."
My mark pulsed. Hot, then cold. Silas looked down at it and smiled. Not a nice smile.
"It's hungry," he said.
"It's yours. Control it."
"No. It's yours. You feed it." He finally let go of my throat and grabbed my wrist instead. Turned my palm up. The skin was almost black to the elbow now. "You want to track your prey? You pay the toll. Again."
He pulled a card from his coat. Not a playing card. A contract card. Blank, except for my name bleeding across it in red.
"I already signed," I said.
"Sign again. Every hunt needs a fresh seal. Or the District's wards will fry you before you get close."
"And if I don't?"
He pressed the card against my burning mark. The pain shot up my arm like a wire. "Then I take your heart right here in this closet and tell Knox you resisted. Your choice, Dealer."
I stared at him. He stared back. No blinking. That heat coming off him made the tiny room sweat.
"You're a real charmer, you know that?" I said.
"Sign."
I slammed my thumb down on the card. It seared. Black ink shot up from the card into my veins and the whole thing dissolved into my skin. The mark stopped burning and went ice-cold.
For a second I could see it. A thread. Thin, red-black, pulling me northeast. Toward the neon.
"There," Silas whispered, his mouth too close to my ear. "Feel him? Nineteen. Scared. Thief. He stole a low-grade Void card to pay his sister's med bills. He's hiding in the arcade on 9th."
"You knew the whole time."
"Of course I knew. I wanted to see if you'd run." He finally stepped back, just an inch. Enough that I could breathe without tasting him. "Go do your job, Kane. Bring me the card. Bring me the soul attached to it."
The lockdown siren cut off. The boots moved on. Silas popped the hatch and dragged me out like I weighed nothing.
The Neon District at night is a lie. All that pink and blue light, all that music, and underneath it smells like fried oil and piss and ozone. We moved fast, heads down, following the thread only I could see.
"Stay behind me," Silas said.
"You stay behind me. You're the one that glows in the dark."
He actually laughed. Short, sharp. "Cute."
The arcade on 9th was half-shuttered for the sweep. Inside, one kid huddled behind the claw machines. Hoodie too big, hands shaking, a cheap Void card flickering in his palm like a bad lightbulb. He couldn't have been more than nineteen. Maybe less.
He saw us and scrambled back.
"Don't! Don't come closer!" he shouted. His voice cracked. "I didn't steal nothing! I found it!"
"Kid," I said, hands up. "Hey. Hey, just breathe. I'm not Enforcers."
Silas stayed in the doorway, arms crossed, blocking the exit. Letting me do it. Watching.
"You are," the kid said, staring at my wrist. The black veins were showing. He knew what I was. "You're a Dealer. You're here to take it. Please. My sister - she's in the clinic on 4th. They said they need ten grand or they cut her off. This card was just lying there, I swear -"
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Milo. Milo, please. I'll give it back. Just don't - don't kill me."
My throat went tight. He looked like my little brother did, before my brother OD'd in that same clinic.
"Kane," Silas said from behind me. Soft. A warning. "The clock."
"I know the clock," I snapped without looking back.
I crouched down so I was eye level with Milo. The card in his hand was buzzing, feeding on his fear. Low-grade, cracked at the corner. It was already eating him.
"Milo, listen to me," I said. "That card is killing you. You feel it, right? The cold? The headaches? You can't keep it."
"I don't care!" He clutched it tighter. Tears running. "If I give it to you, she dies!"
"If you keep it, you both die. That's how it works."
"Then help me!" He grabbed my sleeve. His fingers were freezing. "You're a Dealer, you can fix it, right? You can -"
"I can't fix anything," I said. My voice broke. "I can't even fix myself."
Silas moved. One step. The air in the arcade dropped ten degrees.
"Kane. Take it. Now. Or I take you both."
"I'm handling it!"
"No, you're stalling. Because you think he's you." Silas's hand landed on my shoulder. Hard. Possessive. His heat burned through my jacket. "He's not. Do it."
Milo stared at Silas and went white. "No - no, please -"
I made a choice. Or the mark made it for me. I grabbed Milo's wrist.
"Sorry, kid," I whispered.
And I ripped.
Not the card. The thread underneath. I dug my nails into the light coming off his palm and pulled. Milo screamed. It wasn't a human sound. The card came with it, but so did something else - a hot, bright snap, like a rubber band breaking inside my hand. His soul. I felt it pop against my palm, slick and shuddering.
Milo collapsed. Not dead. Empty. Eyes open, breathing, but nothing behind them. The card in my hand was suddenly solid, heavy, pulsing like a heart.
"What did I -" My hand was shaking so hard I almost dropped it. "What did I just do?"
"You collected," Silas said. He sounded satisfied. He plucked the card from my fingers. His touch was ice. "You did well for your first time. Most puke."
Milo was still on the floor, staring at nothing. Alive, but hollowed out.
"Fix him," I said. "Put it back."
"Can't. Contract's done." Silas slipped the card into his coat. Then the card twitched. And spat something out.
Not blood. Light. A projection, flickering in the air between us. A file. Text and a map. Knox City, 3D grid, and deep underneath, past the sewers, past the foundations, a massive, pulsing red shape.
Labeled: VOID HEART - CORE ENTITY - STATUS: BEATING - LOCATION: KNOX SUBLEVEL 0
"What the hell is that?" I breathed.
Silas went completely still. His void-black eyes fixed on the beating shape. For the first time, he looked surprised. Then hungry.
He turned that look on me. Slow. His hand came up and cupped my jaw, thumb pressing hard against my cheekbone. Too close. Too hot. I could feel his breath.
"Dealer," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous and almost excited, "did you just find me a god? Now tell me - are you going to help me cut it out, or do I have to carve it out of you first when you -"