His hand clamps around mine, tight as iron, and in one brutal motion, he wrenches both arms behind me. My burned arm screams, nerves light up, raw and electric, as his grip grinds over scorched skin. But I barely have time to blink before he turns me.
The world tilts and my chest slams into cold, damp stone. The impact knocks the air from my lungs. I bite down on the sound that wants out as his body follows behind, all heat and pressure, chest flush to my back, pinning me against the wall.
Then his fingers move fast, prying the blade from my grip with barely any effort and then something sharp, cold, slides in below my ribs.
“While that blade might be too blunt,” he murmurs, warm breath brushing my skin as he leans in close. “The one I’ve got pressed against your side right now definitely isn’t.”
I try to move but his chest is still solid against my back, all heat and restraint, and I hate how aware of it I am. Every inch of him. Every place we touch.
Rage, magic,or something else, starts building low.
“So what is this then?” I hiss, writhing against him, shoulders twisting as I try to break free. “You finally decided I’m worth killing yourself? Revenge for a brother I didn’t even know existed. Or did you just need an excuse to take down another Outerlander? You don’t Reassign enough already or kill them with your Spice tax?”
He presses the sharp blade in a fraction deeper, not enough to bleed, but enough to make a point.
“While youknowthe thought of getting my hands on you has definitely crossed my mind...”He murmurs, so close I can almost feel his lips on the shell of my ear. “...I’m not really in the mood.” A pause, “Not tonight anyway.”
Then, in one smooth motion, he releases my arms and spins me. My back slams into the wall, hard, as his fingers catch my wrists again, pinning them at my sides as his eyes find mine, gleaming like a predator in torchlight.
“Unless, of course,” he adds, the corner of his mouth curling, “you’ve changed your mind about finding outexactlywhat these hands are good at?”
God, I could scream. Not from fear, but from rage. He has me cornered, unarmed, and still has the audacity toflirt?
My Threads twitch, heat rising up my spine. I pray he doesn’t notice, doesn’t see how close I am to losing it. I’m not sure howmuch is there, but maybe it’s enough for something. One quick surge and I might be able to surprise him. Push him off. Make a break for it.
“I’ve seen what you can do with your own hands,” he teases, noticing the twitch at my fingers. “And while I must say it’s impressive… We both know you don’t have the control to take me out without blowing yourself up in the process.”
Anger, magic, and shame surge together in one wild, chaotic snarl just beneath my skin. I want to lash out, prove him wrong, but fuck—he’s right.
I know it.Heknows I know it.
His gaze lingers as he moves in an inch, that same unnerving, calculating focus slides back into place, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to see something just out of reach.
Then, without warning, he shifts, quick and fluid, the weight of him vanishes and cold rushes in to fill the space he leaves behind.
My chest expands as I drag in a deep breath, the gasp echoes down the passage. The sudden sound snaps something loose and my body wavers, just slightly, knees dipping before I catch myself.Only now without his body pinning me up I realise how shaky, weak, they are. My Threads too.
But I force myself to stand tall, legs locked, steadying myself as he crosses to the opposite wall and leans back, eyes never leaving mine.
“I have to admit,” he says, one foot braced against the wall as he taps his chin with the blunt blade. “Tonight’s been... unexpectedly informative. And maybe you just caught me in a generous mood. But I’ve decidednotto kill you.” His voice drops, one brow lifts. “As long as you keep this little rendezvous to yourself... Don’t tell anyone you saw me here tonight... And I won’t tell anyone about what you were up to.”
He holds the blade against his chin for a beat longer, then, with a quick flick of his wrist, slides it into the sheath hitched at his waist.
He's not offering me a deal; he’s toying with me. Not to scare me. Not even to win, but just because he can. Because he finds itfun. Like a cat with a mouse it fully intends to kill, just not before breaking it apart first. Piece by piece.
“Why?” I spit, not buying his bullshit. “Why offer me a deal at all? Why not just kill me now, or hand me over to Merrin for Reassignment? That’s what you do, isn’t it? Obey, serve, and pretend like you’re not the one driving the knife in. You’re just a cold, soulless Citadel officer, trained to follow orders and not feel a damn thing.”
For a second, he stills. That ever-present smirk slips, just slightly, but then he shifts, pushing off the wall taking a step towards me.
“Careful with your choice of words, Bloom;you’re more like me than you’d ever want to admit. I knowyou. I know what'sinsideof you... And as for why?” He lets the silence stretch, then shrugs. “Maybe I’m not as soulless as you think.” A pause. “Or then again maybe you just got lucky. Either way, don’t mistake it for mercy.”
Cold hits my back as I stiffen, pressing back against the wall, trying to put space between us—but he just steps in closer, like he’s drawn to the recoil.
Fuck him, I’m nothing likehim.
“And I’m just supposed to believe you won’t turn me in? You’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain. So why the hell would I trust you?”
“Well,” he scoffs, taking another step closer. “You don’t really have a choice, do you? Either you trust me or I show you exactly howskilledmy hands are. Right here. Right now.”
