Page 77 of Shadow Burn

The words slid through her like ice. She thought of Vance writing that coded line, pressing his pen hard enough into the page to leave marks in the paper, using language as a hiding place because every official channel had already been compromised. He’d known exactly what Cinder was. He’d known exactly who had authorized him. He’d tried, somehow, to leave a fuse buried in the archive for someone like Katherine to find.

Her hand tightened on the sleeve. “You’re not getting this.”

Cinder’s gaze settled on hers with a patience that felt worse than rage. “Yes, I am.” He reached through the gate.

She’d expected the movement and still barely moved fast enough. His gloved hand grabbed the edge of her bag, jerking her forward. Her forehead struck the bars, but Katherine twisted the bag against her chest.

Not before Cinder grabbed the sleeve. The paper slid partway out. For one awful second, the fragile edge bent beneath the pressure of both their grips.

“No,” she snapped.

His other hand shot through the bars and caught her wrist.

Pain exploded up her arm. She gasped as he wrenched her toward the gate. Metal slammed against her shoulder. The flashlight hit the bars hard enough to shoot pain through her injured palm.

Her bag hit the ground, but Katherine kept the archival sleeve pinned beneath her forearm. Cinder’s grip tightened until her wrist felt as if the bones were grinding out of alignment.

“Hand it over,” he ground out.

“You better run.” She flipped the switch on the side of the flashlight and drove it against his arm.

The charge cracked through the rain-damp air. Cinder jumped back, a harsh sound breaking from him as the stun current hit.

But he’d been swift enough to avoid a direct hit. His hand caught her again, this time around the sleeve of her sweater. He jerked her back to the bars, and her wrist folded at a bad angle against the metal edge of the gate.

Pain burst bright and sickening. She cried out, but she didn’t let go of the sleeve. Cinder swore and reached beneath his coat.

The gun appeared in his hand.

Images of the cracked door, the mask, the voice flooded her mind. The gun rising toward her chest. Tthe fear tried to freeze her in place.

Then she thought of Emma. Mardi and Cordi. Jasper bleeding because he’d put himself between her and a bullet.

No!

She swung the flashlight, not at his hand this time but at the gun. The blow knocked his aim sideways as he fired. The shot cracked through the service lane and punched into the metal frame above her head, showering her cheek and neck with stinging fragments.

She stumbled, slipped on the wet concrete, and hit the wall hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs.

The back of her head clipped the edge of the access panel. The world flashed white.

For a heartbeat, the rain had no sound.

Then everything came back at once: the alarm shrieking far away, Cinder cursing, the smell of burned metal from the stun charge, and Jasper’s voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.

“Katherine!”

Cinder’s face changed.

Not fear--calculation.

He reached for the fallen sleeve of paper, but Katherine lunged to grab it before he could hook it through the bars. The movement sent pain screaming through her wrist and up her arm. She bit down on a cry and shoved the archival sleeve beneath her body.

Cinder raised the gun again.

Jasper hit him from his side of the gate. One second Cinder stood outside the bars, weapon angled toward her. The next, Jasper slammed into him, driving him away from the gate and into the wet gravel. He moved like fury given shape, a hand locked around Cinder’s weapon hand.

The gun went off. A bullet tore into the gravel.