Keeping Kaelen still had saved lives.
It had also marked Nora as the only key anyone cared about.
They didn't put handcuffs on Nora.
They didn't need to.
The rifles aimed at her back were enough.
"Slow," the team leader said. His visor turned slightly, tracking Kaelen's hands like they were live grenades. "Ma'am, you're going to walk with us."
Nora's mouth was dry. Her skull still throbbed from the last command.
"I'm not going anywhere," she said, and heard her own voice shake, "unless he comes too."
Kaelen's fingers tightened around hers.
Heat rolled off him in a hungry wave, licking at the soldiers' nerves. Nora felt it like a pressure change in her lungs.
The team leader stared at her.
"You don't get to negotiate."
Nora's laugh came out too sharp. "Then shoot him and see what happens."
A beat of silence.
Nora held Kaelen's gaze and kept her hand on his cheek—steady, anchoring.
"Kaelen," she whispered. "Stay."
The word hit her like a nail through the head. White flashed behind her eyes.
Kaelen's shoulders went rigid.
He obeyed.
The air settled—barely.
The team leader swore under his breath, then spoke into his mic. "We're taking both. Stabilizer is required. Asset is viable under control."
A soldier moved closer with a restraint collar—thick, matte black, lined with embedded sensors.
Nora's stomach tightened.
"No," she said immediately.
The soldier paused.
The leader's visor snapped to her. "It's non-lethal."
"It's a leash."
Kaelen's eyes flared.
The temperature spiked.
The closest soldier shifted his stance, finger tightening on the trigger.
Nora stepped in front of Kaelen again, because apparently she was insane now.
"Don't," she said to the soldier. Then, to the leader: "You want him calm? You don't humiliate him."
The leader's silence was a kind of assessment.
Then he made a small gesture.
"Wrist restraints only," he said. "No collar."
Kaelen's gaze cut to Nora, something dark and possessive in it.
As two soldiers approached with reinforced cuffs, Nora leaned in and murmured, low and fast.
"Let it happen," she said. "If you move, they'll kill you."
Kaelen's jaw clenched. The ember-seams along his throat pulsed.
Then—slowly—he offered his wrists.
Not submission.
A tactical choice.
The cuffs clicked shut with a heavy, final sound.
Nora exhaled, barely.
They moved as a unit, rifles up, bodies tight, like they were escorting a bomb through a kindergarten.
In the hallway, office workers pressed themselves against the walls, faces wet, eyes wide.
Dave was still stuck against the drywall where Kaelen had pinned him—except now he wasn't floating.
He'd slid down and was sitting in a heap, coughing, hands clawing at his throat, makeup of sweat and terror staining his face.
Two building security guards—late, useless—had him by the arms. Someone had slapped plastic zip ties around his wrists.
His eyes found Nora.
Hate, then fear, then pleading—all in a blink.
"Nora," he croaked. "Tell them—tell them you work for me—"
Kaelen's head turned.
The air warmed, sharp and predatory.
Heat spiked. Nora moved before anyone screamed.
She tightened her grip on Kaelen's cuffed hand.
"Kaelen," she said, voice low. "Look at me."
He did.
The ember-lines dimmed like a fire banked down.
Nora looked at Dave and let herself smile—small, cold, and real.
"No," she said.
And she walked past him.
Dave made a sound like something inside him cracked.
She waited for guilt. It didn't come.
________________
The elevator was a steel throat.
They put Nora in the center, surrounded by armored bodies. Kaelen stood to her right, cuffed hands held low, eyes tracking every muzzle with a predator's patience.
The moment the doors closed, the world got quieter—like even the building was holding its breath.
A soldier spoke into a comms unit. "Courier package secured. Moving to Site Twelve."
The cardboard box—her box—sat in a clear evidence bag at Nora's hip, sealed like contraband.
She could still see the handwriting on the label.
As if someone out there had written her name on purpose.
Site Twelve.
Nora hated how normal it sounded.
"Where are you taking us?" she asked.
No one answered.
So she asked a better question.
"What happens if I faint?"
The leader's visor turned toward her.
Nora kept her palm against Kaelen's forearm. The heat there was steady—contained.
"For a man like him," she said, "I'm the difference between calm and… slaughter."
The leader didn't respond right away.
Then: "Don't faint."
Nora swallowed. "Noted."
The elevator dropped.
The lights flickered once.
Kaelen's gaze narrowed. Something in him reached—testing the air, searching for threat.
She tightened her hand on his.
"Stay with me," she whispered.
Kaelen's mouth brushed close to her ear, voice like a blade wrapped in smoke.
"They want to take you," he murmured.
Nora's skin prickled.
"They want to take us," she corrected.
Kaelen's eyes slid to her, molten and intent.
"I will kill them," he said, like he was discussing weather.
Nora's head throbbed at the idea of another command.
She didn't give one.
Not yet.
Instead, she chose a different kind of control.
"Then you start with listening," she whispered.
Kaelen's nostrils flared.
The elevator chimed.
Doors opened.
A private underground bay waited—black SUVs, bright floodlights, personnel moving with practiced speed.
They guided Nora into the back of an armored vehicle. Kaelen followed, ducking his head under the doorframe like a lion entering a cage.
They sat opposite each other, knees almost touching.
A divider of reinforced glass separated them from the driver.
The moment the door shut, the SUV's idle-thrum climbed her bones.
The city slid away.
Nora stared at her own hands, still faintly tinged with frost.
Kaelen watched her like she was food and air and religion.
"You hurt," he said.
Nora blinked. "What?"
Kaelen tilted his head, eyes fixed on her pupils, the tremor in her fingers, the faint bite marks where she'd clenched her jaw too hard.
"When you speak that word," he said, "it costs you."
Nora's throat tightened.
She didn't want him to notice.
She didn't want anyone to notice.
But he was looking at her the way monsters looked at weaknesses—except his voice wasn't mocking.
It was… sharp with something else.
"Don't," she whispered, instinctively.
Kaelen leaned closer as much as the cuffs allowed, and the heat of him pushed against her cold like two storms meeting.
"Then stop saving them," he murmured. "Save me."
The vehicle took a hard turn.
Nora's shoulder bumped the wall.
Outside, neon and concrete smeared into darkness.
Inside, Kaelen's gaze stayed on her like a vow being forged.
Nora licked her lips, thinking fast.
If this was going to keep happening—kings cracking through walls, agencies dragging her into black vans—then she needed more than bravery.
She needed terms.
And she needed them now.
The SUV descended into a concrete throat.
The air turned colder—not Nora's cold. Institutional cold.
When the doors opened, white light washed over them.
Men in black moved with practiced distance, eyes never quite meeting Kaelen's.
Only hers.
A man without a vest stepped forward—clean shirt, calm face, eyes like paperwork.
He didn't look at the King.
He looked at Nora's hand.
"Good," he said softly. "You're awake."
Kaelen's stare sharpened.
And the man smiled, just a little, like he'd found the lever he'd been searching for.