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The comm unit hit the floor. Vera's voice cut off mid-threat.
Drake didn't move. He stood there, silver knife still in his hand, staring at me like I'd just ripped the ground out from under him.
"You told her," he said. Flat. No question mark.
"Yeah." I kicked the comm toward the wall. "I did."
"You just—" He stopped. Started again. "You signed my death warrant."
"I signed mine first." I pulled my coat tighter. The monastery was freezing this time of year. Always had been. "Vera's not coming for you, Drake. She's coming for me. And when she gets here, you get to decide."
"Decide what?"
"Whether you finish the job or not."
He laughed. Bitter sound, no humor in it. "You think I have a choice? The Guild doesn't do catch-and-release. If I don't kill you, someone else will. Probably me too, for being compromised."
"Then kill me." I opened my arms. "Go ahead. You've got the blade. I'm right here."
He didn't move.
"What's the matter, hunter? Lose your nerve?"
"Shut up." He stepped closer. The silver blade caught the candlelight. "You want to die so bad, stop playing games."
"I'm not playing." I met his eyes. "You came here to kill a Darkborn. I'm half. That counts, doesn't it?"
"Half." He said it like he was testing the word. "Half what?"
"Half human. Half the thing your Guild's been hunting for three hundred years." I pulled my sleeve back. The veins along my wrist were darker than they should be. Always had been. "My mother was human. My father was Darkborn. They killed him when I was ten. Killed her when I was sixteen. Then they burned the monastery and everyone in it."
Drake's jaw tightened. "The massacre."
"You know about it?"
"Every hunter knows about St. Stone. It's in the archives. A Darkborn coven tried to turn the entire monastery. The Guild purged it before the infection spread."
"That's the story they tell you?" I laughed. Sounded wrong even to me. "That's what they wrote in the archives?"
"You saying it's a lie?"
"I'm saying I was here." I moved toward the crypt entrance. The stone steps leading down were slick with condensation. "I watched them burn it. The Darkborn didn't turn anyone. They were refugees. My mother hid them because the Guild was slaughtering everything with fangs, no questions asked. When the hunters found out, they decided the whole place was compromised."
"That doesn't make sense. The Guild has protocols. Trials. Evidence."
"Yeah?" I glanced back. "How much evidence did Vera need before she declared you tainted?"
That shut him up.
I kept walking. Down into the crypt. The air got colder with every step. I could feel the weight of the stone above us. Four hundred years and this place still smelled like smoke.
"Where are we going?" Drake's voice echoed behind me.
"You wanted to know what's down here. I'm showing you."
"Ella—"
"Stay close. The wards don't like strangers."
The crypt opened into a circular chamber. The walls were carved with symbols I'd spent two centuries trying to forget. Old language. Older magic. My mother's work.
Drake stopped at the threshold. "What is this?"
"Insurance." I walked to the center. There was a stone altar. No, not an altar. A well. The opening was narrow, barely two feet across, but I could hear water moving deep below. "When my mother realized the Guild was coming, she made a deal. She bound something down here. Something that would keep me alive no matter what."
"The blood pact."
"Part of it." I knelt beside the well. The stone was warm under my palm. Wrong. Stone shouldn't be warm this far underground. "The rest is in you."
Drake came closer. I heard the knife before I saw it. Silver edge pressed against the side of my throat.
"Give me one reason," he said quietly, "why I shouldn't end this right now."
"Because you'll die too."
"You keep saying that. Prove it."
I reached up slowly. Wrapped my fingers around his wrist. Not pulling the knife away. Just holding on.
"The sanctified silver in your blood," I said. "It's not just burning you. It's rewriting you. Turning your own body into a weapon against itself. The only thing stopping it from cooking you alive is my blood. You felt it, didn't you? When you woke up. The burning stopped."
His grip tightened. "So you poisoned me and made yourself the antidote. That's sick."
"I didn't poison you. The trap did. I just kept you from dying." I looked up at him. "And yeah, maybe that was selfish. Maybe I should've let you go. But I've been alone for four hundred years, Drake. I'm tired of watching people die because of what I am."
The knife didn't move. Neither did he.
Then his hand started shaking.
"Drake?"
He gasped. The knife clattered to the ground. He grabbed my shoulder, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.
"What's happening—" He couldn't finish. His legs buckled.
I caught him. Barely. He was heavier than he looked.
"The silver," I said. "It's accelerating. How long has it been since you fed?"
"Fed?" He could barely get the word out. "I don't—"
"Since you drank my blood, Drake. How long?"
"This morning. Maybe six hours."
Six hours. It was getting faster.
I lowered him to the ground. His skin was burning up. I could see the veins in his neck turning dark, same as mine.
"Okay," I said. Trying to sound calm. Failing. "Okay. This is fixable."
"Liar."
"Shut up and trust me."
I bit my wrist. The blood came fast. I pressed it against his mouth.
He tried to push me away. "No—"
"Drink or die. Your choice."
He drank.
The change was immediate. The shaking stopped. His breathing evened out. The dark veins faded.
I pulled my wrist back. The wound was already closing.
Drake rolled onto his side, coughing. "What the hell did you do to me?"
"Bought you another six hours. Maybe less."
"This is insane." He pushed himself up. "I can't—I can't live like this."
"You don't have to." I stood. Walked back to the well. "There's a way to break the pact. But you're not going to like it."
"Tell me."
"My mother bound something down here. Something old. If we wake it up, it can sever the connection. But—"
The temperature dropped. Fast.
Drake felt it too. He grabbed the silver knife. "What is that?"
"Company."
The symbols on the wall started glowing. Faint at first, then brighter. Blue-white light that hurt to look at.
And then the door opened.
Not the door we came through. A different one. Set into the far wall. I hadn't seen it when we walked in. Now it was obvious. Stone frame carved with the same symbols. The same language.
The same blood mark I'd seen on the crypt entrance.
Drake moved in front of me. Knife up. "Stay back."
"Drake—"
"I said stay back."
The door swung open. Slow. Deliberate.
There was nothing behind it. Just darkness.
And then a voice.
My mother's voice.
"Ella," she said. Soft. Familiar. Wrong. "You came back."
I couldn't breathe.
"Bring me the hunter," my mother said. "It's time."