Chapter 3

He didn't let go. His fingers clamped around my wrist, skin searing through my sleeve. "Your heart is doing a frantic little dance. You're terrified. Or maybe you're just lying to yourself about how much you hate this bond."

"I hate *you*. There's a difference," I snapped. I wrenched my arm, but he held fast.

Around us, the Low Market had turned into a nightmare. Dozens of merchants and scavengers were pressed against the grime-streaked cobblestones, foreheads in the dirt. They weren't just scared. They were worshipping.

The air tasted like ozone and old copper. The smell of a magical meltdown.

"Stand up!" I yelled at a twitchy man in a grease-stained apron. "Who are these people? Why the hell are you acting like he's a god?"

The man didn't even look at me. His eyes were locked on Carson. "The Calamity King doesn't ask for a throne, girl. He just brings the fire. Please... just take what you want and leave before the city burns."

"Calamity King?"

I looked at Carson. He looked bored. Like he'd heard the title a thousand times and found it tedious. But his eyes—dark, heavy, oppressive—were scanning the rooftops.

"Stop playing the misunderstood prince," I hissed. "Tell me why the Cartel is sending a full squad of suppressors to a flea market."

"Because I'm a very expensive piece of luggage, Evelyn," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "And they don't like it when their luggage walks away."

*CRACK.*

A flash-bang detonated ten feet away. White light blinded me. A high-pitched scream ripped through my ears, and then—*slam*.

A heavy boot hit my ribs. I skidded across the wet pavement, gasping for air that wouldn't come.

"Target acquired!" a voice barked. "Don't kill the girl. Just break her legs if she gets in the way!"

I tried to scramble up. A boot pressed firmly onto my chest, pinning me to the grit. I looked up into the visor of a Cartel Enforcer—matte black plating and glowing red runes. He leveled a shock-baton at my throat.

"Where's the Rook, little bird? Give him up, and maybe we won't erase your memory for the next decade."

"Go to hell," I spat. I reached for the contract-cutter hidden in my boot.

*Slam.*

Something hit the Enforcer so hard he flew backward, armor clattering against a metal stall.

Carson was standing over me. He wasn't even breathing hard, but the air around him shimmered like a highway heat haze. A black vein pulsed on his neck, climbing toward his jawline.

"Move," he commanded.

He didn't look at me. He grabbed the collar of my jacket and hauled me up in one violent motion. He didn't let go. He kept me pinned against his side, his arm a vice across my chest.

"I can walk!" I hissed, clutching my ribs.

"You can't even stand straight," he countered. "Now shut up and run, or I'll let them have you."

We bolted. We dove deeper into the guts of the market, weaving through alleys that smelled of rotting fish and burnt magic. Every time I stumbled, the bond snapped tight. I felt his irritation—a sharp, metallic tang in my throat. He felt my panic—a frantic drumming in his chest that wasn't his own.

"This is bullshit," I panted as we dove behind a stack of rusted shipping crates. "I'm a hunter. I'm the one who gets paid. I'm not your sidekick, and I'm definitely not your bodyguard."

"You're neither," Carson said.

He leaned in. His face was inches from mine. I could smell peppermint and something dark, like old ink. "You're a lock, Evelyn. You're the second seal on a door that was never meant to be opened. That's why you're still breathing."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means your little 'contract cutting' trick didn't just break my chain. It fused us. You didn't free me; you just shared the prison."

He stepped closer, crowding me into the cold metal of the crate. His height was oppressive, filling every inch of the narrow alley. I wanted to push him away, but my hands stayed frozen. I could feel the heat radiating off him, a slow-burn intensity that made the fine hairs on my arms stand up.

"You want out?" he whispered. His gaze dropped to my lips for a fraction of a second before locking back onto my eyes. "You want to go back to your pathetic little debts and your missing sister?"

I stiffened. "How do you know about—"

"I know everything the Cartel knows. Which is why you're going to stop fighting me and start listening."

A scream ripped through the alley.

One of the merchants we'd passed was being dragged out by two Enforcers. They weren't questioning him. They were using a resonance-spike—a jagged needle of blue light—to rip information directly from his nerves.

"Where is the Rook?" the lead Enforcer yelled. "He's bonded to the girl! Find the girl, find the key!"

Carson's grip tightened. His fingers dug into my shoulder, and the bond surged. I didn't just feel his anger; I felt a void. A hunger. Something inside him was waking up, and it wanted to tear the world apart.

"We need to get to Mara," I whispered. "She's the only one who can read the bond without killing us both."

"Fine," he muttered. "But if she tries to dissect me, I'm using you as a shield."

"Deal," I snapped. "Just don't get us killed before I find a way to cut you out of my life."

We hit Mara's clinic—a basement beneath a laundromat that smelled of bleach and illegal alchemy. Mara didn't even greet us. She just pointed to the reinforced surgical table.

"Get him on it. You look like shit, Evie," Mara said, scanning the black veins on Carson's neck. "And he looks like a walking apocalypse. What did you do?"

"I cut the contract," I said, sliding down the wall to the floor. "It... it didn't work."

Mara didn't answer. She pressed a vacuum-extractor against Carson's forearm. He didn't flinch. As the machine hummed, a thick, iridescent black fluid began to flow through the tube. It wasn't blood. It was liquid shadow.

"This isn't just a curse," Mara whispered. "This is a living archive. The Cartel didn't just seal him; they stored something inside him."

Carson closed his eyes. "Just get it out, Mara. Before it gets out on its own."

Suddenly, the machine beeped. A small, metallic object clicked against the glass. A sliver of obsidian carved with runes that writhed like insects.

"What is that?" I asked, standing up.

Mara's face went pale. She held the key up to a spectral scanner. Encrypted files projected onto the wall. One was highlighted in red.

I stepped forward. My heart stopped. I knew that seal. I'd seen it on the only piece of paper my father had left behind.

"Mara... what is that?"

"It's not a key to a vault, Evelyn," Mara said, her voice tight with pity. "It's a pointer. This key is linked to a specific debt contract. A high-level Cartel bond declared 'lost' five years ago."

She pointed to the name on the projection. My sister's name.

"Your sister isn't just missing," Mara said. "She's the collateral for whatever is locked inside this man. And if you cut the bond between you and Carson, the key vanishes—and so does the only lead to where she's being held."

I stared at the obsidian sliver. I looked at Carson. He was watching me, his expression unreadable, but for the first time, I saw guilt in his eyes.

"You knew," I breathed. "You knew she was tied to you."

Carson didn't deny it. He leaned back against the table. "I told you we were in the same prison, Evelyn."

*Wail.*

Cartel war-horns screamed outside. The basement ceiling groaned under the weight of a breaching charge.

"They're here," Mara yelled, reaching for a weapon. "And Evelyn—they've updated the bounty. You're not a witness anymore."

She flicked a screen toward me. My face was right next to his. The reward was double.

"What do we do?"

Carson stood up, the black veins on his neck glowing with a violent light. He grabbed my hand, his grip bruising. "We stop running, and we start breaking things."

*BOOM.*

The ceiling exploded in a rain of concrete and fire. As the smoke cleared, a voice boomed from the rubble:

"Hand over the Heir and the Lock, or we level the entire district!"