Chapter 4

"You're not listening, Evelyn," he rasped. The voice was a low grate, vibrating in the air between us. "The Cartel isn't coming to negotiate. They're coming to harvest. Run now, and you're just delivering yourself to the butcher."

"I can handle myself," I spat. I stared up into eyes like shattered obsidian. "I've spent three years cutting bonds for people twice as scary as your family. Let go before I cut yours out of your chest."

Carson didn't flinch. He leaned closer. His breath ghosted over my lips, and for a second, the hate shifted into something violent and electric. I could feel the erratic thrum of the curse beneath his skin, pulsing in time with my own heart. We were chained—literally and magically. Every second he held me, the bond tightened like a noose.

"You want your sister back," he whispered. "That's the only reason you haven't stabbed me yet. Tell me you don't want her. Tell me she's just a footnote in your life."

I stopped fighting. My breath hitched. In the silence of the ruined clinic, the distant scream of sirens felt like a death knell.

"You son of a bitch," I whispered. "What did they do to her?"

He let go, but he didn't move. He loomed over me, a dark silhouette against the flickering lights of the surgery room.

"They didn't just take her," he said. "They used her. She's the anchor for the seal inside me. If I die, she vanishes. If she dies, I become the thing they're afraid of."

"And the key?" I demanded, glancing at Mara. She was frantically packing medical supplies into a reinforced case. "The black key in your blood?"

"That," Carson said, his voice turning ice-cold, "is the only way to unlock her contract without triggering a collapse. But the Cartel has the other half. They're holding a shadow auction tonight."

"An auction?"

"The 'Lot' isn't gold, Evelyn. It's the original debt scrolls for every collateral prisoner in the district. Including your sister."

Mara stepped in, her face grim. "He's right. Midnight at the Gilded Vault. If we don't get that scroll, the Cartel sells her to another house by dawn. You won't even have a name to hunt."

I looked at Carson. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to rip the secret out of his throat. But the way he looked at me—not with pity, but a jagged, desperate understanding—made my stomach flip. He knew what it was like to be property.

"I don't have the credits to bid on a high-tier contract," I said, my voice shaking. "I'm a debt hunter, not a mogul."

Carson took a step toward me. His hand hovered near my waist. He didn't touch me, but the heat was there, suffocating and magnetic.

"You don't need credits," he said. "You need a sacrifice. The auctioneer takes a 'Blood Bid' for the volatile contracts. A life for a life. Or a bond for a bond."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm the most valuable thing in that room." A dark smile touched his lips. "They want me back in the cage. I walk in, I offer myself as the bid, and they give you the scroll. You get your sister. I go back to hell."

"No," I snapped. "You're the only one who knows how to break the seal. I'm not letting you walk back into their hands."

"Do you think I have a choice?" He stepped back into my space, his chest brushing my shoulder. "Look at me, Evelyn. I'm leaking. The curse is eating me alive. I can't fight the Cartel and the rot at the same time."

I reached out, my fingers brushing the collar of his shirt. The magic was humming, a dangerous vibration that made the hair on my arms stand up.

"There has to be another way."

"There isn't," he said, eyes locking onto mine. "Here's the deal. You get the scroll. You get your sister. And once she's safe, you use your skill to sever the bond between us. Permanently. No matter what it costs me."

"You'd die."

"Better to die on my terms than live as their battery." He reached up, his thumb grazing my jawline. The touch was electric—a jolt of intimacy that felt like betrayal. I should've pushed him. Instead, I leaned in.

"Fine," I said, pulling back sharply. "But if you play me, I'll cut your tongue out before the handcuffs even click."

"I'd expect nothing less."

***

The Gilded Vault was a nightmare of gold leaf and blood-stained marble. A fortress for the city's most depraved spell-brokers. We slipped through the servant's entrance—bribes and one of Mara's distraction charms—and the air turned heavy with expensive perfume and desperation.

I kept my head down, gripping the cutting blade hidden in my sleeve. Carson walked beside me, drawing eyes like a magnet. He didn't look like a fugitive; he looked like a prince returning to a slaughterhouse. He wore a tailored black suit that hid the tremors in his hands, but I could feel them through the bond.

"Stay close," he whispered. "And for god's sake, don't look at the guards. Look at me."

"Why?"

"Because if they see you're with me, the price goes up." He shifted, his arm brushing mine. The contact was steady. Grounding. For a moment, the chaos faded. Just two broken things trying to trick the world.

We hit the main floor just as the auctioneer—a spindly man with silver eyes and a voice like grinding stones—stepped onto the podium.

"Welcome, Lords and Ladies of the Cartel," the man announced. "Tonight, we offer legacy. The scrolls of the Lost Collaterals. Debts unpaid, souls bound. Starting bid for the first lot: ten thousand credits."

Carson stiffened. He was calculating. Weighing my sister's life against the seconds he had left to breathe.

"Wait!" Carson's voice rang out, cutting through the noise. He stepped forward, the crowd parting like a sea of sharks. He didn't look at the bidders. He looked straight at the auctioneer. "I'm not bidding credits."

The room went silent.

"And what," the auctioneer sneered, "does the prodigal son offer?"

Carson didn't hesitate. He stepped to the edge of the stage and tilted his head back, exposing the pale line of his throat where the black veins of the curse were pulsing.

"Me," Carson said. "The vessel. The heir. Take me back into the seal, and give the girl the scroll for Lot 42."

I froze. Lot 42. My sister.

I looked at him—really looked at him. He wasn't just making a deal. He was offering his life for someone he'd never met. The power shifted in a heartbeat. He wasn't holding the leash anymore. He was handing me the knife.

"A bold offer," the auctioneer chuckled, his eyes gleaming. "But the scroll is already promised to a private buyer. However... the Cartel always appreciates a donation."

He signaled a guard. A heavy, rune-carved collar snapped shut around Carson's neck. Magic surged through him instantly. He gasped, his knees buckling for a split second before he forced himself upright.

I stepped forward, heart hammering. "The scroll. Now."

The auctioneer reached into a velvet box and pulled out a piece of yellowed parchment. He didn't hand it over. He ripped it open, glancing at the fine print with a smirk.

"Ah, a curious detail," he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. "You see, Miss Vale, the contract doesn't belong to the Cartel anymore."

I reached for the paper, but he yanked it back.

"Read the bottom line. Your sister isn't just a prisoner. She's been transferred."

I looked at Carson. He was staring at me, the collar around his neck glowing with a sick, pulsing light.

"What?" I breathed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," the auctioneer grinned, "that Carson Rook doesn't just own the key. He owns your sister."