Chapter 6 · Debt Hunters At The Clinic

"Keep your feet moving or I’ll leave you for the hounds," I snapped, hauling Carson’s arm over my shoulder.

He didn't argue. He couldn't. He was shaking too hard, his breath coming in ragged, wet hitches like he was drowning on dry land. Every few steps, the invisible chain between us snapped tight. A jolt of static electricity shot through my skin, making the hair on my arms stand up.

This wasn't a spiritual leash. It was a live wire. And we were both conductive.

"They’re close," Carson rasped. He leaned his head back, eyes unfocused. "I can smell them. The hounds... they don't just track scent. They track the leak."

"Shut up and walk," I muttered.

We were cutting through the Sector 4 lockdown zone. Cracked pavement. Air that tasted like burnt copper. The Spell Cartel had scrubbed this place clean of anyone who couldn't pay their soul-tax. Now? Just a concrete graveyard of rusted kiosks and shattered glass.

Then a howl ripped through the silence. Not a dog. A metallic, screeching sound that vibrated right in my teeth.

"Dammit."

I shoved Carson behind a collapsed storefront, pinning him against the grime-streaked wall. The proximity was sudden. Suffocating.