"Don't move another inch, or I'll snap your wrist just to see if it helps the humming in my head," Rhys spat. He had me pinned against the damp brick of the alleyway, his forearm pressing hard into my windpipe.
I gasped, clawing at his sleeve. "The humming... is the link, you idiot. We're chained. You pull away, I feel it. I pull away, you feel it."
"Shut up," he hissed. He didn't let go. His eyes were dark, scanning the mouth of the alley where the corporate sirens were still wailing. He looked like he wanted to shake me until my teeth rattled, but he was trembling. Not from fear—from the same violent vibration rattling my own ribs.
I managed to twist my head, glaring up at him. "You're the elite hunter, right? The corporate golden boy? Then tell me why your heart is beating like a trapped bird against my chest."
Rhys stiffened. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low growl. "Because every time you panic, my pulse spikes. It's like sharing a nervous breakdown with a street rat. Now, give me the key."
"I can't," I choked out. "It's not in my pocket anymore. It's... inside. The link fused it. We're the key now."
He recoiled as if I'd slapped him, his grip loosening just enough for me to breathe. "What do you mean, 'inside'?"
"I mean we're stuck, Rhys. If you try to drag me to a corporate holding cell, we're both going to pass out halfway there. Or worse."
He stared at me for a long second, his gaze dropping to the faint, glowing sigil etched into my collarbone—the same one now mirroring itself on his own skin. He looked disgusted. Then he looked desperate.
"Fine," he snapped, stepping back but keeping his hand on the hilt of his combat knife. "Where the hell do we go?"
"Follow me. And keep your distance—about five feet. Any closer and I can feel your annoyance like a migraine."
I turned and bolted toward the narrow gap between two tenements. I didn't look back to see if he was following; I could feel him. It was a weird, psychic tether, a physical tugging in the center of my chest that told me exactly where he was.
"Wait!" he shouted, his heavy boots thudding on the pavement.
I dove through a rusted iron gate, sliding under a collapsed fire escape. "Too loud! Stop shouting!"
"I'm not shouting, you're just sensitive!" he yelled back, though he lowered his voice slightly.
I stopped abruptly and leaned against a graffiti-covered wall, catching my breath. I could feel his frustration radiating off him in waves—hot, sharp, and arrogant. It was suffocating.
"Listen," I said, looking at him. He was standing too straight, too polished for this part of the city. His tactical gear was worth more than my entire apartment building. "The Corp has scanners in every main artery. If we hit the street, we're dead. I know the back-alleys. I know the rifts that aren't on the map."
Rhys crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. "And why should I trust a thief who just accidentally bonded her soul to mine?"
"Because you're currently feeling my hunger," I smirked, leaning back. "And if I faint from low blood sugar, you're going to feel a very sudden, very violent drop in blood pressure. Probably won't even have time to hit the ground before you black out."
He glared at me, his jaw tight. I could feel the tension in his shoulders—a physical weight that pressed into my own muscles. He hated that I had a hold on him. He hated that for the first time in his life, he wasn't the one in control.
"I can kill you," he whispered, stepping forward. The distance closed. I could smell the ozone and expensive leather on him. He was so close I could see the gold flecks in his irises. He reached out, his fingers gripping my chin, forcing me to look up.
"You could," I whispered back, my heart hammering. "But then you'd be a very handsome corpse lying in a gutter. Want to test it?"
His thumb brushed my lower lip, a gesture that should have been threatening but felt like a spark of electricity. For a second, the anger vanished, replaced by a heavy, suffocating tension. We were both breathing the same air, our pulses syncing up in a way that had nothing to do with the magic.
Then he shoved me away. Hard.
"Move," he commanded. "Before I change my mind."
We wound through the guts of the city, a maze of dripping pipes and neon signs that flickered like dying stars. Every time Rhys tried to take the lead, the link snapped. It happened when we hit a sharp turn—he lunged forward to clear a path, and I was suddenly yanked three feet forward, my boots skidding on the wet concrete.
"Stop it!" I yelled, stumbling.
"I'm not doing anything!" he roared, spinning around.
"You're moving too fast! The link can't handle the acceleration difference!"
He stopped, breathing hard. He looked at his hands, his fingers twitching. "It's getting stronger. The humming. It's not just a sound anymore. It's... words."
I froze. "Words? What words?"
"I can't tell. Just fragments. Something about a harvest. Something about the rift."
I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the rain. "The corporate sacrifice. They're speeding it up."
"How do you know about that?" Rhys demanded, his voice sharp. He stepped toward me, his presence overwhelming.
"I'm a fixer, Rhys. I hear things. I fix marks for people who can't go to the clinics. The Corp isn't just hunting rifts; they're feeding them. And they need a lot of fuel to open the main gate."
He scoffed, but I could feel the doubt creeping into him. He wanted to believe his employers were just cold, not murderous.
"You're lying to make me trust you," he said, though he didn't sound sure.
"Believe what you want. But we need to get to Talia's. Now."
We reached a nondescript steel door tucked behind a dumpster. I knocked a specific rhythm—three fast, two slow. A small slide opened, and a pair of tired, sharp eyes peered out.
"Mara? Is that you? Why do you smell like corporate ozone and bad decisions?"
"Open up, Talia! I've got a situation!"
The door groaned open, revealing a cramped space filled with humming medical monitors, stacks of illegal spell-books, and the smell of antiseptic and strong coffee. Talia Boone didn't even say hello. She just looked at Rhys, then at the glowing mark on my neck, and sighed.
"Great," she said, gesturing to a rusted exam table. "You've managed to get soul-tethered to a bounty hunter. I'm charging you double for the consultation."
Rhys didn't sit. He stood in the center of the room, looking like a wolf in a dollhouse. He was rigid, his eyes darting from the equipment to the door.
"Can you break it?" he asked, his voice strained.
Talia walked over to him, circling him like a specimen. She reached out to touch the mark on his chest, and he flinched.
"Break it?" Talia laughed, a dry, hacking sound. "Honey, this isn't a knot you just untie. This is a Riftbound Contract. The key didn't just link you; it fused your metaphysical blueprints. You're not two people anymore. You're one system with two bodies."
Rhys looked at me, a mixture of horror and hatred in his eyes. "Tell me she's joking."
"She's not," I said, sliding into a chair and crossing my legs. "Get used to it, golden boy. We're roommates for the foreseeable future."
Rhys opened his mouth to retort, but suddenly he gasped. His eyes went wide, and he collapsed to one knee, clutching his head.
"Rhys!" I jumped up, feeling a sudden, sharp spike of agony shoot through my own skull.
"Get... out... of my head!" he screamed, his voice distorted.
Talia stepped back, her face pale. "Oh no. The link isn't just sharing physical stats. It's starting to bleed memories. Mara, he's not just a hunter. There's something inside him—something the Corp put there."
Rhys let out a guttural roar, and for a split second, the shadows in the room surged toward him, twisting like living snakes. He looked up at me, and for the first time, I didn't see the hunter. I saw something broken, something terrified, and something incredibly dangerous.
"It's happening," he wheezed, his grip tightening on the edge of the table until the metal began to bend. "The... the protocol..."
"What protocol?" I demanded, reaching for him.
He grabbed my wrist, his skin searingly hot, his eyes turning a void-like black. "They're not coming for the key, Mara. They're coming for—"