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"Stop. Just stop moving, or I'll carve that smug look right off your face," I snapped, pressing the edge of my blade against the pulse point of his neck.
Caelan didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. He just leaned back against the grime-streaked wall of the safehouse, his chest heaving in slow, jagged rhythms. His eyes were bloodshot, the gold iris swirling with a dark, oily violet—the mark of the lunar curse eating its way through his mind.
"You're shaking, Lyra," he rasped. His voice sounded like gravel grinding together. "Is it fear? Or are you just realizing how much you actually need me?"
"I need your head on a platter," I countered, tightening my grip. "The bounty on you is enough to buy my brother's freedom and a one-way ticket out of this hellhole. Don't make me do this while you're still conscious. It's messier that way."
He let out a dry, hacking laugh that turned into a cough. A thin trail of black blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. He didn't move away from the knife; instead, he tilted his head, exposing more of his throat.
"Then do it," he whispered. "Kill me. End the contract. See if that satisfies the court."
I didn't move. I couldn't. Because as I looked at him, I could see it—the shimmering, translucent threads of the death warrant we'd both signed. The contract wasn't just a piece of paper; it was a living parasite, and right now, it was pulsing in sync with his failing heartbeat. If he died here, the contract wouldn't just close. It would snap shut like a trap, and since my name was tied to his, I’d be the one dragged into the void.
"You're a pathetic excuse for a wolf heir," I spat, though my heart was hammering against my ribs.
"And you're a glorified debt collector with a savior complex," he retorted. He suddenly lunged forward, not to attack, but to grab my wrist.
His skin was burning. Not a fever—it was a searing, supernatural heat that made me hiss and try to jerk away. He didn't let go. His fingers clamped around my arm like iron manacles, pulling me flush against his chest. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of ozone and old cedar filling my lungs.
"Look at it," he commanded, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating against my collarbone. "Look at the mark, Lyra."
I stopped fighting for a second to look down. On the back of my hand, a small, glowing sigil—a life-mark I’d had since I was a child—was flickering. It was a pale gold light, the only thing I had left of my own identity. As he held me, the light began to bleed out of my skin, flowing like liquid gold into his veins.
I gasped, the sudden drain hitting me like a physical blow. A wave of exhaustion washed over me, making my knees buckle.
"What are you doing?" I yelled, trying to shove him back. "Stop it! Get off me!"
"I'm not doing anything," he groaned, his grip loosening as the stolen energy surged through him. The violet haze in his eyes receded for a moment, replaced by a sharp, piercing clarity. "The bond is doing it. You're the only one who can read the curse, which means you're the only one who can feed it."
I scrambled back, putting three feet of distance between us. I stared at my hand. The sigil was dimmer. Not gone, but faded, like a candle struggling against a draft.
"You're stealing my time," I whispered, horror dawning on me. "Every second you stay alive, you're eating my life."
Caelan slumped against the wall again, the brief surge of strength already vanishing. He looked at me—really looked at me—and for the first time, the arrogance was gone. There was something else there. Guilt? Or maybe just the exhaustion of a man who had been hunted for months.
"I'm not worth the cost," he said softly. "You should have left me in the rain."
"Don't try to play the martyr now," I snapped, though my voice lacked its usual bite. "You signed my death warrant. You're the reason I'm running. You don't get to feel bad about it."
"I didn't sign it," he said, his voice flat.
I froze. "What?"
"I woke up with the seal on my wrist and your name on the page," Caelan said, glancing at the black ink etched into his skin. "If I wanted you dead, Lyra, I wouldn't have waited for a contract. I would have ripped your throat out the moment we met."
"Right. Because you're such a gentleman," I rolled my eyes, but the seed of doubt was planted. If he hadn't signed it, then someone had forged the signature. Someone who knew exactly how to trigger the bond.
I stepped closer, my boots crunching on broken glass. I didn't put the knife back to his throat, but I kept it ready. "If you're lying to me, I will find a way to kill you that doesn't trigger the contract. I'll carve you into pieces slowly."
He gave a weak, ghost of a smile. "I'd expect nothing less."
I sighed, leaning against a rusted table. "Fine. We have seven days. Seven days until the bond expires or we both end up as ghost-dust. I can't let you die because I'm not losing my life to a clerical error. But you're not walking. You're staying exactly where I can see you."
"And how do you plan to enforce that?" he asked, his eyes tracking my every move. "You can't exactly handcuff a wolf who can shift into a killing machine."
"I don't need handcuffs," I said, a slow smirk forming. I reached into my jacket and pulled out a strip of shimmering, silver-threaded leather. It wasn't a cuff. It was a suppressive binding, etched with void-runes. "I have something better. This is a soul-tether. It doesn't stop you from shifting, but it makes every move you make feel like you're dragging a mountain behind you. And if you try to leave my side? It'll burn your skin off."
Caelan's expression shifted from exhaustion to genuine alarm. "You wouldn't. That's a high-court tool. Where did you steal that?"
"Does it matter?" I stepped forward, the silver leather humming in my hand. I grabbed his wrist—hard—and snapped the tether shut.
He let out a sharp hiss of pain as the runes flared blue, sinking into his skin. He tried to pull away, but the tether yanked him back toward me with a violent jerk, slamming his shoulder into mine.
"Damn it," he cursed, his breath hot against my ear. "You're actually insane."
"I'm a bounty hunter," I whispered, my heart racing from the proximity. "Insanity is part of the job description. Now, sit still and shut up while I figure out who's trying to kill us both."
I turned away to scan the room, trying to ignore the way he was staring at me. The tension in the room was thick, a mix of hatred and something far more dangerous that I refused to name.
Suddenly, a sharp, metallic *ping* echoed through the safehouse.
I spun around. On the peeling wallpaper of the far wall, a dark, crimson liquid was beginning to seep through the plaster. It wasn't a leak. It was writing. The blood formed sharp, jagged letters that glowed with a sickly light.
*HUNT NOTICE: TARGETS CONFIRMED.*
I stared at the wall, my blood turning to ice. Below the text, a countdown timer was ticking down in real-time.
*6 DAYS, 23 HOURS, 59 MINUTES.*
"What is that?" Caelan asked, leaning forward, his voice tense.
I backed away from the wall, the silver tether between us snapping taut. "It's a public summons. The whole city just got our location. We aren't just running from a contract anymore."
"Then what are we running from?" he asked.
I looked at the blood-red clock, then at the man tied to my soul. "Everyone who wants the bounty on your head. And they're already on their way."