Elira knew she was thinking the wrong thing before she finished thinking it.
The realization came with a tightening behind her eyes, a subtle pressure that sharpened into warning. Her breath caught halfway in, lungs stalling like they'd hit an invisible wall.
Stop, Kael said quietly.
She flinched.
She hadn't spoken. She hadn't moved. The thought had barely formed. An image, really. A door. A street. Distance.
Her heart began to race.
"So that's it," she said under her breath. "You can hear everything now."
Kael did not deny it.
You are still adjusting, he replied. Your mind is loud when it believes it is alone.
Elira pressed her fingers into the thin mattress, grounding herself. The apartment felt smaller this morning. The walls are closing. The air is heavier.
"I wasn't planning anything," she said.
A pause.
That is not true.
Anger sparked. "You don't get to—"
The pressure returned. Not painful. Precise. Her jaw locked mid-sentence.
Her mouth closed.
Her body went still.
Kael's voice remained calm, almost instructive.
Rule one, he said. Do not lie. Not to me. Not to yourself. Lies fracture the bond. Fractures bleed.
Her jaw loosened. She sucked in a breath, fury trembling through her hands.
"You're setting rules now?"
I have always had rules. You did not survive long enough to hear them before.
She pushed to her feet and began pacing the room, needing movement even if it changed nothing. Each step felt measured, controlled, as if her body was already negotiating with something other than her will.
"You said obedience would keep me alive," she said. "You didn't say it would erase me."
Kael's presence shifted, attention narrowing.
You are not being erased, he replied. You are being streamlined.
"That's not comforting."
It is efficient.
Elira laughed once, sharp and humorless. "Of course it is."
She moved toward the narrow window and peered out through the dusty glass. The street below looked ordinary—a woman walking a dog. A man is unloading boxes. Life, unaware.
"I want to see my cousin," she said suddenly.
The air seemed to tighten.
Kael did not answer right away.
When he did, his voice was colder.
No.
Elira's shoulders tensed. "You don't get to decide that."
The pressure behind her eyes flared briefly—a reminder, not a punishment.
I decide what keeps you breathing. That decision does not include emotional compromises.
Her fingers curled into fists. "She's in danger because of me."
She is safer at a distance.
"You don't know that."
I know probabilities—a pause. And I know how easily you fracture when fear has a face.
Elira turned away from the window, chest tight. "So what? I disappear from everyone I care about?"
Kael's voice dropped, firm.
Yes.
The word landed like a closing door.
She swallowed hard. "Then what's left?"
Silence stretched.
Then Kael said, Me.
Her stomach twisted. "That's not enough."
Another pause. Longer this time.
It will have to be.
A sound outside broke the tension. Footsteps in the hall. Not rushed. Not heavy. Controlled.
Elira froze.
"Someone's there," she whispered.
Kael's presence sharpened instantly, predatory and alert.
I know.
Her pulse spiked. "Are they hunters?"
No.
That answer was worse.
The footsteps stopped outside the apartment door.
A knock followed.
Once.
Measured.
Elira's heart slammed. "What do we do?"
Kael did not hesitate.
You do nothing.
Her body obeyed before she could argue. Her feet planted. Her breathing slowed. Her pulse steadied against her will.
The knock came again.
"Elira Vale," a man's voice called through the door. Polite. Professional. "We need to speak with you."
Her blood went cold.
Kael's attention narrowed inward, coiling tighter around her spine.
He is not here to kill you, Kael said softly. He is here to confirm you.
"Confirm what?"
That the bond has progressed.
Elira's mouth went dry. "How would he know that?"
Kael's voice held something like disdain.
Because they sent him to measure the damage.
The handle began to turn slowly.
Locked.
But testing.
Elira's nails dug into her palms. "If he comes in—"
He will see you, Kael said. And he will know.
Her breath shook. "Then stop him."
A pause.
Not refusal.
Calculation.
If I stop him, Kael said, they will send something worse.
The handle stopped turning.
Silence pressed in.
Then the man spoke again, closer to the door now.
"You don't have to be afraid," he said mildly. "We're only here to help."
Kael's presence settled heavier, colder, wrapping around her ribs like armor.
Do not believe him, he said. And do not answer.
Elira stared at the door, heart pounding, mind racing uselessly.
"What happens if I do nothing?" she whispered.
Kael's reply came without hesitation.
Then the bond tightens.
Her breath hitched. "And if I open it?"
A long pause.
Then, quietly:
Then you will learn how much of you is already gone.
The knock came a third time.
Louder.
More insistent.
Elira closed her eyes, dread curling through her chest as the truth settled in.
This was no longer about running.
It was about how much of herself she was willing to surrender to stay alive.
And inside her, Kael Thorn waited, patient and absolute, ready to take whatever she chose to give.