The Blood-Bond Contract

The Doberman launched itself from the brush, a snarl vibrating through its massive chest. Before the beast could sink its teeth into my shoulder, Rowan’s hand shot out, catching the animal by its thick collar mid-air. With a grunt of effort, he hurled the dog back into the dark undergrowth just as the first tranquilizer dart hissed through the air.

Rowan didn't flinch as the dart buried itself in his shoulder. He reached back, snapped the plastic casing, and let the sedative-tipped needle fall into the dirt.

"Rowan!" I gasped, reaching for him.

"Stay down," he commanded, his voice tight. He turned toward the man with the rifle, but he didn't draw his weapon. Instead, he bared his teeth, his golden eyes glowing with a ferocity that stopped the guard in his tracks. "Tell Julian Cross that Enforcer 094 has claimed this asset under Council Jurisdiction. If a single one of you steps another foot into the Vale, I will treat it as a declaration of war against the Citadel."

The guard hesitated, his radio crackling with Julian’s frantic voice, before he slowly backed away into the fog.

Rowan turned back to me, his breathing heavy. His shirt was torn, and I saw then a jagged, fresh wound across his forearm that he must have sustained while fending off Vane’s team earlier. He wasn't just tired; he was bleeding out.

"We don't have time," he rasped, pulling me toward him. "The tranquilizer is high-grade. It won't put me under, but it’ll slow me down. We need to finalize the bond before my scent goes cold."

"How?" I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I don't know how to do this, Rowan. I’ve been chemically silenced for twelve years. I don’t even know if my wolf remembers how to bond."

"She remembers," Rowan whispered. He took my hand, pressing my palm against the warm, sticky blood on his forearm. "Blood first. Then the mark. It’s an ancient contract, Lyra. It doesn't care about the pills you took. It only cares about the truth in your veins."

The moment my skin touched his blood, something in the back of my mind snapped. The "fog" I had lived in for a decade didn't just lift; it burned away. A low, rhythmic thrumming began at the base of my spine, spreading through my limbs like liquid silver.

Claim him, the voice in my head roared no longer a whisper, but a command.

Rowan’s eyes went wide as my own eyes flared with a brilliance that illuminated the dark forest. I didn't wait for him to lead. I grabbed his vest, pulling him down until our foreheads pressed together.

"Three months," I whispered, my voice thick with a power I didn't recognize. "A fake bond to the world. But if you betray me, Rowan Ashcroft, if you take this child from me, I will burn the Council to the ground with you inside it."

A grim, admiring smile touched his lips. "I’d expect nothing less from a Silver Queen."

He leaned into the crook of my neck. I felt the heat of his breath, the sharp graze of his teeth, and then a searing, white-hot flash of pain that turned into the most intense pleasure I had ever known.

As he sank his teeth into the pulse point of my neck, our blood mingled. A psychic shockwave ripped through me. I saw flashes of his life, the years of cold corridors in the Citadel, the faces of the men he’d had to kill, and the absolute, soul-crushing loneliness of watching me from the shadows. He hadn't just been an Enforcer; he had been my silent ghost, a man who had mutilated his own morality just to keep my name on a 'pending' file.

But beneath his memories, there was something else. A dark, oily secret hidden in the corner of his mind.

I tried to reach for it, but the bond slammed shut as Rowan pulled away, his mark glowing a faint, ethereal silver on my skin. The scent of Julian’s "property" was gone. In its place was the overwhelming, unmistakable aroma of an Enforcer’s mate.

"It’s done," Rowan panted, wiping his mouth. He looked stronger, the sedative seemingly burned away by the adrenaline of the bond. "Julian can't track you now. Your scent is mine."

I leaned against him, the world spinning. The bond felt like a heavy, golden chain wrapped around my heart. "What was that? In your head... what were you hiding?"

Rowan’s expression went stone-cold. He stood up, offering me a hand. "We have to move. The Obsidian Peaks are a six-hour trek, and the sun rises in four."

"Rowan, answer me."

He stopped, looking at me over his shoulder. The moonlight caught the silver tattoos on his back, making them writhe like snakes. "You wanted to know why your father sold you, Lyra? It wasn't just to pay a debt. He was part of a project. Julian wasn't the one who created the suppressants."

"Then who did?"

Rowan hesitated, his gaze flickering to the silver mark on my neck, his own mark.

"The Council," he said, the words falling like lead. "They didn't want to erase your line, Lyra. They wanted to harvest it. For twelve years, Julian was just their middleman. But now that you’re pregnant with a True Silver heir, the Council doesn't want you dead anymore."

My breath hitched. "What do they want?"

Rowan stepped closer, his voice a haunting whisper. "They want the child to be their ultimate weapon. And I’m the one who just handed you the right to them."

The "fake" bond suddenly felt very, very real. I looked at the man I had just tied my soul to, realizing the biggest twist of all: Rowan hadn't saved me from the lion's den.

He had just moved me to a bigger cage.

Far off in the distance, a new sound echoed through the Vale. Not dogs, not guards. It was the low, haunting horn of the Council’s High Guard, the "Black-Sails." They weren't coming for an execution. They were coming for their prize.

Rowan grabbed my hand, his grip possessive and tight. "Run," he urged. "And this time, Lyra, don't you dare stop."