The Billionaire's Hidden Vows
Weston, too, entered, his expression torn between pride and hunger.
The officiant—one of Magnolia’s pale companions, eyes as empty as glass—held out the knife. Not ornate, but simple, sharp, ancient.
Savannah extended her hand. The blade slid over her palm, and blood welled, rich and crimson. She let it fall into the basin.
Magnolia repeated the gesture, her blood mingling with Savannah’s. Then Weston. The basin shimmered, as though the three streams of life had ignited something unseen.
“Once mixed,” intoned the officiant, “there is no division. The oath is eternal. You will rise and fall together.”
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