"What happens next?" I ask.
"The bonding ritual. Tonight, if you still want this."
"I already said I choose you."
"I needed you to know everything first. The corruption. The risk. What you're signing up for." He turns to face me. "This isn't a fairy tale, Maren. I can't promise we both survive."
"Nobody can promise that." I meet his eyes. "At least this way, if we go down, we go down fighting for something that matters."
Approval radiates through the bond already forming between us. Warm and solid, like sunlight through water.
"The ritual requires blood," he says. "A cut on each palm, hands bound together. Witnessed by family. It's old magic, clan tradition."
"Will it hurt?"
"The cut? A little. The bonding?" He considers. "Calder says it's intense. Like every emotion amplified. You'll feel everything I feel, and I'll feel you. No barriers. No walls."
Total emotional nakedness.
"Okay."
His eyebrows rise. "Just okay?"
"You think I'm scared of intensity?" I shake my head. "Bring it on."
The grin that splits his face transforms him. Younger, lighter, free of the weight he's been carrying.
He shows me around his cabin, explaining how he built it with his brothers' help. Points out places where he's planning expansions when—if—he survives this. Talks about his research with genuine passion.
I tell him about my photography, the wilderness series I've been building along the Pacific Coast. The places that always drew me without understanding why. He listens like it matters.
Dawn starts painting the horizon pink and gold.
"We should head back," he says. "Family will wonder where we are."
We walk back across the compound, his hand finding mine. The connection grounds me even as exhaustion tugs at my edges.
When we approach Calder's cottage, several of his brothers are outside watching us. Eli looks approving. Beau seems amused. Sawyer just looks relieved. Calder himself stands on the porch, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Jonah stops and turns to face me. "You're sure about this?"
"Completely."
He nods once. Then we climb the porch steps.
"Talked?" Calder asks.
"We talked," Jonah confirms. "She knows everything. She's in."
Calder studies me. Testing, maybe, looking for doubt or fear. But my decision is made.
Finally, he nods. "Tonight. Dusk. I'll make the arrangements."
Jonah's hand finds mine, our fingers lacing together. The bond hums between us—nascent, incomplete, but already strong.
"You should both rest," Calder says. "The corruption will fight the bonding. You'll need your strength."
"I'll be fine."
