Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
VIVIENNE HAWTHORNE
T he night shatters around us.
The air is thick with magic—dark, pulsing, suffocating—and I can feel the weight of it pressing down on my skin, creeping into my bones. Orion is in front of me, his blade clashing against Kieran’s, the sparks from their fight illuminating the twisted trees around us.
I can’t breathe.
I should be stronger. I should be fighting.
But I can feel the difference between me and them—the raw power Kieran wields, the lethal precision in the way Orion moves, the sharp hunger of the warlocks circling us. I’m not ready for this.
But I have no choice.
I force my magic outward, desperate to help Orion, to do something, but Kieran snuffs it out effortlessly, like he's been trained to counter me before I even existed.
A hand grabs my arm, yanking me backward.
I scream, twisting, clawing, kicking at my attacker. He’s strong, but I’m desperate. I slam my elbow into his ribs, and he stumbles—but his grip doesn’t loosen.
"You're a fighter," the warlock sneers. "Too bad it won’t matter."
A sharp pulse of power erupts from my skin, a wild, uncontrolled force that throws him backward. He hits the ground hard, but before I can even think of running, another warlock steps in front of me.
Kieran’s second-in-command. Amon.
He doesn’t hesitate.
His hand lifts, and suddenly, my body locks up.
I can’t move. Can’t breathe.
Panic grips me as I struggle against the force holding me in place. It’s like being submerged in deep water, my own body turning against me.
Amon smirks. "Pathetic. They told us to expect more from you."
Orion’s roar shakes the trees.
The moment he sees me trapped, something inside him snaps.
He moves faster than I can process, his blade slicing clean through Amon’s spell. The pressure on my chest vanishes, and I collapse to my knees, gasping for air.
Amon stumbles backward, his smirk gone, replaced by something close to fear.
Orion doesn’t stop.
He’s on him in seconds, his blade cutting, tearing, breaking. There’s a rawness to the way Orion fights now—primal, unhinged. This isn’t just battle. This is war.
This is his claim.
Kieran curses, stepping forward, but before he can join the fight, Orion throws out his hand—and something shifts.
A pulse of power, not just his.
Ours.
It slams through the clearing like a shockwave, sending Kieran staggering back and knocking the other warlocks to their knees.
My mouth parts in shock. I feel it, too.
Orion’s power. My power.
It’s merging.
The bond between us, the mark on my wrist—it’s not just symbolic. It’s real. It’s alive.
Kieran looks between us, his silver eyes wide with genuine fear.
"You bound her?" His voice is sharp, disbelieving. "You actually?—"
Orion lunges before he can finish.
I don’t think.
I move.
I reach for Orion, our magic colliding, fusing, bleeding together in a way that makes my bones hum.
He doesn’t push me away.
He pulls me in.
Our combined energy erupts outward, turning the entire clearing into a storm of light and darkness.
The warlocks reel, scrambling, retreating.
Even Kieran steps back.
I grasp Orion’s arm, and the second our fingers connect, the bond between us tightens, strengthens, solidifies.
A true merging of souls.
And I know, without a doubt, that this—this—is something the Order will never allow to exist.
"We have to go," I whisper, my voice hoarse.
Orion doesn’t move at first. He’s still locked on Kieran, his chest heaving, his muscles coiled, his hand tight on his sword.
But I know what he’s thinking.
He wants to kill him.
Kieran knows it, too. But he only smirks, that infuriating, arrogant smirk.
“You think you can run?” Kieran wipes the blood from his lip, smearing it across his jaw. “You think the Order won’t hunt you to the ends of the earth for this?”
Orion’s grip tightens on his blade.
I step in front of him, pressing my palm against his chest. "No," I whisper. "Not like this."
His eyes burn into mine, the war still raging inside him.
But I see something else there, too.
Fear.
Not for himself. For me.
For us.
He exhales sharply, his free hand coming up to grip the back of my neck, his forehead pressing to mine.
I close my eyes, my heart pounding.
Then—he grabs my wrist, and we run.
We don’t look back.
We don’t stop.
The forest swallows us whole, the magic between us thundering like a second heartbeat.
We are bound.
We are hunted.
And we are never going back.