Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
CADEN
Emma’s eyes widened for the barest second as realization hit her. But the lawyer in her didn’t fold. She tilted her chin, forced a shrug that looked almost careless. “I spoke too quickly. I meant I won’t be forced into any True Bond with James or anyone else.”
Quick thinking. But a weaker excuse than I would’ve liked.
The High Chief’s studied her with a sharpness that promised he wasn’t fooled.
I forced my jaw to relax. “If Emma doesn’t want the bond, there’s nothing you can do, since forcing her into it would amount to mind-rape.”
“Of course not.” The High Chief’s smile was nearly vicious. “No one is forcing her into anything. But if she values her life—and the lives of everyone else connected to her—I suspect she’ll consider her choices, and the cost of refusal.”
He held up his hand when James wanted to respond. “And before you make any heroic declarations, if you do not comply with our request, we will respond accordingly.”
“So it’s bonding to James to ensure a genetically superior baby who saves your ass in the future, or the death of all my loved ones,” Emma said, her voice suspiciously calm.
The High Chief’s expression was carefully blank. “I wouldn’t phrase it quite so crudely.”
Emma fucking smiled back. “Lucky for you, I’m fluent in ‘crude.’”
The High Chief’s mouth curled. “Careful, Miss Thompson. There are consequences for disrespecting the United Chiefs.”
“Careful, mister unelected president,” Emma mimicked sweetly, “there are consequences for underestimating me.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Gods, I loved it when she was fearless.
The High Chief’s brows arched in mock surprise. “Well, gentlemen, it seems you haven’t educated Ms. Thompson on how the Chiefs operate.”
He rose to his feet with a calmness that was more threatening than any raised blade could have been, tugging the lapels of his jacket into place. “Seems a little demonstration is necessary.”
Without a warning, he might’ve been too fast for me, but the idiot was cocky, and I was a hell of a lot more powerful than he’d anticipated.
His invisible haze almost slammed into me, a wall of heat and pressure, but my own was already there to meet it, the clash between them sparking across the room in a shudder that rattled the stone walls.
His translation burned against mine, searing my skin, trying to rip through the shield I’d built, but years of drills and cycles of brutal training made my counters flow instinctively.
It was almost easy—too easy—my strength cutting into his until I felt the give, the slight tremor that said I was winning.
My attention flicked to Emma. She stood taut in the haze-choked air, strands of her hair whipping around her face, as she looked…amused.
“Very impressive,” she said, her voice dry, the sarcasm landing hard enough to piss off the High Chief.
It should’ve been a warning. A signal to keep my focus.
But like a fool, I let myself get distracted, too wrapped up in the thrill of showing her I could hold my own against him, too hungry for a flicker of approval from the woman I ached for.
That’s when I saw it, too late.
The Corona.
One of the United Chiefs’ inventions, their favorite toy for keeping magi in line.
It shimmered into view, dark metal catching the yellow light.
A thin circlet edged as a blade, every inch of it designed for blood.
Rune-like marks crawled along its surface, glowing faintly as though feeding on my energy, as though hungry for it.
It sliced through the air in a perfect arc, too fast for the eye to follow, and then it found me, biting across my stomach, the edge cutting deep enough to sear like fire.
Pain flared white-hot.
Flesh split open with a wet sound, warm blood spilling down my abdomen in rivulets that soaked instantly into my shirt. My knees threatened to give as the metallic tang hit my tongue, copper and bile thick in the air, and the chamber seemed to shrink as I fought to hold my ground.
James muttered a low curse and Emma’s eyes widened with the kind of fear that told me this wasn’t just a demonstration anymore.
Without hesitation she stepped in front of me, her body a shield, and the Chief’s haze recoiled like smoke pulled back by a sudden wind.
Thank fuck he needed her alive.
“What the hell is your problem?” she yelled, her voice breaking in all the right places, fury barely held together, but I knew her.
Her reaction was no more than a carefully crafted act.
And I was right, because as she stood between us, her left hand slid back, her fingers brushed my side, and I felt the hot rush of her golden energy pouring into me.
It lit me up from the inside, fire giving way to relief, the pain ripped clean out of me in an instant.
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to move, not to betray the healing.
The High Chief only shrugged, smug bastard, and luckily oblivious to what she’d done. “Only showing you what it would mean to refuse me.”
He straightened his spine. “Now, let’s get on with it, shall we? Mister Walker is standing right here, and your marriage would be witnessed by the High Chief himself. I’d say that’s an honor few ever receive.”
The words sliced sharper than his Corona. My head snapped up, rage choking the air from my lungs.
“You want her to bond with him right now?” I hissed. I didn’t have to fake the anguish no more, the thought of it alone brought me to my knees.
“You can’t force her to choose me,” James growled, finally speaking up.
“I think I’ve made it clear what would happen if she doesn’t.”
Emma stilled. With her back to me, I couldn’t read her face, and the silence stretched until I thought I might lose my mind.
“You’re not going to kill Caden Colt,” she said finally, each word hard, and certain.
The High Chief’s mouth curled, wolfish. “You must’ve misinterpreted my actions.”
“You didn’t cut him in a deadly way.”
“Yet.”
She shook her head, keeping her spine rigid. “He’s First Offensive of Crown, in alliance with Cyclos and Slava. You kill him, the two largest Collectives in the world and Petru Stoyan become your enemies. Not to mention—if you’re wrong—you’ll be responsible for wiping our savior out of existence.”
The High Chief seemed to consider this for a second. “You might be right,” he said at last, his tone almost amused. “Luckily, there are enough people you care about.”
As if summoned by those words, the heavy doors slammed open, the sound hitting like a death knell, and a dozen Chiefs filed in, dragging Sean in between them.
Bloodied, battered, but still alive, jaw locked in that stubborn tilt that said he’d rather choke on his own blood than bow.
I heard Emma’s inhale beside me, the way her presence vibrated with disbelief that curdled instantly into something akin to fear.
My head lifted and I met my brother’s gaze, saw the streak of red down his cheek, the way his knees buckled but didn’t give, and something inside me went perfectly still.
Not rage. Not panic. Just cold clarity.
I turned back to the High Chief, every muscle in my body strung tight with precision. “Big mistake.”
Then I let my haze go again. Not wild, not messy, but methodical, a blade drawn from its sheath. It ripped out of me in an invisible wave, wrapping the space in the kind of silence that promised blood.
Three Chiefs stepped forward, meeting mine head-on, power colliding so hard the floor shuddered, the walls groaning under the pressure. For a breath, I held, forcing mine against theirs, driving into the choke with every ounce of control I had.
But three against one was a grindstone. They pressed down, smothering, neutralizing, their combined haze pouring into me until my lungs seized and my teeth clenched against the weight.
“You can’t win, mister Colt,” the High Chief said softly. “Your third cycle haze is impressive but no match for our numbers.”
A fourth and a fifth stepped out, unleashing translation so thick when it met mine the impact rang through my bones like an earthquake.
My haze buckled, crushed flat, and was shoved back into me until my lungs seized and my body locked.
And the worst part? The remaining Chiefs didn’t even slow. They kept dragging Sean forward as if my outburst hadn’t mattered, as if I’d been nothing more than a dog snapping its teeth before the leash yanked tight.
“You see, Ms. Thompson,” the High Chief continued, spreading his hands as though unveiling a gift, “Unlike the Board, who foolishly tried to dress themselves in ethics and rules, we suffer no such hiccups.”
He glanced briefly at Emma as though she were no more than a piece on a board. “Considering that, depending on which one of these men you choose, the whole of the Magi World either survives or is wiped out, we feel rather justified in our actions.”
Emma charged forward but James caught her by the arm and yanked her back. “Don’t be an idiot,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
A Chief fisted Sean’s hair and wrenched his head back, exposing the vulnerable column of his throat. Another drove a knee into his gut with such force the crack of ribs echoed.
Sean gagged on the scream, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth as he doubled over, only to be yanked upright again. His skull smashed against the stone wall with a sickening thud, leaving a dark smear of red as he sagged forward.
I tried to move but with a lazy flick of the High Chief’s wrist, the air around me thickened, hardening into a coil of translation that clamped down on my throat.
My breath seized, every gasp scraping like glass, the pressure building until black spots edged my vision.
Across from me, James slammed back into his chair as invisible bindings locked his arms and chest in place, his jaw straining against the force.
Then, one of the Chiefs translated his Corona, the weapon humming as it materialized in his hand, and pressed the blade to Sean’s throat. A thin line of crimson welled instantly, trickling down over his collarbone.