Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
ORION VOSS
V ivienne sleeps beside me, her breath soft and even, her body still wrapped around mine like she was made to fit here. Like she belongs.
She does.
The mark on my wrist glows faintly in the dim cave light, its twin etched onto her skin. I trace it absentmindedly, feeling the connection between us pulsing, alive. I bound us together. I didn’t mean to. Didn’t even know it was possible.
But it happened.
And now the Order will come.
I feel the shift in the air first—a ripple in the magic around us, a disturbance that crawls over my skin like icy fingers. The hair on my arms rises, and my jaw tightens.
They know.
I sit up, careful not to wake Vivienne, but my sudden absence makes her stir. She blinks up at me, still caught in the haze of sleep, her body curling toward my warmth even as I pull away.
“Orion?” Her voice is soft, but the concern is there.
I don’t answer right away. I stand, listening. Waiting.
There—another shift, more distinct this time.
A signature of power—dark, hungry, moving toward us.
“Get up,” I say, sharper than I intend.
Vivienne frowns but obeys, pushing herself up onto her elbows. She’s still flushed from sleep, her bare skin catching the glow of the dying embers in the cave. The sight of her—my mark on her, my scent on her—would have made me hard again if not for the reality crashing down around us.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, already reaching for her clothes.
I don’t sugarcoat it. There’s no time.
“They know,” I say. “The Order knows something happened.”
She stills, her fingers frozen over the fabric of her dress. “How?”
I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair. “The bond. It’s too strong. I can feel you like you’re a part of me, and if I can, then so can they.”
Her throat works as she swallows, realization flickering behind her dark eyes. She looks down at her wrist, running her fingers over the mark. “We need to go.”
I nod. “Now.”
She moves fast, pulling on her dress, lacing it up with shaking fingers. I reach for my weapons, strapping a blade to my thigh, securing the leather bracers at my wrists. Fighting other warlocks can sometimes mean a loss of power if they know the right spells. Not every warlock puts the time and effort into learning bladework. I'm not every warlock.
Every second that passes, I feel them closer.
She’s at my side in an instant. “Where do we go?”
I take her hand, because I can’t not touch her, because even with danger pressing in, I need to ground myself in her warmth.
“South,” I say. “There’s a safehouse—someone I know.”
Vivienne hesitates. “Someone you trust?”
I almost laugh. Trust? There is no trust in the Order’s world. Only survival.
“Someone who hates the Order more than they hate me,” I settle on. “That’ll have to be enough.”
She exhales sharply, nodding. “Then let’s move.”
We slip out of the cave and into the forest, the night pressing in around us like a second skin. Vivienne stays close, her breathing steady, her steps silent despite the damp earth beneath her boots.
She’s always been a fighter, even if she doesn’t see it yet.
But they’re coming.
I can feel it now—more than one. The weight of their power claws through the night, creeping through the trees like a storm on the horizon. Too close.
We’re running before I even give the order, our bodies moving as one, slipping through the underbrush, darting between twisted roots and low-hanging branches.
Then—a crack.
Vivienne gasps as the air behind us explodes—a surge of dark magic aimed where we’d been standing just seconds ago.
The forest erupts with movement. They’re here.
I grab Vivienne’s hand and yank her down as another pulse of power rips past us, burning through the trees, sending embers scattering into the air.
Three warlocks emerge from the shadows.
One of them is Kieran Vale.
My stomach turns to iron.
Kieran is a hunter like me, but he never hesitates. Never questions. He is what the Order wants all of us to be—merciless.
His eyes flicker to Vivienne, calculating. His lips curve into a knowing smirk.
“Well, well,” he drawls. “Look at you, Orion. The Order said you were taking too long. Guess we know why now.”
Vivienne tenses beside me. I step in front of her.
“Walk away,” I tell Kieran. My voice is calm. A lie.
He laughs. “That’s cute.” He gestures lazily. “You know the rules. The girl comes with us. And if you put up a fight…” His smirk sharpens. “We drag your corpse back instead.”
Vivienne reacts before I do.
She raises her hand, magic surging to life, wild and uncontrolled. She sends a blast toward Kieran, but he cuts through it effortlessly, swatting it away like it’s nothing more than an inconvenience.
She gasps, stumbling.
Too weak. Too untrained.
Kieran sighs dramatically. “Oh, sweetheart. That’s just embarrassing.”
Rage boils in me.
I move fast—too fast for them to stop me. I grab Vivienne and shove her behind me as I lunge for Kieran, my blade flashing.
He barely manages to block me in time.
Our weapons clash, sparks flying.
“You should have stayed loyal,” Kieran snarls, pushing back hard. “You could have had anything.”
I bare my teeth. “I already have everything I need.”
I shove hard, sending him skidding back.
But the others are moving now, closing in.
We’re outnumbered. They're surrounding her, and she's fighting back with everything she's got, but it's not enough. They claw at her, and something inside of me breaks. I unleash a fury of swipes with my blade against them, pressing them back, but it's not enough. And then, I feel something powerful surge through the bond.
She gasps.
I do too.
Our magic twists together, fusing, strengthening.
Kieran’s face goes pale.
“Oh, shit,” he breathes. “You actually?—”
I don’t let him finish.
I strike.
The bond between Vivienne and me shifts, solidifies, strengthens, and I feel her power become my own.
The air around us crackles.
Kieran’s eyes widen. He’s afraid.
He should be.
Because this time, we’re not running.
We’re fighting.