My pulse hammers. I back up a step.
He follows. “You think you’re special?” His voice hardens. “You’re just another Rot?—”
Then a hand lands on my shoulder. Firm. Familiar.
Sting.
He doesn’t speak to Jax at first. Just stares, cold, unblinking.
Jax’s bravado falters.
Sting’s voice is low. “Walk away.”
Jax hesitates, then smirks. “Just talking. Making friends.”
Sting’s grip tightens on my shoulder. “Don’t talk to her. Don’t look at her. Ever.”
Jax raises his hands, backs off. “Message received.” He turns and disappears into the crowd.
Sting doesn’t let go until Jax is gone. Then he looks at me—eyes dark, voice rough. “What are you doing here?”
“Breathing,” I say.
“Breathe somewhere else.” He releases my shoulder but doesn’t step back. “You don’t come to the neutral zone alone. Ever. You understand?”
I swallow. “Yes.”
“Good.” He turns, waits for me to follow.
I glance back at the girl. She’s already crouched over her crate again, hands moving mechanically through supplies. Bound. Just like me. But not protected. Not claimed by anyone powerful enough to make others back off. Just... stuck.
I follow Sting out of the food court, back through the corridors, back toward my room. He doesn’t speak until we reach my curtain door.
“You can’t wander anymore,” he says. Voice quieter now. “Being bound means you’re ours. But other crews will test it. Push boundaries. See how far they can go before we react.”
“And if they push too far?”
“Then we remind them why binding matters.”
I swallow. “By hurting them.”
“By making examples.”
The words sit heavy between us.
I pull the curtain aside, step into my room. He doesn’t follow.
“Vi,” he says.
I look back.
“You’re safe,” he says. “As long as you stay close.”
“And if I don’t want to?”
His eyes darken. “You don’t get that choice anymore.” Then he’s gone.
I step inside, let the curtain fall closed, and sink onto the edge of the bed. The binding is real. The protection is real.
