Victor paid with silver coins that left his fingers smoking slightly. The driver counted them twice, nodded, and pulled away without another word.
The hotel suite was obscene. Spider silk sheets. A claw-foot tub large enough for two. A balcony overlooking the lower districts, where lights flickered against the red-black sky.
Food had appeared on the table without anyone ordering. Dumplings that smelled exactly like her mother’s kitchen. Tea in cups so thin the liquid glowed through them.
“The hotel reads desires,” Victor explained when she stared at the food. “Gives guests what they want most.”
What she wanted most was her mother’s cooking. The thought made her chest ache.
Ava stood at the window, watching Hell’s skyline. The chains pulsed steadily beneath her skin: a heartbeat that wasn’t her own. Somewhere out there, Marchosias waited. She could feel him now, a pressure at the edge of her awareness. A hook behind her sternum, pulling gently.
Victor crossed to her, his reflection appearing in the dark glass beside hers.
“How long before it’s permanent?” she asked.
“Hours. The court convenes at midnight.” He was watching her reflection rather than her face. “If we don’t contest the substitution before he formally accepts it…”
“Then I’m his forever.”
“Yes.”
She turned to face him. The face she’d memorized over weeks that felt like years. Sharp jaw. Dark eyes. The mouth that could be cruel or tender.
“We might not make it back,” she said.
“I know.”
“This might be our last night.”
“I know.”
She pulled him down into a kiss.
They moved to the bed, desperate and tender by turns. Victor’s hands traced the golden chains beneath her skin, mapping the patterns like he was memorizing what had been done to her. Every touch felt like a declaration. Every breath shared felt like defiance. Ava pressed closer, needing to feelhistouch, needing to remind her body who she’d chosen first.
The marks above their hearts burned warm, blue and silver, pulsing in sync, fighting against the gold for dominance. Where Victor touched her, the chains seemed to dim slightly, like shadows retreating from light. It wouldn’t last. The gold wouldreturn the moment he pulled away. But for now, in this moment, she belonged to him more than she belonged to Marchosias.
Outside the window, Hell’s red sky cast everything in shades of fire and shadow. The chains glowed brighter with every touch, responding to the emotion, to the defiance. Neither of them cared.
Afterward, they lay tangled together, Victor’s arms around her claimed form, the silk sheets pooled around them. The chains pulsed steadily against his chest, but he didn’t pull away. Held her tighter instead, like he could protect her from what was coming through proximity alone.
“I saw you.” She traced a finger along his collarbone. “On the crossing. What you really are.”
His arms tightened slightly. “And?”
“And I’m still here.”
He didn’t respond. Just pressed his lips to her hair and held her closer.
They dressed in silence. The chains had grown brighter during their time together, responding to emotion, to proximity, to the approaching deadline. They pulsed in steady rhythm now, counting down toward something she couldn’t see but could feel getting closer.
Lilith found them as they were leaving.
She didn’t knock. Just appeared in the doorway. Not a flash of crimson, not dramatic magic. She’d been waiting in the hall. Her dress was wrinkled. Her hair was less perfect than usual. She looked like someone who’d traveled a long way very quickly.
“You’re supposed to be in Tokyo,” Victor said.
“I was.” Lilith’s smile was sharp, but her eyes were wrong, too bright, too focused. “I turned around over the Pacific. Couldn’t stop thinking about it. About her.” Her gaze fixed on Ava with uncomfortable intensity. “When I realized what you’d done, thatyou’d actually gone through with the substitution, I had to see it for myself.”
