One second he’s standing there, the next his hand is at the tree, ripping the last dagger free, and then it’s coming down, moving so fast it blurs, the motion fast and brutal. He hits Jackson on the back of the head. The impact lands with a dullthwack.
Jackson drops instantly, his body collapsing forward, face-first into the dirt.
My mouth drops, my eyes round, as I stare stunned at Jackson on the ground.
At first, I think he’s dead, that Carrson’s driven the blade straight into Jackson’s skull. Then Carrson steps back, and I see it. The dagger is reversed in his grip. He used the hilt. Enough force to knock Jackson out cold, but not enough to kill him.
I don’t know if that makes it better. Or worse.
The arm around my throat tightens painfully. I choke, my hands clawing at Jack’s forearm, my feet kicking uselessly against the ground as my body strains for air. He eases his grip by an inch, barely, but it’s enough to drag in a desperate breath.
“That was stupid,” Jack says, his voice flat against my ear, like he’s commenting on something trivial instead of his son lying motionless in the dirt. “But then you’ve always been impulsive, Carrson. Ever since you were a child. Always acting before you think.”
He lets out a quiet laugh, dry and grating, close enough that it vibrates through me. I try to pull away from the sound and can’t.
“Nothing’s changed,” Jack goes on. “My son will wake, and he’ll have her.” He gives me a small, careless shake.
Carrson smiles at that, a look that says he’s already two steps ahead. “Not if I bond her first.”
It’s only because he’s holding me that I feel it, the change in Jack’s body, the momentary stiffness that betrays him.
His voice doesn’t. “You can’t,” he says calmly. “You don’t have a father to perform the ceremony. You killed yours, remember?” He lets out a small, humorless laugh. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for that. It made my lifesomuch easier.”
“You’re right. I don’t have a father.” Carrson shrugs. “Guess you’ll have to do.”
Jack laughs for real this time, the sound lifting his chest against my back. “I won’t help you.”
“Really?” Carrson raises a single eyebrow. He drops to his knee, next to Jackson’s unmoving form. His knife goes to Jackson’s neck, over his carotid. “Not even to save your son?”
The arm around my throat is still tight, still stealing my air, but it’s no longer careless. Before, Jack held me without thought, easy to use and then discard.
That’s gone.
Now his grip shifts, loosening just enough to let me breathe. Oxygen rushes back into my lungs and, with it, clarity. I see it then. Carrson’s brilliance. He hasn’t just knocked out Jackson; he's rewritten the board.
The math is now brutally simple.
If Jack kills me, his son dies.
If Jack lets me go, he’s outnumbered. Carrson and I join forces. Together, we can overpower him.
Carrson’s got Jack backed into the corner.
I grin. For the first time since he entered the clearing, Carrson’s eyes dart to mine. It’s only a split second, but it’s all we need. I know just from that glance. I can see it. The exact moment Carrson planned this, the move behind the move, the outcome he’s already counting on.
We’re not guessing. We’re not reacting. We’re thinking in perfect unison. As a team.
Power surges through me, chasing away the last of the fear. I’m not a victim waiting for a rescue. I’m a weapon waiting for the signal to unleash.
The grip on my throat is still there, but the leverage is gone. Jack hesitates, his mind racing to find a third option that doesn't exist.
Carrson holds out his hand, sticks it high in the air, his other hand keeps the knife steady on Jackson.
“Bond us,” he commands Jack. “Now. Or your son dies.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” says Jack, but there’s a slight waver to his words, as if he’s not completelyconfident.
“Who knows what I’ll do?” says Carrson. “You said it yourself. I’m impulsive. I murdered my own father. You think I’ll hesitate to kill Jackson too? I don’t even like him.”
