I do as he says. I don’t let my expression change even as the cold edge of the blade separates my flesh with terrifying ease. I wrap my hand around the dagger and around Carrson’s hand on the other side, lockingus together.
Staring straight into Carrson’s eyes, I tighten my grip and squeeze.
The blade slices deep. The pain burns, biting so far into my palm I’m sure it’ll hit bone. Carrson doesn't flinch. He matches my force, his fingers pushing down on mine, grinding our wounds together against the steel. Sealing it with blood.
Then he speaks.
“I, Carrson Ashford, under the laws of The Order, bond you, Rebecca Dawson. In blood and will, I claim you as mine, bound to my name, my house, and my purpose. Your strength is mine. My power and protection are yours to bear. From this moment forward, we stand as one, unbroken, unchallenged, and unending.”
Our blood flows faster now. Mine indistinguishable from his. It drips to the ground between our knees in a steady patter.
“I, Rebecca Dawson, under the laws of The Order, bond you, Carrson Ashford. In blood and will, I claim you as mine. I take your house and your purpose as my own. My strength is yours. I accept your power and protection in return. From this moment forward, we stand as one, unbroken, unchallenged, and unending.”
Carrson keeps his eyes fixed on mine, his gaze anchoring me through the agony.
The air in the clearing feels alive, heavy with the scent of copper and the damp earth.
“Now,” Jack whispers, with an air of grim satisfaction.
Using a sudden, violent motion, he jerks the blade from between our palms, a stinging cut that makes me gasp. I don’t let it go. Before the air can hit the open wounds, I slam my palm against Carrson’s.
Our blood mingles, hot and slick.
Carrson’s fingers lace through mine, his grip bruising, as if he’s trying to fuse our skin together. The transformation is complete. I can feel the shift in the atmosphere, the way the world settles into a new, darker shape.
I’m no longer Rebecca Dawson, the girl looking for a home.
I am the other half of Carrson Ashford.
I am a member of The Order.
Carrson lets out a slow breath, his eyes dropping to our joined hands before snapping back to Jack.
His gaze flicks to me, to the knife at Jackson’s neck and then to the one in Jack’s hand.
I nod to let him know I understand.
Jack’s not looking at us. He’s looking at his son, so he doesn’t see how Carrson throws the knife he was holding up in the air, just enough for me to move my hand below his. The perfect position to catch it mid-fall and put it back to Jackson’s neck. Meanwhile, Carrson rises and in the same motion snatches the bonding knife from Jack’s hand. That knife goes to Jack’s neck.
Now they’re mirrors.
Father and son. Both held under our daggers.
“It’s done,” Carrson tells Jack, his voice low and lethal. “Now, take your son and get out.”
Color floods Jack’s face, a mottled angry red that creeps up his neck. Without taking his eyes off us, he reaches down and grabs Jackson by the collar. Hunched over, he drags his son’s limp body away.
When he reaches the edge of the clearing, Jack turns back. “You think you won,” he calls out, his eyes on Carrson. “Just remember, The Order doesn’t reward love. It rewards survival.”
Then he’s gone. The sound of Jackson’s sneakered feet dragging over the ground slowly fades.
***
Carrson doesn’t move until the forest goes quiet. Only then does the tension leave his shoulders. He turns to me, his hand still locked in mine, our blood drying into a dark, permanent seal.
I break it. Let go of his hand and step back.
My gaze falls to our feet and the space between them. “How’d you know I’d be here?”
