Page 83

Rippling across the membrane walls, the translucent tissue revealed the suspended bodies turning toward us in unison, their eyes opening, their mouths forming words I couldn’t hear.

Behind the chair, a figure stepped forward.

Evangeline Vale. Or what was left of her.

Like a marionette, the Entity wore her body: her emerald dress, her silver hair combs, her aristocratic features, but the movements were wrong, too smooth, too deliberate. Her eyes were solid black, and when she smiled, the expression didn’t reach the rest of her face.

“Welcome to the beginning,” the Entity said through Evangeline’s mouth. “This is where I was born. Where your aunt gave me form. Where every contract since has been written into flesh and witnessed by hunger.”

“Let my sister go,” I said.

“I will. Once you take her place.”

“No deal.”

Evangeline’s head tilted at an odd angle as the Entity studied me. “You don’t understand the terms. Dahlia accepted this role to protect you. If she is released without a replacement, the contract collapses. The House collapses. Everyone inside dies. Including her.”

“Bullshit," Rook said flatly, his voice muffled by the Hound mask. “The House survived before Dahlia. It’ll survive after.”

“The House survived because Evangeline anchored it. When she was consumed, the contract required a new anchor from her bloodline. Dahlia volunteered. Without her, the entity loses its form. Without form, it cannot feed. Without feeding, it turns on itself and devours everything it has preserved.”

Stepping forward, Khaos fixed his gaze on the black threads. “You’re saying the anchor is structural. Not just symbolic.”

“The anchor is everything. The witness. The vessel. The living proof that the contract is real.” Moving Evangeline’s body closer, the Entity released a smell of stage makeup, old perfume, and something underneath that made my throat close. “Zinnia Vale. Last heir of the first vessel. You will take your sister’s place, or you will watch her die.”

“I’ll take her place,” I said immediately.

“Zinnia, don’t,” Dahlia’s voice cracked, but I ignored her.

“I’ll take her place. I’ll anchor your contract. I’ll be your witness. But I won’t agree to your terms. I’m writing my own.”

Pausing, the Entity went still.

The membrane walls stopped breathing. The suspended bodies went still. Even the black threads binding Dahlia seemed to freeze mid-pulse.

“Explain,” the Entity said.

“You want a living anchor from Evangeline’s bloodline. So be it. You want someone to carry your contract. Fine. But I’m not agreeing to let you own me. I’m giving myself to you as a gift. And gifts can’t be controlled.”

The Entity’s black eyes widened, revealing conflicting emotions: confusion, maybe, or hunger.

“The heir offers herself freely. The gift cannot be refused. But the gift cannot be owned.”

“Exactly.”

“The heir does not understand what she is offering.”

“I understand perfectly.” Meeting Dahlia’s gaze, I let her see what I was planning. “You want me? You can have me. But you’re getting me on my terms, not yours. And my first term is that you release my sister. Now.”

The black threads that glowed around Dahlia’s wrists intensified.

“Zinnia, no,” Dahlia tried to pull against the restraints, but the threads tightened, cutting deeper into her skin until blood welled beneath the bindings. “You have no idea what you’re agreeing to. The Entity doesn’t just want a witness. It wants to erase you. It wants to turn you into the House.”

“I know.”

“Then why⁠—”

“Because you’re my sister. And I’m not leaving you here.”