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“I can’t lose you again.”
“You aren’t losing me,” I whispered, blinking back the burning in my eyes. “You’re letting me make my own choice. There’s a difference.”
“Zinnia—”
“I love you,” I said, the truth cutting through the anger and the grief that had defined us. “I love you, and I hate what we became, but I am not letting you die to balance my ledger. I am not letting this parasite turn your guilt into another cage.”
Tears tracked through the soot on his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he breathed.
“I know.” Pressing his hand against my chest, over the violent rhythm of my heart, I held it there for one brief second. “Now let me finish it.”
Before he could pull away, I stepped in and kissed him, crashing my mouth against his with everything left inside me—our fury, our shared history, and the fierce, unyielding bond we had forged in the dark.
Breaking the kiss, I turned and walked straight to Dahlia’s.
The air grew suffocatingly dense as the Entity’s presence closed around me like iron. Dahlia gasped, her head rolling back as her real voice broke through the binding threads, hoarse and frantic.
“Zinnia, don’t,” she pleaded, tears cutting through the grime on her pale face. “Don’t trade yourself for me.”
“I’m not trading myself for you,” I said softly, dropping to one knee and clasping her cold, trembling fingers. “I’m ending the contract so neither of us has to run anymore.”
“You’ll die.”
“I’ve survived dying before.”
“And the others?”
“They walk out.”
Dahlia’s dark eyes flooded with grief. “I’m sorry. I should have protected you from this place.”
“You did,” I told her, squeezing her hand firmly. “Now it’s my turn.”
A deafening roar split the chamber as the Entity raised Evangeline’s arms.
“The heir has spoken. The terms are accepted. The transfer begins.”
Black flames erupted from the floorboards, encircling the dais in an impenetrable wall of heatless fire. The stone beneath my knees fractured, and a wave of freezing, invasive power slammed into my chest, flooding my veins, my lungs, and my marrow with crushing force.
Behind me, Malachi’s scream tore through the roar of collapsing stone.
I tried to turn my head to look at him, but the pressure locked my spine rigid. Agony tore through my nervous system as my capillaries ruptured, blood spilling from my nose, my mouth, and the corners of my eyes.
“The transfer is complete,” the Entity’s voice thundered through the stone. “The heir becomes the vessel. The House endures.”
“No,” Dahlia’s voice cut through the din, sharp and defiant. “That isn’t what she agreed to.”
The crushing pressure paused for a fraction of a second.
“The heir offered herself freely,” the Entity countered.
“She offered a conditional sacrifice, not an open title,” Khaos interjected, stepping to the edge of the flames, his cracked silver mask discarded. “She agreed to be the final offering to settle the ledger. She never consented to becoming your vessel, and without consent to ownership, your function cannot bind her.”
“There is no legal distinction,” the Entity hissed.
“There is,” Rook growled, stepping beside Khaos and raising his iron cleaver toward the dais. “A vessel is property. A sacrifice is a gift. And the House’s own charter forbids you from owning what is freely surrendered.”
The black flames flickered, their heatless light dimming against the stone.
