Bound by Bloodline

Chapter 7

We didn’t slow down until the city changed.

The noise faded first. The crowd thinned, the streets widening into something cleaner, quieter, controlled in a way the market never was. The air felt different here. Less chaotic. More deliberate.

My territory.

I didn’t stop moving until we crossed the final threshold, until the subtle shift in the environment settled into something familiar enough that my instincts stopped screaming for immediate action.

Only then did I release her hand.

She pulled away instantly.

Of course she did.

“You could have told me where we were going,” she said, turning on me before her breathing had even fully steadied.

I watched her for a second, taking in the way she still held tension in her shoulders, the way her eyes moved quickly over everything around her, mapping exits, distances, possibilities.

She was still ready to run.

Good.

It meant she understood the situation.

“You wouldn’t have come,” I said.

“You didn’t give me a choice.”

“You came anyway.”

Her jaw tightened. “That’s not the same thing.”

I stepped closer without thinking.

She noticed immediately.

Her body went still for half a second before she forced it not to, lifting her chin slightly like she refused to back down.

“You need to stay here,” I said.

Her expression hardened. “No.”

The answer came too fast.

Too certain.

I almost expected it.

“They’re still out there,” I continued, ignoring the refusal for now. “And now they know what they’re looking for.”

“They already knew,” she shot back. “You said that yourself.”

“They suspected,” I corrected. “Now they’re sure.”

“That’s not my problem,” she said, but the edge in her voice wasn’t as sharp this time. It slipped just enough to let something else through.

Fear.

She hated it.

I could tell.

“It is if they find you again.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Then I won’t let them.”

“You don’t get a say in that.”

“There you go again,” she snapped. “Acting like you can just decide everything for me.”

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to hold onto control instead of letting the frustration take over.

“I’m deciding what keeps you alive.”

“I was alive before I met you.”

“Barely.”

The word landed harder than I intended.

She went still.

For a second, something flashed across her face that wasn’t anger.

Then it was gone.

“You don’t know anything about me,” she said.

“I know enough.”

“No, you don’t,” she pushed back immediately. “You saw me once, felt something you don’t understand, and suddenly you think you get to control what I do next.”

I stepped closer again.

This time, she didn’t move back.

Not because she didn’t want to.

Because there wasn’t anywhere left to go.

The wall behind her stopped her before she could.

The bond reacted instantly, tightening the space between us in a way that made it harder to ignore, harder to push aside.

“This isn’t about control,” I said.

“Then what is it?” she demanded.

I held her gaze.

“This is about the fact that the second I let you walk out of here, they’re going to take you.”

Her breath caught.

“Then come with me,” she said quickly. “If you’re so sure they’ll follow, then don’t let me out of your sight.”

I stared at her.

She meant it.

She would rather keep moving, keep running, than stay somewhere she didn’t trust.

Than stay with me.

Something in my chest tightened at that.

“That’s not happening,” I said.

Her eyes flashed. “Why not?”

“Because you don’t know where to go.”

“I’ve been fine on my own.”

“Not anymore.”

The words came out harder than I meant them to.

But I didn’t take them back.

Her silence stretched for a second.

Then, quieter, “And what makes you think I’m safer here?”

I didn’t hesitate.

“Because this is mine.”

Her brows pulled together. “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“It should.”

“Why?”

“Because no one comes here unless I let them.”

The words settled between us.

Heavy.

Certain.

She searched my face, trying to decide if I was serious.

I was.

“And you’d let me stay?” she asked.

It wasn’t sarcastic.

It wasn’t defensive.

It was a real question.

That surprised me more than anything else she had said.

“You don’t have a choice,” I replied.

Her expression shifted immediately. “There it is.”

I almost let out a breath.

“You keep saying that like you expect me to agree with you.”

“I don’t expect you to agree,” I said. “I expect you to understand.”

“I understand that you’re trying to trap me.”

“I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“Same difference.”

“It’s not.”

“It is to me.”

The tension between us tightened again, not from the bond this time, but from something else entirely. Something just as sharp.

Just as real.

I stepped back slightly, giving her space for the first time since we got here.

Not much.

Just enough.

Her shoulders dropped a fraction.

She noticed it.

I noticed her noticing it.

“You can leave,” I said.

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“You can walk out that door right now.”

Her eyes searched mine, like she was waiting for the catch.

There wasn’t one.

“If you do,” I continued, “they’ll find you.”

Her breathing slowed slightly.

Not calm.

Measured.

Calculating.

“And you won’t stop me?”

“No.”

The word came out simple.

Final.

“But I’ll follow you,” I added.

Her lips pressed together.

“And I won’t let them take you.”

Silence settled between us again.

Not empty this time.

Full.

Heavy with everything we weren’t saying.

Her gaze flicked toward the door for half a second.

Then back to me.

“You’re serious,” she said.

“I am.”

She let out a slow breath, running a hand through her hair like she was trying to think, trying to process, trying to find a way out of something that didn’t have one.

Then she looked back at me.

“I don’t trust you.”

“I know.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to stay here.”

I held her gaze.

“I know.”

She studied me for another second.

Then, quieter this time, “But I don’t want them to find me either.”

There it was.

The truth.

I nodded once.

“Then stay.”

She didn’t answer right away.

Her eyes moved around the space again, taking everything in, measuring, deciding.

Then, slowly, she looked back at me.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she said. “I’m not yours. I’m not agreeing to anything.”

The bond pulsed.

I felt it.

So did she.

“I didn’t say you were,” I replied.

She held my gaze.

Like she didn’t believe me.

Like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

“Fine,” she said finally.

One word.

Reluctant.

Careful.

But real.

“I’ll stay.”

Something in my chest settled.

Not completely.

But enough.

“For now,” she added quickly.

I almost smiled.

“Of course.”

Because we both knew that wasn’t how this was going to end.