Page 17

DOMINIC

H azel showed up like a ghost—one moment, she wasn’t there, and the next, she was standing by the crooked sign outside Twyla’s diner, cloak dusted in ash and the wind carrying the scent of old magic and charred herbs in her wake.

She looked older. Tired. Like whatever she’d been doing had clawed a piece of her away.

Dominic’s pulse kicked up.

He’d spotted her the second she stepped into the square, and instinct flared sharp in his gut.

Answers. Finally. But when he turned to call for Lillith, she was already deep in conversation with Twyla under the eaves of the shop.

Twyla was talking in that hushed, conspiratorial voice she used when something juicy had just gone down—Dominic caught the words “storm night” and “accidental soul-bond” before Lillith groaned and rubbed her temples like she had a headache made entirely of social embarrassment.

He didn’t interrupt.

Instead, he moved—fast and silent like only a predator could—and cut Hazel off in the diner’s lot. Arms crossed, jaw locked, every line of his body humming with the restraint it took not to shake her by the shoulders.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Hazel blinked once, then gave him a look that could’ve curdled milk. “Hello to you too, Dominic Kane.”

“You vanished,” he growled. “Twyla didn’t know. Lillith thought something happened. And oh, right, I got cursed by a fae prince and nearly mauled by shadow magic while you were off—what? Brewing tea with forest spirits?”

Hazel exhaled, slow and deep, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Always so dramatic.”

From behind him, still within the thirty-foot radius that cursed their lives, he could hear Lillith’s laugh hitch, sharp and awkward. Twyla’s voice was still murmuring, but Lillith’s gaze had flicked toward them—watchful, wary, ready.

He was fine. For now.

“I was following the disturbance,” Hazel said, leveling a steady gaze at him. “Tracking the rift. It wasn’t random, Dominic. That storm? That shadow beast? The forest practically bled magic.”

His shoulders tensed. “So you knew something was coming.”

“I suspected,” she said, softer now. “But I didn’t know the curse would touch you.”

“Well,” he snapped, “it did. Right in the chest. Along with her.” He jerked his chin in Lillith’s direction.

Hazel’s eyes followed the motion and lingered too long. Her lips curved—not into a smirk, not quite a smile. Something sadder. Older. Like regret and wisdom had learned how to wear the same face.

“You’re lucky it did,” she murmured.

Dominic’s brow furrowed. “How do you figure?”

“Because,” Hazel said, stepping closer, her voice lowering to a hush, “if the curse had hit anyone else—anyone who didn’t already have a sliver of their soul tangled with yours—it would’ve been fatal.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Lillith,” Hazel said simply. “She’s the reason you survived.”

Behind him, he heard Lillith move—just a half-step. Just enough. The bond tugged faintly, like a whisper brushing the edge of his awareness. A soft gasp followed, barely audible.

Hazel kept going. “The bond didn’t form from nothing. Her magic… it recognized yours. Even in chaos. The prince didn’t make something new. He twisted what was already growing between you two.”

Dominic stared, disbelief crumbling into something deeper. Something raw.

“So what—this was fate?”

Hazel’s expression darkened. “I’m saying it was real. Long before either of you wanted to admit it. And as stubborn as you two are, this was the only way it was ever going to happen. My guess? Thaloryn was hoping it’d kill you.”

Dominic looked down at his hands—scarred, steady, but trembling now. The weight of it all pressed against his spine. This wasn’t just about being cursed. This wasn’t just some magical inconvenience.

This was survival tangled with destiny.

He hadn’t let anyone close in years. After the pride turned on him—after they made him doubt his instincts, his worth, his place in the world—he built a life on distance. Women were distractions. Fun, beautiful, willing distractions. But never real. Never deep.

And now there was Lillith. All sharp wit and spellcraft precision. Sarcasm and steel and those flashes of soft that ruined him.

He didn’t turn, but he knew she was watching.

Hazel stepped back, her words final. “Whatever happens next… just remember. The bond didn’t trap you. It revealed you.” She walked off without another word.

Dominic let out a breath that didn’t relieve him as much as he had hoped.

Twyla had wandered off into the diner again—bless her, she knew when to exit stage left. Lillith stepped up beside him slowly, guarded as ever.

“That was… something,” she murmured.

“You caught that?”

“Most of it. I mean, Twyla had quite the story, but I was more interested in tuning in to Hazel, especially after she stared at me like that.”

He didn’t look at her. Just stared at the horizon. “She thinks the bond saved my life.”

“She might be right.”

Silence wrapped around them. Not the comfortable kind. The kind filled with jagged edges and truths too big for the space between them.

“I didn’t know,” she said after a beat, quieter now. “If I had?—”

“You’d still have tried to break it,” he said, not accusing. Just tired.

Her laugh was bitter. “Probably.”

He stepped closer—just enough to feel her warmth. To feel that tether pull tighter.

“You said you were afraid of being forced into something.”

“I am.”

“And yet…” He exhaled. “We keep choosing this.”

Her eyes flicked to his. Soft. Scared. Beautiful.

“I don’t know what this is, Dominic,” she admitted. “I don’t know if it’s real or magic or just the universe being a sadistic bastard.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “Could be all three.”

She stared at him. “And that doesn’t scare you?”

He didn’t flinch. “Terrifies me. But I’ve never felt anything this real.”

The church bell rang in the distance. Someone laughed. The wind stirred their hair. Life continued around them while theirs shifted.

He reached for her hand.

Not a claim.

A choice.