Page 17

Through the bond, Bullseye could feel her love for him curdling into something bitter and poisonous. The woman who'd given herself to him completely just hours before now looked at him like he was something she'd scrape off her shoe.

"Hazel, please," he said, the bond making it physically painful to feel her hatred. "What we have... last night..."

"Last night I bonded with a lie," Hazel said flatly. "I thought I was falling in love with a hero. Turns out I was falling in love with someone who helps dragons destroy magical families for profit."

"I'm not a hero," Bullseye said quietly. "I never claimed to be a hero."

"No," Hazel agreed. "You're just a man who's willing to help commit magical genocide as long as the price is right."

The words hit him like a slap. Through the bond, he could feel her complete loss of faith in him, her regret about their connection, her desperate wish that she'd never met him.

"I can't walk away from this job," he said, though his voice sounded hollow even to his own ears. "I gave my word."

"You gave your word to help destroy magical bonds," Hazel said. "Bonds like mine and Hopper's. How can you not see how monstrous that is?"

"Because it's not personal," Bullseye said again, but the words tasted like ash.

"Everything is personal!" Hazel exploded. "Every bond you help them break belongs to someone! Every familiar that loses their intelligence is someone's best friend, someone's family, someone's other half!"

"I know that," Bullseye said miserably.

"Do you?" Hazel stepped closer, her magic crackling with fury. "Do you really? Because if you truly understood what you're helping them do, you wouldn't be able to sleep at night."

"I don't sleep well," Bullseye admitted.

"Good," Hazel said coldly. "You shouldn't."

The bond between them was screaming with shared pain, but Hazel's disgust was stronger than her love now. Bullseye could feel her already pulling away, mentally and emotionally preparing to sever their connection.

"Don't," he said desperately. "Please don't cut the bond."

"Why not?" Hazel asked. "Give me one good reason why I should stay magically connected to someone who's willing to help destroy bonds just like mine and Hopper's."

"Because I love you," Bullseye said, the words torn from his chest.

"No, you don't," Hazel replied with devastating certainty. "You love the idea of me. You love having someone who accepts your choices without judgment. But you don't love me enough to choose innocent lives over dragon gold."

"That's not fair—"

"Fair?" Hazel laughed bitterly. "You want to talk about fair?

Is it fair that thousands of witches are about to lose their familiars because you need to prove you can complete any delivery?

Is it fair that Hopper might lose his intelligence and personality because you can't walk away from a paycheck? "

"I..." Bullseye struggled to find words that didn't make him sound like a monster. "I don't know how to be different."

"Then learn," Hazel said simply. "Choose to be better."

"I can't," he said finally. "I'm sorry, Hazel, but I can't walk away from this. Not even for you."

The silence that followed was deafening. Through the bond, Bullseye felt something break inside Hazel's chest—not the magical connection, but something deeper. Her faith in him, her love for him, her hope that he might choose her over his reputation.

"Then we're done," she said quietly.

"Hazel, wait—"

"No." She held up a hand to stop him. "You've made your choice. Now I'm making mine."

She turned toward the Trans Am, but Bullseye caught her arm, the bond between them flaring at the contact.

"Where are you going?"

"Away from here. Away from you." She looked at him one last time, and he could feel her memorizing his face through the bond. "I won't be part of this, Bullseye. I won't help you destroy other people's bonds while pretending ours doesn't matter."

"You can't just leave," he said desperately, the bond making it physically painful to let her go. "What about the mating bond? What about us?"

"What about us?" Hazel gently but firmly removed his hand from her arm. "You just told me the man I bonded with doesn't exist."

"That's not what I meant—"

"Yes, it is," Hazel said sadly. "And maybe you're right. Maybe I fell in love with someone who was never really there."

"Don't say that," Bullseye said, though the bond was flooding him with her sadness and his own growing panic.

But Hazel was already walking away, Hopper hopping along beside her with unusual solemnity.

"Where exactly are we going?" the frog asked quietly. "Because in case you forgot, we're still fugitives."

"Anywhere is better than here," Hazel replied, not looking back.

Bullseye stood frozen beside the trailer, the bond between them stretching like a rubber band with every step she took. The pain was incredible—not just emotional, but physical. His magic was screaming at him to go after her, to fix whatever he'd broken, to protect his mate.

"Bull," Snowman said quietly, "you're making a mistake. That woman loves you, and you're throwing it away for what? Dragon gold and bragging rights?"

"The job comes first," Bullseye said, though his voice sounded hollow even to his own ears. "It always has."

"Even when the job is helping dragons break apart families like yours?"

"We're not a family," Bullseye protested. "We barely know each other."

"Tell that to your magic," Snowman said dryly. "Because from where I'm standing, you look like a man whose mate just walked away, and it's killing you."

He was right. The bond was like a constant ache in Bullseye's chest, getting worse with every step Hazel took away from him. His magic was in chaos, reaching desperately for hers and finding only increasing distance.

"I don't know how to do this," he admitted. "I don't know how to be someone's mate. I don't know how to put another person's needs before the job."

"Then maybe it's time to learn," Snowman suggested.

But before Bullseye could respond, the sound of car engines echoed across the parking lot. He looked up to see two patrol cars pulling around the building—Sheriff Lawman's distinctive cruiser in the lead, with Smokie behind the wheel of the second car.

"Hazel!" Smokie called out, jumping from his car with obvious relief. "Thank the goddess you're safe! I've been so worried!"

"Smokie," Hazel said flatly, not moving toward him.

Sheriff Lawman climbed out of his cruiser more slowly, his eyes taking in the scene—the 18-wheeler full of cargo, Bullseye and Snowman standing beside it, and his son's runaway fiancée looking like she'd rather be anywhere else.

"Well, well," the sheriff said, his voice heavy with satisfaction. "Looks like we caught ourselves some smugglers."

"We're not smuggling anything illegal," Bullseye said quickly. "This cargo is completely legal to transport in California."

"But not across state lines," Sheriff Lawman replied with a predatory grin. "And certainly not without the proper federal permits for Class A restricted magical substances."

"How did you—" Snowman started.

"Anonymous tip," the sheriff said smugly. "Someone called in the location of this little rendezvous. Amazing how helpful the public can be when there's a reward involved."

Bullseye felt his world crashing down around him. Not only was he losing Hazel, but now they were caught red-handed with the cargo. The bond between them was screaming with shared pain and panic.

"Hazel," Smokie said earnestly, approaching her with his hands outstretched. "I know you're confused right now, but everything's going to be okay. We can work through this together."

"Together?" Hazel looked at him like he'd grown a second head.

"I forgive you," Smokie continued, apparently taking her silence for agreement. "For running away, for the wedding, for... this." He gestured vaguely at Bullseye. "I know you were just having pre-wedding jitters and this criminal took advantage of your vulnerable state."

"That's not what happened," Hazel said quietly.

"Of course it is!" Smokie said with bright confidence. "Mr. Snuggles and I talked it over, and we both agree that you just need time to remember how much we love each other."

Through the bond, Bullseye could feel Hazel's desperation, her sense of being trapped between impossible choices. Stay with the man who'd betrayed her trust, or go back to the life she'd been running from.

"Hazel," Bullseye said desperately, "don't do this. Don't go with them."

"Why not?" she asked, her voice completely empty. "At least with Smokie, I know exactly what kind of person he is. He's never pretended to be something he's not."

The words hit Bullseye like a physical blow. Through the bond, he could feel her making a choice—not because she wanted Smokie, but because she couldn't bear to stay with someone who'd lied to her so completely.

"I'll take you home," Smokie said, beaming with joy. "We can postpone the wedding until you're feeling better. Maybe a nice quiet ceremony, just family."

"Home sounds good," Hazel said dully, walking toward Smokie's patrol car.

"Hazel, no!" Bullseye started after her, but Sheriff Lawman blocked his path.

"I don't think so, son. You've got bigger problems to worry about than my future daughter-in-law."

"She's not your daughter-in-law," Bullseye snarled, his magic flaring with desperation. "She's my mate!"

"Your what now?" Sheriff Lawman's eyebrows rose.

"We're magically bonded," Bullseye said desperately. "She can't just leave. The bond—"

"The bond can go to hell," Hazel said quietly from beside Smokie's car. "I'd rather be with someone I don't love than magically connected to someone I can't trust."

Smokie opened the passenger door for her with exaggerated gallantry. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Once we're married, we can look into having that nasty bond broken. I'm sure Daddy knows some specialists."

"Actually," Sheriff Lawman said thoughtfully, "those potions are the ones that break witch-familiar bonds, aren't they?" He gestured toward the trailer. "Might solve one problem, at least."

"What do you mean?" Smokie asked, looking confused.

"Well, if she's magically bonded to her little frog friend there, and these potions break those kinds of bonds..." Sheriff Lawman shrugged. "Might make her more... agreeable to family life."

The threat was clear. Bullseye could see Hazel's face go pale through the bond as she realized what the sheriff was suggesting.

"You touch Hopper and I'll turn you into a toad," Hazel said quietly, but there was steel in her voice.

"Now, now," Sheriff Lawman said with false concern. "No threats necessary. Just thinking about what's best for everyone involved."

"Hazel, please," Bullseye said one last time, the bond making it physically painful to watch her get into Smokie's car. "Don't do this. We can figure it out together."

"No," she said simply, sliding into the passenger seat. "We can't. Because there is no 'we.' There never was."

Smokie practically skipped around to the driver's side, pausing only to call out, "Thanks for taking care of my fiancée, Mr. Criminal! I'll be sure to put in a good word for you at your trial!"

"Son," Sheriff Lawman said sharply, "get in the car. We need to secure these suspects and call for backup."

"But Daddy, I want to get Hazel home before—"

"GET IN THE CAR, BOY!"

Smokie jumped at his father's tone and scrambled into the driver's seat. Sheriff Lawman shot one last satisfied look at Bullseye before climbing into the passenger side of his son's car.

"This isn't over," the sheriff called out as Smokie started the engine. "We'll be back with federal agents and proper warrants. Don't even think about running."

As the patrol car pulled away, Bullseye felt something die inside his chest. Through the bond, he could feel Hazel's resignation, her complete loss of hope, her bitter acceptance of a life she'd tried so hard to escape.

The woman he loved—the woman he was magically bonded to for life—had just chosen to go back to a man she didn't love rather than stay with him.

And the worst part was, he couldn't even blame her for it.