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“Even if we found a judge to marry us tonight, a piece of paper isn’t binding enough, and we don’t have time to bond. Their plan launches in three days, Orien. And it’s bad. My defection won’t stop it. They’ll have a backup plan.”

Orien slowly releases me and strides to the counter, where he opens a drawer. Turning, he sets a small glass vial on the counter between us.

The vial holds maybe an ounce of clear liquid, unremarkable, the label plain white with a black font that reads: Inductis.

Orien takes a half step back, giving me a full sight line to both the vial and the door. “Once taken, we don’t stop until it’s done.”

Understanding dawns as I stare at the vial. I’ve only heard whispers about the black-market iterations of the drug, able to regulate Heat cycles, or in this case, force one. More than one, if he means to bond me as soon as possible.

Right here, right now, he’ll Mark me, mate me, and bond himself to a Vartanian to become family. The offer hangs in the air, a path forward paved with complete surrender.

I’m aware of the apartment door, that Orien has not moved to block it, that walking away is a real option, and he’s not pretending otherwise.

My car keys are in my pocket. My shoes are lined up by the door. My jacket hangs on the hook.

Five steps back would take me to the door. Back to the family. Back to Alexei and the identity I’ve spent eight years building. I could pretend tonight never happened.

But I’ll never be trusted again. Not the way I was only a month ago. I burned that bridge the moment I chose to warn the Blue Note about what was coming. I can’t pretend I didn’t choose this path. And I can’t take it back.

The sound of my own breathing fills the quiet kitchen. My pulse, suddenly loud, beats a steady rhythm in my ears. I look from the vial to Orien, and the world narrows to this single point of decision.

One life before this choice. Another after it. Everything hinges on this moment.

My fingers hover over the vial. “This isn’t a game.”

“No.” Orien doesn’t move. “It never was.”

Heart pounding, I close my fingers around the vial.

Orien’s breath catches, once, almost too quiet to hear.

I hold it up to the light, watching the way it catches and reflects. “How long?”

“This version is fast. Six hours, give or take, for a full cycle.”

I roll the vial between my fingers. “And after?”

“There’s an after,” Orien says, “no matter what you decide about the bond.”

“And if I decide I don’t want any of this? Would you let me walk away?”

“After the third Mark?” His eyes hold mine. “No. But right now?” One shoulder lifts in a casual shrug. “It’s your decision.”

The answer settles between us, honest and uncompromising. He won’t pretend he doesn’t want me to stay. He won’t pretend it doesn’t matter if I leave. But he won’t force the choice, either.

It’s more than anyone else has ever given me.

I look down at the vial again, then back at him. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you’re here,” he says. “You told the truth. And you chose me.”

A lump forms in my throat. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

I uncap the vial.

The scent that rises from it carries a chemical bite, with an underlying sweetness that wrinkles my nose. Not unpleasant, exactly, but unlike anything I’ve encountered before.