Chapter 5 Blood Makes a Vow

The headlights cut through the trees like blades.

Roman doesn’t panic.

He calculates.

I see it happen in his eyes — distance, terrain, wind direction. The river at our backs. The ridge above. The narrow path between trees that only something born to this forest would notice.

“They shouldn’t have tracked us this fast,” I whisper.

“They didn’t,” he replies.

He looks at my wrist.

The crescent mark pulses faintly in the moonlight.

Understanding settles cold in my stomach.

“They followed the bond.”

Roman’s jaw tightens.

“Yes.”

The SUVs below fan out. Doors slam. Men spill into the forest in dark tactical gear, rifles already raised. Not chapel guards.

Professionals.

Morretti escalated.

“They’ll push us toward the river,” I say quietly.

Roman glances at me.

“You read terrain well.”

“I read predators well.”

A flicker of approval crosses his face.

Gunfire erupts — not aimed yet. Warning shots. Forcing movement.

Roman steps closer to me.

“This will get ugly.”

“It already is.”

Another round cracks against the trunk inches from my head.

Roman swears under his breath.

“Get on my back.”

“What?”

“Now.”

There’s no dominance in his voice this time — just urgency.

I climb onto his back, ignoring the protest in my injured shoulder. His hands grip beneath my thighs, securing me in place.

The heat of him seeps through my clothes.

The mark on my wrist burns brighter.

Roman inhales once, deeply.

Then he shifts.

Not partially.

Fully.

His body explodes outward in muscle and fur, bones rearranging with a sound that should terrify me but instead feels inevitable. Where a man stood, a massive black wolf now towers — larger than any animal I’ve ever seen.

His fur gleams silver at the edges under the moon.

His eyes remain gold.

He doesn’t stagger under my weight.

He runs.

Bullets chase us through the trees.

Branches snap.

Men shout.

But they can’t match him.

He moves like this forest belongs to him.

Because it does.

We reach the river’s edge in seconds.

He doesn’t hesitate.

He leaps.

The cold hits like a shockwave as we plunge into the current. I gasp, clinging tighter to his fur. The river swallows sound and scent both.

He swims powerfully across, using the water to sever our trail.

When we emerge on the opposite bank, the forest feels older. Wilder. Less disturbed by human intrusion.

Roman shifts back as soon as we clear the tree line.

The transformation back is slower.

More controlled.

He kneels briefly, catching his breath.

I slide off him, soaked and shaking from adrenaline.

The crescent on my wrist is glowing fully now — no longer subtle.

Roman sees it immediately.

“They’re using you to track me,” he says quietly.

Anger flares in my chest.

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“I know.”

The simplicity of his tone cuts through my frustration.

Behind us, distant shouting carries faintly across the river.

“They’ll circle,” I say.

“Yes.”

He steps toward me.

“This is my fault.”

“No,” I snap. “You were chained. Drugged. Used. None of this is your fault.”

His gaze holds mine.

“You walked into it because of me.”

“I walked into it because of my brother.”

The words hang between us.

Roman stills.

“What debt?” he asks.

I exhale sharply.

“The Morrettis own his life. I was stealing their ledger for leverage.”

Understanding dawns in his eyes.

“They were never going to let him go.”

“I know.”

“Then they used you,” he says.

“Like they used you.”

Silence stretches.

The forest around us hums with quiet danger.

Roman steps closer, slower this time.

“Vesper,” he says, voice steadier now. “The bond isn’t just marking you. It’s linking us.”

“I gathered.”

“If they have someone skilled in blood magic—”

“Blood magic?” I cut in.

His expression darkens.

“The Morrettis don’t just deal in money. They deal in leverage of every kind.”

The realization sinks in.

“They bound you to me intentionally?”

“They may not have known who,” he says. “But they were studying compatibility. Bloodlines. Scent reactions.”

My stomach turns.

“So I wasn’t random.”

“No.”

His hand lifts.

Stops inches from my face.

“They were waiting for you.”

A crack of thunder rolls overhead — though the sky is clear.

The crescent on my wrist flares painfully.

I gasp.

Roman’s eyes sharpen.

“They’re pulling.”

“Pulling what?”

“You.”

The pain intensifies — not physical exactly, but internal. Like a hook sinking into something deep in my chest.

Roman curses.

He grabs my wrist gently but firmly.

“Focus on me.”

“I am focused—”

“On me,” he repeats, voice commanding now.

I force my eyes to his.

Gold.

Steady.

Grounding.

“Breathe with me,” he says.

I match his inhale.

His exhale.

The pulling sensation lessens slightly.

“They tied your blood to mine in captivity,” he says tightly. “They must have used ritual binding.”

“I didn’t agree to any ritual.”

“You don’t need consent to create a tether,” he says. “Only access.”

Rage rises sharp and clean.

“They cut me?”

His gaze drops briefly to my wrist.

“You were in the vault long enough.”

Memory flickers.

The moment I brushed the cell window.

The slight sting I dismissed as nothing.

My stomach drops.

“They needed your blood near mine,” he says. “And the moon.”

The bond pulses again — but weaker now.

Roman steps even closer.

“If they can pull you, they can weaken me.”

“Then break it,” I say.

His jaw tightens.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not false.”

The words land heavy.

“It responded because we’re compatible. Because instinct recognized truth.”

My pulse stutters.

“So they exploited something real.”

“Yes.”

The forest suddenly feels too tight around us.

“Then we remove their leverage,” I say.

Roman’s eyes narrow slightly.

“How?”

“You said they’re using blood magic.”

“Yes.”

“Then we take back control of the bond before they can.”

A flicker of surprise crosses his features.

“You’re suggesting we complete it.”

I swallow.

The implication is clear.

Permanent.

Binding.

Irreversible.

“If it makes us stronger,” I say carefully, “then yes.”

Roman steps back like I’ve struck him.

“You don’t understand what that means.”

“Explain it.”

His voice lowers.

“If I claim you fully under the moon, your life becomes tied to mine. My enemies become yours. My pack becomes your pack. If I die—”

“You think I don’t already know the risk?” I interrupt.

He studies me for a long moment.

“Why?” he asks quietly.

The question is softer than anything he’s said tonight.

Why would I risk it?

Why would I tie myself to a wolf hunted by mafia and rogues alike?

I look at the river.

At the forest.

At the faint glow of my own skin.

“Because they’re already hunting me,” I say. “And because when you had every chance to dominate, you chose restraint.”

Something shifts in his expression.

Something dangerously tender.

Gunfire cracks faintly in the distance again — closer this time.

They’re crossing the river.

Roman’s head turns sharply toward the sound.

Decision time.

He looks back at me.

“If we do this,” he says quietly, “there is no undoing it.”

My heart pounds.

The crescent burns.

The engines grow louder.

I meet his gaze without flinching.

“Then don’t ask me to run.”

For a second, he just looks at me.

Then his hand slides to the back of my neck.

His forehead rests against mine.

The moonlight intensifies.

The forest stills.

His voice drops to a vow.

“Say the word, Vesper.”

Behind us—

Branches snap.

Boots hit soil.

Men shout.

And something in the shadows growls in answer.

I close my eyes.

And I whisper—

“Yes.”