Chapter 14 The Fifth Bond

Blake Rivers - POV

I watch Marcus like I'm dissecting a lie, cataloging every micro-expression while Emma's reality reshapes itself around his presence. His body language screams exhaustion, but his eyes hold the kind of desperate determination I recognize in people who've already decided they're expendable. That makes him dangerous in ways he probably doesn't understand.

"Ryan, Cole, Kai—corridor positions," I order without breaking eye contact with Marcus. Through our bond, I feel their reluctance to leave Emma exposed, but they trust my ability to read people's intentions. "I need to assess this without emotional interference."

Marcus doesn't flinch at my command, which means he's either fearless or suicidal. His hand remains locked with Emma's despite energy visibly crackling between them like live wire. The connection they share pulses with rhythms I recognize from our own bond, but deeper, older.

"Interesting," I murmur, circling them like a predator studying prey. "That energy pattern between you—when did it start?"

"Blake," Emma warns, but I'm already reading Marcus's involuntary responses. Pupil dilation, slight shoulder tension, the way his breathing shifts when I mention their connection.

"You've been bound to her for years," I continue, watching his micro-expressions confirm my hypothesis. "Not recently. Not since Kane found you. This goes back to childhood, doesn't it?"

Marcus's jaw tightens. "What's your point?"

"My point is that you're not some random foster brother who developed abilities. You're part of something that was always meant to include five people, not four." I pull out my phone, showing them photos I've taken of the original binding chambers beneath the university. "The ritual sites are designed for five participants. Always have been."

Emma stares at the images. "That's impossible. The Midnight Society has always been four heirs and one conduit."

"Has it?" I scroll to pictures of ancient carvings I discovered in the underground tunnels. "Look at the symbols. Five points, five stones, five bloodline markers. Somewhere in history, they started using incomplete rituals."

Through our bond, I sense Ryan's analytical mind engaging with the implications while Cole's protective instincts spike toward violence. Kai's synesthesia shows our collective tension as writhing red shapes across his vision.

"You're saying our bond is incomplete," Marcus says. It's not a question.

"I'm saying incomplete five-person bonds are unstable. They burn out." I pocket the phone, studying their reactions to gauge how much truth they can handle. "I've been tracking mortality rates among enhanced individuals through university records going back decades. Four-person bonds fail within months."

Emma goes pale. "Define 'fail.'"

"Neural breakdown. Psychic overload. Death." I don't soften it—they need to understand the stakes. "But five-person bonds, when properly integrated, can last for years."

"And improperly integrated?" Marcus asks.

I meet his gaze directly. "Everyone dies. Usually within hours."

The recovery room feels smaller as silence stretches between us. Through our bond, I feel the others processing this information, their emotions ranging from Ryan's clinical concern to Cole's barely controlled rage.

"So what are you suggesting?" Emma's voice carries a brittle edge I've learned means she's close to breaking.

"I'm suggesting we have two choices. Attempt controlled integration under conditions I dictate, or watch our current bond kill all of us within weeks." I move closer to Marcus, invading his personal space to test his reactions. "But integration means one of us might not survive the process. The question is whether you're willing to risk that."

Marcus straightens, meeting my psychological pressure without backing down. "And the question is whether you're willing to share Emma with someone who's known her longer than you have."

The observation hits exactly where he intended it to. Through our bond, Emma feels my spike of possessive anger, but also the uncomfortable truth beneath it—I have been viewing Marcus as competition for her attention rather than potential salvation for us all.

"Touché," I acknowledge, which seems to surprise him. "But my jealousy doesn't change the medical reality. Integration attempts have a higher fatality rate than any other supernatural procedure."

"Then what do we do?" Emma asks.

Before I can outline my carefully planned approach, Marcus reaches for her hand again—not romantically, but with the unconscious comfort of family. The moment their skin connects, the world explodes.

Power floods the room like a burst dam, but this isn't the controlled energy we've grown used to through our bond. This is raw psychic force that makes the air itself feel electric, charged with potential that could either create or destroy.

Emma gasps as the connection between her and Marcus flares beyond anything I've witnessed. But what terrifies me isn't the power—it's the sudden expansion of our bond to include Marcus whether we chose it or not.

Consciousness floods between all five of us like breaking glass.

I'm drowning in Marcus's deepest terror—Emma dying alone while he's powerless to save her, her lifeless body in a hospital bed while machines flatline around her. Then Emma's worst nightmare crashes over me: everyone she loves abandoning her because her abilities make her too dangerous, too broken to deserve affection. Ryan's clinical facade crumbles as I experience his horror at watching patients die despite his medical knowledge, the weight of every life he couldn't save. Cole's memories explode through my mind—waking up covered in blood with no memory of violence, the certainty that he's a monster wearing human skin. Kai's synesthetic nightmares flood my senses where colors scream like dying animals and sounds have razor-sharp teeth.

And through it all, Emma experiences every fear simultaneously, her conduit abilities amplifying each terror until they become unbearable physical pain.

Marcus tries to release her hand, but energy holds them locked together like magnetized metal. "I can't break the connection," he gasps, panic cracking his voice. "The integration—it's happening by itself."

Through our bond, I feel Ryan, Cole, and Kai being dragged into the psychic maelstrom against their will. The recovery room fills with Emma's screaming as five people's worst nightmares tear through her mind like shrapnel.

The integration isn't controlled. It isn't gradual. And if I don't find a way to stop it in the next sixty seconds, the uncontrolled bonding process is going to kill every one of us.