Page 86 of Chasing Stripes

“I can’t let those people die,” she whispered, knowing Bartek could hear her perfectly with his tiger-enhanced senses.

His hands found hers, their fingers intertwining as their connection intensified. “And I can’t lose you,” he replied softly. “There has to be another way.”

She studied his face—the strong lines of his jaw, the determined set of his mouth, the amber eyes that watched her with such devotion. In the days since their soul-tether had first manifested, he had become essential to her in ways that transcended their magical bond.

“Whatever happens,” she told him, “whatever choice we make—I need you to know I don’t regret a single moment.”

His expression softened, vulnerability showing through his alpha strength. “Neither do I.” His thumb brushed across her knuckles. “Even facing this, knowing what might happen, I’d choose you again.”

Beyond the barrier, their friends continued their rescue attempts with increasing urgency as the eclipse drew nearer. The captives watched with desperate hope, their weakened magical signatures flickering.

And in the center of it all, Elias Nightshade—The Collector—waited with the patient certainty of someone who believed victory was already his.

“Time is running short,” Elias called to them, his mismatched eyes gleaming with anticipation. “What will it be, cousin? Will you surrender your bond willingly, or shall we do this the painful way?”

Artemis met Bartek’s gaze one more time, their silent communication flowing through the golden connection between them. Whatever happened next, they would face it together—their futures now inseparably intertwined by something far stronger than the magic that bound them.

When she turned back, a visible force field appeared between her and Bartek, separating them. Bartek roared and pounded his fist on the barrier, but not even he could break free. It was just her now.

SEVENTY-SEVEN

Time froze in the underground chamber as Artemis stared into Elias Nightshade’s eyes—one blood-red, the other fae-gold. Her heart hammered against her ribs while her mind frantically cataloged options, escape routes, possibilities.

“What will it be, cousin?” The Collector’s voice carried a silky confidence. “Surrender it willingly, or shall I drain these poor captives one by one while you watch?”

Across the chamber, her friends struggled against their magical prison. Thora’s sabertooth claws scraped against the shimmering barrier, leaving faint silver marks that healed themselves almost instantly. Artair’s massive bear-shifter shoulders slammed repeatedly into the wall, the impact sending ripples through the magical construct without breaking it. Rust, ever the strategic lion, circled the perimeter, golden eyes searching for structural weaknesses.

Kalyna’s fox magic crackled in dancing red sparks around her fingertips as she prodded the barrier. Behind another barrier, Bartek paced restlessly in his tiger form. Massive paws padded silently across stone, muscles bunching beneath striped fur as amber eyes locked onto Artemis. The connection between them stretched taut, golden light undulating where it passed through the magical field.

Artemis’s gaze drifted to the captives in their cages. Viridian Nightbourne—gaunt from magical drain, his aristocratic features reduced to hollow shadows—pressed his face against the bars. His vampire fangs had partially extended from stress, eyes sunken and desperate. Beside him, a young werewolf boy curled in on himself, barely conscious. An elderly witch sat ramrod straight despite her obvious exhaustion, dignity unbroken. What appeared to be a sylph—wispy and translucent around the edges—hovered near the cage door, too weak to maintain solid form.

The weight of their suffering pressed on Artemis’s conscience. If she refused The Collector’s demand, these innocent people would pay the price.

Soul-tethers can be amplified or severed during astronomical alignments. The same cosmic power that enables breaking can enhance binding, if channeled with proper intent.

The eclipse was minutes away from totality.

Artemis took a single step forward, chin lifted. The golden tether trailing from her midsection brightened in response.

“If I surrender willingly,” she asked, voice steadier than she felt, “you’ll release all the captives? Unharmed?”

“Artemis, no!” Bartek’s anguished voice emerged from his tiger form, human enough to speak but wild enough to send dust cascading from the ancient ceiling.

His amber eyes widened fractionally, understanding dawning in their depths. A nearly imperceptible nod confirmed he’d received her message.

The Collector’s lips curved into a smile that never reached his mismatched eyes. “Of course. I have no quarrel with them once I have what I want. They’ve served their purpose as... research subjects.”

Artemis shuddered at his casual disregard for suffering. She let a single tear track down her cheek—genuine emotion, but not for the reason he assumed.

“Very well,” she said, shoulders squared. “I accept your terms.”

“Excellent.” The Collector extended a pale hand toward the intricate ritual circle carved into the stone floor. “Step into the circle, cousin. Your tiger remains contained until the transfer completes.”

As she moved toward the circle, her feet making no sound on the ancient stone, Artemis focused. Rather than beginning to release it as The Collector expected, she channeled more energy into the connection, visualizing the tether growing stronger, brighter, more resilient.

Mother’s journal said these connections respond to intent during an eclipse, she thought, hoping Bartek could understand through their bond.If we amplify instead of sever...

The worn stone of the ritual circle felt looked well-worn. Nearby, the stolen recipe book lay open on an obsidian pedestal, pages rustling in a magical breeze that shouldn’t exist underground. The Collector’s complex apparatus surrounded the circle—crystals, silver bowls filled with strange liquids, bones of creatures Artemis couldn’t identify.

---