CHAPTER THREE: THE PACT
Writer's POV
Three Years Earlier
Evan Harlow was twelve years old when he learned that some promises could kill you.
It was late October, the kind of cold that made your bones ache, and he and Lucas were supposed to be asleep. But they weren't. They never were. The twins had a language made of glances and half-words, and tonight Lucas had looked at him after lights-out with that wild gleam in his eyes that meant adventure.
So they'd climbed out their bedroom window, shimmied down the oak tree, and run through the dark toward the woods behind the estate.
The Harlow property stretched for acres the house, the manicured gardens, the tennis courts, and beyond all that, the forest. Dense and old and wrong in a way Evan felt in his stomach but could never explain. Their mother forbade them from going there after dark.
Which was exactly why Lucas wanted to go.
"Come on!" Lucas called over his shoulder, his breath misting in the air. He was laughing, always laughing, his black hair wild around his face. Even in the darkness, he seemed to glow with some internal light. Joy. Energy. Life.
Evan followed because he always followed. Because Lucas was the sun and Evan was the shadow, and shadows couldn't exist without light.
They looked identical everyone said so. Same sharp cheekbones, same gray eyes, same long limbs that were growing faster than they could coordinate. But where Lucas moved like water, fluid and easy, Evan moved like stone. Where Lucas smiled at everyone, Evan barely spoke.
"You're the spare," their father had said once, drunk on scotch. "Lucas is the heir. You're just... insurance."
Evan had been eight. He'd understood perfectly.
They crashed through the underbrush until they reached the clearing a perfect circle where nothing grew, where the trees bent away like they were afraid. In the center was a flat rock, smooth as glass, dark as obsidian.
"This is it," Lucas said, his voice hushed with reverence. "This is where Dad said the old families used to make their deals."
"Deals with who?" Evan asked, though part of him didn't want to know.
"With whatever lives in the deep places." Lucas grinned, and in the moonlight, his teeth looked too sharp. "With the things that listen when you promise."
Evan's skin prickled. "We should go back."
"Don't be scared." Lucas grabbed his hand, pulled him toward the rock. "I want to show you something. A way to make sure we're never separated. That we're always together, no matter what."
"We're twins. We're already together."
"No." Lucas's grip tightened. "Mom and Dad they're going to try to split us up. Send us to different schools. Make us compete for the company. Turn us against each other." His eyes were fierce, desperate.
"But I have a way to stop it. A way to make sure we stay us."
He pulled a knife from his pocket one of their father's, stolen from the study. The blade gleamed silver in the moonlight.
Evan's heart kicked against his ribs. "Lucas..."
"A blood pact." Lucas held up the knife. "The old kind. The kind that can't be broken. We promise on our blood, on this stone, on whatever's listening that we live together or not at all. That we're two halves of the same person. That we never leave each other."
"That's insane."
"Is it?" Lucas's eyes searched Evan's face. "You feel it too, don't you? How sometimes I know what you're thinking before you say it? How sometimes I can feel what you feel, like we're sharing the same heart?" He pressed his free hand to his chest.
"We're not just brothers, Evan. We're one person in two bodies. And I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you."
Evan should have said no. Should have grabbed Lucas and dragged him home. But he felt it too that terrible, beautiful connection. The way his moods shifted when Lucas was sad. The way his chest ached when Lucas was far away.
"What if it doesn't work?" Evan whispered.
"Then we go home and nothing changes." Lucas smiled. "But what if it does?"
The wind died. The forest went silent. Even the crickets stopped singing.
Evan felt something watching.
"Okay," he heard himself say.
Lucas's smile could have lit the world.
He pressed the knife to his palm, sliced quick and clean. Blood welled up, black in the moonlight. Then he handed the knife to Evan.
Evan's hand shook as he cut his own palm. The pain was sharp, bright, real.
"Now," Lucas said, "we press them together. And we say the words."
"What words?"
"Whatever feels right."
They stood on opposite sides of the stone, palms raised, blood dripping onto the smooth black surface. It hissed where it landed, like water on a hot pan.
Evan's heart hammered. Every instinct screamed to stop, to run, to break this before it started.
But Lucas was looking at him with such hope, such love, such desperate need.
"Together," Lucas said.
They pressed their palms together.
Blood mixed, hot and slick.
And Evan felt something shift. Like a door opening in his chest. Like roots growing down into the earth, anchoring him.
"We are one," Lucas said, his voice strange and echoing. "Two halves of the same whole. We live together or not at all. We breathe the same air, bleed the same blood, die the same death."
The words hung in the air, visible almost, like smoke.
Evan opened his mouth. He should stop this. Should
"We live together or not at all," he repeated. And meant it. God help him, he meant it.
The clearing erupted.
Wind screamed through the trees. The stone beneath their feet grew hot, then cold, then hot again. The blood where their palms met began to glow faint, sickly green, like foxfire.
Lucas's eyes went wide.
"Evan..."
The light flared bright, blinding, and Evan felt something take hold. Not in his hand. In his soul. Like claws sinking into the deepest part of him, binding him to Lucas, to this place, to the promise.
Then it was over.
The wind died. The forest was silent. The glow faded.
Lucas pulled his hand away, staring at his palm. The cut was gone. Not healed ..gone. Like it had never been.
Evan looked at his own palm. Same thing. No scar. No blood. Nothing.
But he could feel it. The connection. Stronger now. Alive. Pulsing like a second heartbeat in his chest.
"Did it work?" Lucas whispered.
Evan nodded slowly. He could feel Lucas inside him now. Not thoughts exactly, but presence. Warmth. Heartbeat. Life.
Lucas laughed, bright and manic. "We did it! We actually did it!" He grabbed Evan's shoulders. "Now they can't separate us. Now we'll always be together. Always."
Evan tried to smile. Tried to feel the same joy Lucas radiated.
But all he felt was cold.
And the terrible certainty that they'd done something that couldn't be undone.
They walked home in silence.
When they climbed back through the window, Lucas immediately fell asleep, a smile on his face.
Evan lay awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the new weight in his chest.
The pact.
We live together or not at all.
It felt true. It felt binding.
It felt like a collar.
He pressed his hand to his chest, felt the double heartbeat there, his and Lucas's, tangled together.
"What did we do?" he whispered to the darkness.
The darkness didn't answer.
But somewhere deep in the woods, something smiled.
And waited.
Present Day
Evan jerked awake at his desk, heart pounding.
He was nine now. Three years past the pact. But the dream the memory still came every few weeks, vivid and terrible.
He looked at his palm. Still no scar. Still no proof.
But he could feel it. The connection to Lucas. Constant. Inescapable.
A knock at his door.
"Evan?" His mother's voice, cold and clipped. "Breakfast."
He stood, smoothed his shirt, forced his face into blankness.
Downstairs, Lucas was already at the table, laughing at something their father said. He looked up when Evan entered, and for just a moment, their eyes met.
Lucas smiled.
Evan felt the pact pulse between them.
We live together or not at all.
He sat down and ate his breakfast and said nothing.
But in his mind, he heard the wind from that night.
And wondered what, exactly, they'd promised themselves to.