Chapter 3 The Binding

Emma Stone - First Person POV

I knew I was walking into a trap, but I didn't realize I was walking into my destiny.

The chapel door closes behind me with a sound like a coffin lid. Candles flicker along the stone walls, casting dancing shadows that make the carved angels look like demons. Four men wait for me in the center aisle, each one exactly where I sensed them from outside.

The first one steps forward. Tall, pale, with dark hair perfectly styled despite the late hour. He moves like a doctor making rounds, clinical and precise.

"Emma Stone," he says, and even my name sounds like a diagnosis in his mouth. "Age twenty-one. Psychology major. Full scholarship. Three jobs, no family support, grade point average of 3.8 despite working eighty hours a week." He tilts his head. "Remarkable pain tolerance, both physical and emotional."

"Who are you?" I ask, though part of me already knows.

"Ryan Cross. Pre-med, graduating valedictorian." He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Your medical records make fascinating reading. Broken arm at age seven, no painkillers needed. Wisdom teeth removal at eighteen, refused anesthesia. Most people would find that impossible."

The second man laughs, a warm sound that makes me want to trust him instantly. He's beautiful in the way movie stars are beautiful, with golden hair and blue eyes that seem to see right through me.

"Ryan, you're scaring her." He extends his hand toward me. "Blake Rivers. And you, Emma Stone, are much more interesting than your files suggest."

I don't take his hand. Something about his smile reminds me of the loan sharks who came looking for Mom after Dad died. Dangerous people who make you want to help them.

"What files?" I ask.

Blake's smile widens. "Academic records, work history, psychological profiles from your guidance counselor sessions. Did you know you scored in the ninety-ninth percentile for empathic sensitivity? That's rare. Very rare."

The third man hasn't spoken yet. He stands in the shadows, watching me with dark eyes that miss nothing. When he steps into the candlelight, I see scars on his knuckles and a face that belongs to a warrior, not a college student.

"Cole Mason," he says, voice rough like he doesn't use it much. "My family built this chapel. Built this whole university." He looks at me like he's trying to solve a puzzle. "You're not what we expected."

"What did you expect?"

"Someone weaker," he says simply.

The fourth man practically bounces on his feet, energy radiating off him like heat waves. His clothes are covered in paint stains, and his dark hair sticks up in all directions. When he grins at me, it's like staring into the sun.

"Kai West," he says, pulling out his phone to show me the screen. "I've been painting you for months."

The image makes my knees buckle. It's me, exactly me, standing in this chapel with golden light pouring from my hands. But in the painting, I'm not afraid. I look powerful. Dangerous.

"How is that possible?" I whisper.

"Same way you knew we were here before you opened the door," Kai says. "Same way you've been having dreams about drowning. Same way you always know when people are lying."

Ryan steps closer, and I smell antiseptic and something metallic. "Your grandmother Evelyn was like you. A conduit. Someone who can amplify psychic abilities in others."

"You killed her."

"We helped her," Blake says smoothly. "For three years, she lived a life most people can't imagine. Wealth, power, knowledge beyond anything taught in classrooms."

Cole shakes his head. "She got scared. Tried to break the bond before it was complete. That's what killed her, not us."

"The bond?"

Ryan pulls out an old medical journal, pages yellow with age. "Think of it as a symbiotic relationship. You provide amplification, we provide protection and resources. Everyone benefits."

"What about Jess? Is she benefiting right now?"

The temperature in the chapel drops ten degrees. All four men go very still.

"Your friend is fine," Blake says carefully. "She's sleeping peacefully in the hospital. Having pleasant dreams. But if you leave here without completing the trial binding, those dreams will become permanent."

Rage builds in my chest like a fire. "You're threatening to kill her if I don't cooperate."

"We're offering to save her if you do," Ryan corrects. "The choice is yours."

I look around the chapel, taking in the stone walls and stained glass windows that seem to watch me with colored eyes. The carved symbols above the altar match the ones that were on the forbidden cabinet in the library.

"What happens during this trial binding?"

Kai pulls out more paintings from behind the altar. Each one shows the same scene: five people standing in a circle, power flowing between them like visible light. But in his paintings, the light flows both ways.

"We link our abilities temporarily," Ryan explains. "You'll experience what it's like to access enhanced senses, and we'll see if your amplification works with our specific talents."

"And if it doesn't work?"

Cole's jaw tightens. "It'll work."

"How do you know?"

"Because you're still standing here," Blake says. "Most people would have passed out from psychic pressure the moment they walked through that door. But you're not just standing here. You're pushing back."

He's right. I can feel something building inside me, like static electricity before a storm. The closer I get to them, the stronger it becomes.

"Fine," I say. "But when this is over, you fix whatever you did to Jess."

"Agreed," Ryan says.

They form a circle around me, each one exactly the same distance away. Ryan begins speaking in a language that sounds like Latin mixed with something older. The words seem to carve themselves into the air between us.

Power slams into me from four different directions.

Ryan's energy feels like ice water in my veins, precise and controlled. For the first time in years, I can sense his surprise when he actually feels the connection, like he's been numb his whole life and suddenly remembers what touch feels like.

Blake's power wraps around my mind like silk, trying to read my thoughts. But instead of opening up to him, I push back. He staggers, and I catch a glimpse of his shock when he realizes he can't get inside my head.

Cole's energy is violence barely held in check, but when it touches me, something changes. The chaotic rage that usually drives him goes quiet. For the first time in years, his mind is peaceful.

Kai's power hits me like paint thrown at a canvas, wild and beautiful and impossible to control. But through our connection, I see what he sees when he looks at me: pure golden light, brighter than anything he's ever painted.

The ritual should make me their conduit. I should be channeling power to them, making them stronger while I get weaker.

Instead, something inside me grabs hold of their energy and pulls.

All four men drop to their knees, gasping. Power flows from them into me, and I feel myself changing. Getting stronger. My psychic abilities don't just amplify theirs anymore. They amplify mine.

"Stop," Ryan gasps. "You're reversing the flow."

But I can't stop. I don't want to stop. For the first time in my life, I'm not the one being used. I'm not the scholarship kid working herself to death for scraps. I'm not the girl who takes whatever the world gives her and says thank you.

I'm powerful.

The chapel walls start to glow with the same golden light from Kai's paintings. The stained glass windows rattle in their frames. Four men who thought they could control me kneel at my feet, bound to me instead of the other way around.

Then slow clapping echoes through the chapel.

"Magnificent," says a woman's voice from the doorway. "Even better than we predicted."

I turn to see a middle-aged woman in an expensive suit walking down the aisle like she owns the place. Her gray hair is perfectly styled, and her smile is the kind politicians practice in mirrors.

"Dean Mills," Ryan says, struggling to stand. "This wasn't supposed to happen until"

"Until when?" Dean Mills asks, still clapping. "Until she was properly broken down? Until she believed she had no choice?" She looks at me with satisfaction. "Emma Stone, you've just become the most valuable student in Blackwood's history. And gentlemen, you've just learned what it feels like to be owned."

The power still flows between us, but now it feels less like strength and more like chains. Golden chains that bind all five of us together, whether we want them or not.

"What did you do to me?" I whisper.

Dean Mills smiles. "I gave you exactly what you wanted, my dear. Power. The question now is what you plan to do with it."