I was never the type to believe in destiny, magic, or anything that couldn’t be explained by a hangover and poor life choices. Which made the glowing contract floating in front of my face at 2:17 a.m. especially insulting.

My name is Elena Vargas. Twenty-five. Administrative assistant. Currently unemployed after telling my last boss exactly where he could shove his “team-building weekends.” I had exactly forty-seven dollars in my account, a mother recovering from surgery, and a best friend who thought the solution to all problems was “just download this new app, it’s supposed to fix your luck.”

The app was called FateBind. The icon looked like a cheap fantasy game. I was three drinks past caring.

I tapped “Accept All Terms.”

The world ripped open.

One second I was on my shitty apartment couch in my pajamas. The next, I was on my knees in a forest that smelled like ozone and night-blooming flowers, wearing the same tank top and sleep shorts, and three of the most unfairly beautiful men I had ever seen were already arguing over my head.

“I claimed her first,” the silver-haired one said. His voice was cold silk. Antlers of living white wood curved from his temples, catching the moonlight. “The contract recognized my bloodline signature.”

“Your bloodline signature is a glorified sticky note,” growled the second one. He was taller, broader, with short black hair and vertical gold pupils. Heat rolled off him in waves. Scales flickered along his collarbones like living embers. “I felt the binding snap into place the second she accepted. She’s mine.”

“Neither of you can read basic arcane syntax,” the third one murmured. He stood a little apart, hands in the pockets of a long black coat that moved like it had its own opinions. Dark hair fell into eyes the color of old wine. A thin smile cut across his face. “The contract is tripartite. Shared claim. Congratulations. We’re all idiots.”

I stared at them.

Then I did the only reasonable thing.

I screamed.

All three heads turned toward me at the exact same time.

The silver-haired one—Kaelith, I would later learn—tilted his head like I was an interesting insect. “She’s loud.”

“She’s terrified,” the dragon one—Riven—said, already stepping closer. “Move. You’re scaring her.”

“I’m scaring her?” Kaelith’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the one leaking primal heat like an untrained hatchling.”

Soren, the dark one, laughed under his breath. “Both of you are scaring her. Adorable.”

I scrambled backward on pure instinct. My palm hit something soft and glowing. The contract. It had followed me. Golden script still hovered in the air, rearranging itself like it was laughing.

Binding Confirmed.

Primary Contracted: Elena Vargas.

Secondary Claimants: Kaelith of Silverthorn, Riven of the Ember Court, Soren of the Shattered Veil.

Terms: Shared custody. Competitive claim. Mutual non-destruction clause. Physical and emotional resonance active.

Additional clauses pending.

“Shared custody?” My voice came out higher than I wanted. “I’m not a dog!”

Kaelith’s gaze flicked to the contract, then back to me. “You accepted all terms.”

“I thought it was a scam app!”

Riven crouched in front of me, gold eyes molten. Up close he smelled like woodsmoke and thunderstorms. “You’re human. Fragile. You shouldn’t be here.” His hand lifted like he was going to check me for injuries.

Kaelith’s fingers closed around Riven’s wrist before it could touch me. “Do not touch what isn’t solely yours.”

Riven’s lips peeled back from teeth that were suddenly too sharp. “Remove your hand or lose it.”

Soren sighed theatrically. “Children. We have a non-destruction clause. Try not to test it in the first five minutes.”

I slapped Riven’s hand away myself. The contact sent a weird electric jolt up my arm. All three of them went unnaturally still.

Kaelith’s pupils had blown wide. Riven’s scales flared brighter. Soren’s smile turned sharp enough to cut.

“Interesting,” Soren murmured. “Resonance already.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I demanded.

Kaelith straightened, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve. “It means the contract is feeding on proximity and intent. The more we want you, the stronger the pull becomes. For all of us.”

Riven’s laugh was dark. “Speak for yourself, fae. I don’t need a contract to know what’s mine.”

“She’s not yours,” Kaelith said coldly.

“She’s not yours either,” Soren added, almost cheerfully. “She’s currently ours. Temporary. Contested. Deliciously messy.”

I pushed myself to my feet. My legs were shaking. The forest around us was wrong—trees with bark like polished bone, flowers that opened and closed like mouths, a sky with two moons. One of them was bleeding soft silver light.

“Send me back,” I said. “Right now.”

Kaelith’s expression didn’t change. “Impossible. The binding is complete.”

“Then break it.”

“Also impossible,” Soren said. “Not without all three of us agreeing, and where’s the fun in that?”

Riven stepped into my space again, ignoring the way Kaelith’s antlers sharpened. “You’re in the Borderlands of the Silverthorn Court. My territory is three days’ flight from here. His—” he jerked his chin at Soren “—is wherever he feels like rotting. You’re safest with me.”

“She’s safest under formal protection,” Kaelith corrected. “Which I already extended when I signed.”

“You signed a trap,” Soren said. “We all did. The contract has a sense of humor.”

I looked between them, heart hammering. Three men. Three different kinds of beautiful. Three different kinds of insane. And every single one of them was looking at me like I was both prize and problem.

“I want a lawyer,” I said weakly.

Soren actually laughed. The sound was low and rich. “I’ll be your lawyer. My rates are reasonable. I only require exclusive nights and the slow erosion of the other two’s dignity.”

Riven snarled. Kaelith’s magic flared white-hot for a second, making the flowers recoil.

The contract pulsed between us, golden light flaring brighter.

New Clause Detected.

Proximity Mandate: The Primary Contracted must remain within visual range of at least two Claimants at all times for the first seven cycles.