My breath stuttered.
I slammed my fist into the wall again.
“No,” I growled. “Never.”
But the bond pulsed. Relentless.
I closed my eyes. And for the very first time in years, I didn’t feel like the hunter.
I felt hunted.
Chapter 31
Reverie
Iwake up in a tangle of blankets and half-mended feelings, the faint hum beneath my skin telling me before I even sit up that it’s still there.
My Nexus mark.
The men left to get breakfast, giving me the privacy I needed this morning to get my head around everything that happened last night. Zeke made me promise to meet them and eat (of course, he did) before we decide what our next move will be.
I feel like all of this is my own doing—not consciously, but I felt the truth the moment my mark flared into existence.
Something inside me knew all of them—even Trent, beyond this lifetime.
Something ancient.
The voice in my dreams—the one who whispers through Queen Lilibet’s memories—murmured one word in the moment before I fell asleep and then woke to the pain.
“Restore”
And my body seemed to have obeyed a little too well, making Trent Storm a member of this Faction right along with the rest of them.
I knew I had to suck it up and get dressed. My guys were just as upset about this shit as I was. We needed to face this together, and my bestie would help me handle it too. She always knew how to make me see things differently.
This bond with Torren—shit—Trent was not something I asked for, even knowing he was a Potential. And to be fair, I don’t think it was something he wanted either.
My abilities and forces that I wasn’t entirely sure about did this.
The voice takes that exact moment to whisper, “We warned you, bonds are permanent… unless broken by truth.”
I don’t even know what the hell that means. “Why do you speak in riddles?” I mutter aloud, aggravated with everything this morning.
“Why does who speak in riddles?” My mom asked, standing beside my bedroll, Mira at her side.
I jumped, not hearing her come in the room. “What the hell, Mom? You scared the crap out of me.”
She laughed, “Sorry, baby. I saw your men heading to breakfast, and they told me you were still here.
My brain isn’t functioning right this morning. “What time is it?”
“Early.” Her eyes flick down to my bare shoulders, then lower, and I remember—too late—that I fell asleep in one of Nathan’s shirts last night, the neckline loose and gaping. I started to tug the blanket up out of instinct, but she reached out and stopped me.
“Don’t,” she whispered, voice oddly reverent. “Let me see it again.”
My heart gave one hard thud.
The mark.
