The hallway blurred past. She found a bathroom, locked herself in a stall, and pressed her marked wrist against the cool metal of the partition. The mark hummed with satisfaction, pleased by Allegra's recovery and by the promise of what was coming.
Briar closed her eyes and breathed through the reality of it. In three days, she'd walk back into that forest and never come out. But Allegra would live. Would grow up. Would have the chance Briar was trading away.
Worth it.
She repeated the words until she believed them.
Chapter three
The next three hours passed in a blur of medical impossibility. Doctors flooded Allegra's room, running test after test, each result more baffling than the last. Blood work came back pristine. Scans showed organs functioning perfectly where they'd been failing just hours before. Dr. Locklear sat at Allegra's bedside with actual tears in her eyes.
"I've never seen anything like this," she said, staring at the test results like they might change if she looked hard enough. "Yesterday her organs were shutting down. Today..." She shook her head, lost. "It's a miracle. There's no other word for it."
Briar stood by the window, watching their reflections in the dark glass. Every time someone said "miracle," the mark thrummed hot against her skin. It was though it was reminding her that it hadn’t been a miracle. It had been a bargain. A trade.
Allegra was laughing at something a nurse said, color bright in her cheeks, so vibrantly alive it hurt to look at her.
"We'll want to keep her overnight for observation," Dr. Locklear was saying, still staring at those impossible test results. "But if everything stays stable... she can go home tomorrow."
June nodded, but kept her focus on Allegra. She hadn't stopped touching her—her hand, her hair, her face. Constant contact, as if she could keep her daughter alive through touch alone. But every few minutes, her eyes would find Briar across the room. Knowing. Questioning. Recognizing something in her eldest daughter that hadn't been there before.
As the medical staff finally filtered out, leaving them in relative quiet, June spoke without looking away from Allegra.
"I need to speak with your sister. We'll be right back, sweetheart."
"Okay." Allegra yawned, sinking back into pillows that no longer looked like they were swallowing her. "But don't take forever. I want to hear about everything I missed."
Everything you'll miss,Briar thought, then shoved it down deep where the mark couldn't taste her grief.
June led her into the hallway, past the nurse's station with its curious eyes, into a small family waiting room that had seen too many desperate conversations. The moment the door closed, she spun.
"Show me your arm."
"Mom—"
"Show me."
There was steel in June's voice that Briar had never heard before. The voice of someone who'd made their own devil's bargain and recognized the signs.
Slowly, as though showing her mother would somehow make it all real in a way that was inescapable, Briar pushed up her left sleeve.
The mark was still there, wrapped around her wrist like living art, thorned vines in blacks and greens so dark they seemed to swallow light. It carried its own heartbeat, warm against her skin. Elegant and vicious and absolutely permanent.
June's face went white and she sank into a chair, hand pressed to her mouth.
"What did you trade?" Her voice barely carried across the small room.
Briar pulled her sleeve down, hiding the evidence of her decision. "It doesn't matter."
"A life for a life right? That's what he said to me too." June's fingers twisted in her lap. Briar turned away, tried to focus on anything but the woman she’d spent much of her life resenting all while desperate for love she seemed unwilling to give. "But listen, it might not be what you think. I made my deal twenty-five years ago and he never came. Never. As long as you stay away from the forest like I did. Just—"
"Mom—"
"He never even said when he'd collect. That has to mean something, right? Maybe they can't actually claim us outside their realm, maybe—"
"Three days." Briar's words cut through her mother's desperate rambling. "He gave me three days."
June went very still. "He... he told you when?"
