The scene inside makes my stomach drop.
Fern stands in the middle of the room with her back to me. When she looks back at me, I can make out a bruise already forming on her cheek, dark and angry against her pale skin. A man, I assume, Robbie, stands behind her with one arm wrapped around her waist to keep her pinned against him. His other hand holds a knife to her throat. A thin line of red already marks her skin where the blade has pressed too hard.
But that’s not what makes me freeze.
Dark veins crawl up Robbie’s neck and across his face, black and branching like cracks in old porcelain. I’ve seen marks like that before. On the Cheslem wolves. On anyone who’s been touched by their corruption.
He must have encountered them during his time hiding in the woods near pack territory. Must have stumbled across one of their patrols or wandered too close to their border. Whatever happened, their dark magic has sunk its claws into him, twisting something that was already broken into something far more dangerous.
“Robbie,” Fern says, her voice calm despite the knife at her throat, “listen to me. Whatever you’re feeling right now, it’s not real. Something is wrong with you. Something has gotten inside your head.”
“Don’t.” His voice comes out rough, barely human. “Don’t try to shrink me, Fern. I know what you’re doing. I know all your little tricks.”
“This isn’t a trick. Look at your hands. Look at your arms. Do you see those marks? Those aren’t normal. Something happened to you, and it’s making you act this way.”
“I’m acting this way because you betrayed me. You left me. You ran away and found some new man to spread your legs for, and you thought I would just let that go?”
“I left because you hurt me.”
“I loved you!”
“This isn’t love, Robbie. This is possession. And whatever that darkness is doing to you, it’s making everything worse. You need help. Real help. The kind I can give you if you just put down the knife.”
Through the hole in the door, I can see the black veins pulsing beneath his skin. The corruption is feeding on his rage, amplifying it, turning ordinary human jealousy into something monstrous. If it’s progressed this far, there might not be much of the real Robbie left.
But Fern doesn’t know that. She’s trying to reach a man who barely exists anymore, using her training and her compassion to talk down a threat she doesn’t fully understand.
“I’m going to open this door,” I announce through the hole I made. “And when I do, you’re going to let her go.”
Robbie’s head snaps toward the sound. Through the opening, I can see his eyes—bloodshot, wild, with flecks of black swimming in the whites.
“Her boyfriend,” he snarls. “The big tough guy who thinks he can take her from me.”
“She was never yours to begin with.”
“She’s always been mine. Since the day we met. And no backwoods hick from this nothing town is going to change that.”
“Robbie, please,” Fern tries again. “Connor, don’t provoke him. Just give me a minute. Let me try.”
I want more than anything to rip the door off its hinges and tear Robbie apart, but Fern is asking me to wait. Fern istrying to handle this her way. And if I rush in now, that knife could slice across her throat before I take two steps.
She returns her attention to Robbie, and I watch through the hole as she lifts her hands slowly, palms out, showing him she’s not a threat. “Robbie, can you tell me when these marks first appeared? When did you first notice them?”
“I don’t…” He blinks, and for a moment, confusion crosses his face. “I don’t remember.”
“Okay. That’s okay. Memory problems can be a symptom of a lot of things. Infections, fever, and even extreme stress. Your body is clearly fighting something, Robbie. Those marks on your skin… I’ve never seen anything like them. You need treatment. Real treatment from people who can figure out what’s wrong.”
“You’re lying. You just want me to let my guard down.”
“I’m not lying. Look at yourself. Really look. Does any of this seem normal to you?”
Behind me, I hear footsteps approaching. Nic’s scent reaches me a moment later, followed by Dylan and Thomas. They stop a few feet back, taking in the situation without a word.
“Status,” Nic murmurs.
“Her ex has her at knifepoint. He’s been corrupted. Cheslem magic, from what I can tell. Must have run into some of their people while he was camping near the border.”
Nic swears under his breath. “How far gone?”
