The cut missed her right eye by less than an inch. If Rip had been any closer, he would’ve blinded her.
“Ivy, I—”
“Let me focus,” Red cuts in. I flinch.
My chest hollows out, the air gone.
Someone’s hand lands on my shoulder, but I jerk away. Their voice is far off. Tinny. I don’t even hear half of what’s being said. Voices rise and fall around me, a blur of overlapping questions and accusations. Someone saysRip’s name. Someone says “attack.” Taren tries to describe what she saw: me screaming at an open window.
But all I can see is Ivy’s blood matting her hair and the horror of the ravens attacking her.
I should’ve gone. I should’ve gone with Rip when he first reached for me.
If I had…
Red glances up, his jaw tight. “You should’ve come to me.”
He doesn’t understand. I had no time.
“Or me,” Rowen growls from the corner. His shoulders are rigid, eyes burning into me. The silence before he speaks feels worse than the volume. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hearing the vamp?”
His voice cracks the air like a whip.
I look between him and Red, but I can’t make my mouth work. I’m still too stunned that it even happened. Rip spoke to me. He wasin my head.
The ground tilts beneath me. My heartbeat throbs in my ears.
All I can see is Ivy’s blood… Ivy’s blood… Ivy’s blood…
“You knew. Didn’t you?” Rowen cuts in, voice cold. His fists are clenched at his sides, his breathing too fast, too loud.
He’s never been this angry with me.
“You knew something was happening, and you said nothing.”
Something snaps tight between us—like a rope straining to hold.
The words tumble out of me. “I thought it was because of the half-blood, alright? I thought the whispers—”
“Whispers? Like those voices you keep trying to pretend you don’t hear?”
“No! I mean, yes. I thought that was what my mom went through. That I…” I flinch away. “But this wasn’t like that. He’s never reached me like this. It just… happened. One second it’s the normal static, the next it’s him, telling me to come outside. Saying I’m his.”
A growl rips up Rowen’s throat. “You arenothis,” he says fiercely.
I let out a broken, hollow laugh. “Aren’t I though? He branded me.”
Rowen’s jaw locks. He steps forward once—then stops, like he doesn’t trust what he’ll do if he moves closer. “That mark doesnotmake you his any more than it defines you, Tobias. Don’t you dare give him that power. God, why didn’t you—you should’ve told me!”
His nostrils flare. For a second, I think he’s going to yell again, but instead, he turns and storms out of the room; the door slams so hard it rattles the walls. Two shifters follow, but I don’t see who. I don’t care who. The sound of their receding footsteps shatters my heart.
The tether between Rowen and me trembles. I can feel his anger like static against my skin, the tension of it humming through my veins. It doesn’t break. It never does. But the thread burns, hot and alive, a reminder of what I’m risking.
But is he really so angry with me because I couldn’t give them a warning? I had seconds—literally seconds—to even process what was happening, let alone ask for help.
I exhale shakily, looking at my shoulder, and that’s when I see it.
“Taren.”
