Taren turns, eyes going wide. “Stars above.”
She yanks the sleeve up higher, getting a better look. The mark has changed. The lines are darker, bolder even, and the edges of it glow red.
I’d always assumed the red color was Rip’s blood, but what if it’s not? What if that’s Orem’s magic?
“When did this happen?”
“Just now. Today.”
Taren’s voice fades. “He’s done something.”
“Obviously!” I snap, tears brimming my vision. “How do we get rid of it!”
She shakes her head. “I-I don’t know. I don’t even know how he did this. Changed it, I mean.”
Her expression hardens, and she leaves the room, muttering something under her breath.
Red finishes with Ivy, murmuring something low and soft. She nods, still dazed, but at least the color is returning to her face. The shock fading. The cut on her forehead is mostly healed.
When she looks at me, I turn away fast, shame burning hot under my skin. Will she ever forgive me? It’s my fault she was hurt.
Red and Jasmine clean up the supplies. Jasmine’s muttering to herself about doubling border patrols. Somewhere in the house, I can hear Forest’s low voice on the phone, calling other packs.
The house has gone from tense and on edge to absolutely unbearable. The fragile bubble of safety we thought we had just popped, scattered across the floor like broken glass. Rip knows where I am now. He knows who I’m with. And he won’t wait long before coming back.
I can almost feel him pressing at the edge of my mind—like an echo in a darkened hallway. If I could just push back. Break whatever’s tying us together.
That’s it.
Maybe Icanbreak it.
Maybe I just have to cut it out.
My vision narrows to the medical tray. The room blurs, sound falling away. My hands won’t stop shaking, and the mark burns like it was just placed there minutes ago, not months.
It’s ruining everything. He’s ruining everything.
I can’t let him ruin anything else.
I lunge for the tray and snatch the scalpel.
Jasmine gasps in horror as I twist away. One quick breath, then I drag the blade down my shoulder.
Red light flares from the cut, bright and violent, and pain sears through me like lightning. The scalpel clatters to the floor.
I drop with it, clutching my shoulder as the mark pulses, molten-hot, like it’s alive.
“Fuck!”
“Dammit, Toby,” Red mutters, kneeling beside me. He covers my arm with gauze before quickly applying his healing magic. His eyes are furious. “Why did you do that?”
“I don’t want it!”
“So you think you can cut it off?” he snaps. “Don’t you think I would’ve offered that if you could?”
I turn away, lip trembling.
“You can’t cut a mark like this off,” Red explains. “It’s protected, remember?”
