“Fated,” William breathes. “Wow. It’s an honor to meet you.”
My stomach twists again. Honor? Is he for real? I want to shrink into the wall. I can only pray he can’t still smell the vomit on me.
William studies me for a long time before turning back to Rowen. “Is he the reason we’re here, though?”
Rowen nods. “Part of it, yes. Jericho is wanted by the coven too, as you know.”
William steps closer, then hesitates. “May I see it for myself? I know a thing or two about ancient runes.”
Rowen warned me this would happen—the other alphas would need to see it for themselves before they believed the danger.
I turn away but pull my sleeve up.
William doesn’t touch me as he bends to examine the mark. “This is old magic. Layered. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were building.”He leans closer, squinting at the fine lines that shimmer beneath my skin. “Is that a Veil rune?”
Taren gasps. “Oh, my stars! Of course!” She scrambles through her notes, comparing them to the photos. Her eyes go wide.
Rowen frowns. “What’s a Veil rune?”
William clenches his jaw. “Essentially, a silencing rune. The more control the creator gains, the less Tobias will be able to speak about it. He won’t be able to warn us. Won’t even be able to say Rip’s name if the bond completes. It’s the oldest kind of slavery—make the victim your secret keeper.”
Rowen tugs my sleeve back down.
William straightens, jaw tight. “Fortunately for us, we know what we’re doing too. They don’t stand a chance when they come.”He turns to address his pack. All seven of them have lined up against the window, awaiting orders.
“Forest suggested a perimeter run first thing. Let’s haul our shit to the spare rooms and move out.”
They instantly obey. The house becomes loud with the sound of boots and bags moving around. But even as everything moves forward, the chill under my skin stays. The thrum in my skull vibrates, faint but unmistakable.
Rowen’s hand finds mine, grounding me again. His warmth cuts through the numbness for a moment.
“You still with me?” he murmurs.
I nod, though my voice barely works. “Yeah.”
I don’t say what I feel. I can’t. Because if Taren is right—if this thing is growing, eclipsing—I don’t know how long I will still be here. I don’t know how long I’ll be me.
And worse, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to talk about it.
35
ROWEN
It’s been two days since we figured out Orem’s goal with the marks is to create Eclipse Seals on humans.
My wolf hasn’t stopped growling since. The sound sits low in my chest like a warning hum, constant and sharp, no matter how I try to quiet it. I can’t focus. Can’t sleep. The only time my head clears is when Tobias is pressed against me in bed, his heartbeat slow and steady under my hand. But even that feels tainted now.
Rip’s shadow is always there, speaking to Tobias and pulling him further away. Tobias feels him constantly. Hears him constantly. And because of it, I can feel Tobias’s anxiety, his anger, his shame.
From what I can tell, Rip’s beating him to a pulp. Every hour I watch my mate go through another round of mental gymnastics trying to stay calm, to keep control. To appear fine. But his eyes keep flicking to nothing, his fingers twitching against invisible threads.
It kills me.
While he disappears to use the darkroom, I watch Taren pace in the living room. We’re all on edge with extra shifters on our property.
“How long do we have before something happens?” I ask.
She runs a hand through her hair. “I told you. I don’t know, Rowen. It’s impossible to know.”
