“I think I’d remember if I drank blood!”
His jaw ticks. “Did you overhear anything at the club? Any kind of plan that would explain—?”
“No,” I cut in. My heart kicks against my ribs, hating the way he’s staring at me. “I’ve told you everything.”
“Trivanka said you were the first. So they must’ve said something around you. Told you something.”
“I don’t know anything!” I shriek. “Rip never said anything! When he marked me, it wasn’t something he really thought through.”
Taren tilts her head. “What do you mean?”
“I saw him and Orem talking, then they came over to me in a rush. Rip forced me to take a drink, which drugged me. Then he drew the mark with his blood, and Orem sealed it. That’s it. That’s all I know! I swear.”
Rowen’s hand finds my knee under the table, steadying me. His glare toward Grant could strip paint.
“Was it Rip’s idea, or Orem’s?” Taren asks.
“I don’t know.”
“I’m asking because it might help us understand the motive. If it was Rip’s, we can assume it’s just because he’s a selfish bastard who wants things for himself. If it’s Orem’s….” She trails off. “There’s a lot of things he can do with his magic. Dark things.”
“And trauma can make us forget,” Grant presses. “So you still might remember something if you try.”
“Grant, enough,” Rowen snaps. “He’s told us what he knows.”
Grant doesn’t look away. I shrink into myself, throat tight.Does he know about the voices?Either way, it’s not from the mark—it’s because of what I am. A half-blood. And it’s only going to get worse too. Soon, I’ll start seeing things. Throwing things. Screaming at people who aren’t there.
It’s exactly what happened to my mom.
I want to cry. How could the universe tie me to Rowen, to these amazing people, when my life is completely unraveling? I don’t want to leave them. I don’t want to lose them.
I don’t want to become the thing everyone is afraid of.
The meeting drags on—talk of contacting nearby packs, Jericho offering to reach out to Kaine again, and forming some sort of strategy for defense. It’s all background noise compared to the ringing in my ears. Once again, this is all about me. My mark.
As the pack disperses, Red comes over to me. “Do you still have the bracelet?”
I nod, my fingers curling so tight my nails cut into my palms.
“Start wearing it. Or let one of us wear it.” It’s not a suggestion. “Once Foxx hears Trivanka is dead, he’s going to assume it was us. Which means they might come for Jericho.”
I bite my lip.
“And Grant’s right—if you remember anything, or if anything… weird happens, you need to come to us. Got it?”
I stare at him, convinced he knows about the moment in the darkroom too. Shame fills me. How can I feel like I’m letting these people down and risking their lives at the same time?
“Come outside with me?” Rowen says softly.
He makes each of us a cup of hot cocoa, then snags a blanket from the couch and takes me outside to be alone. The air is cold and clear, the sky a pale winter blue.
We curl up on the porch swing, drinking the hot chocolate. An owl hoots somewhere in the distance, and the world feels quiet for once. Mostly, anyway. The heaviness of the conversation still lingers.
Rowen’s fingers brush over my hand. “You okay?”
“I don’t know. Are you?”
His expression is unreadable. “Better now that you know the truth about us.”
