Something shifts in his expression. Almost a smile, though his face doesn’t seem built for the shape.
“You’re not ordinary.” He releases my arm finally, steps back, and the loss of his warmth leaves me colder than the room’s temperature can explain. “But you’re right. We need to move. Now. Before?—”
He stops.
Goes utterly still in a way that isn’t human, isn’t natural, isn’t anything I can prepare for.
“What—”
“Quiet.”
One word. Command and warning both. I shut my mouth and watch his nostrils flare, his head tilt, his entire body orient toward the door—a predator catching a scent.
“We have company.” His hands drops to his axes. “Whatever happens—” His gaze finds mine, something fierce burning in its depths. “Don’t let anyone else touch your marked hand.”
I don’t have time to ask why.
The door explodes inward.
