I freeze, every muscle locking like chains just cinched me. The sound rips through me like claws to the spine, sinking deep, tearing everything open. My lungs seize, my chest caves, and I can’t breathe past the punch of it.
I turn toward her on instinct, like every string in my body’s been tied to that sound and yanked tight.
Hold. Touch.
Her tears shine because of me and my rage collapses under it, leaving me choking on the need to put her back together. To drop to my knees and press my hands over the crack I made and swear I’ll never fucking do it again.
Every muscle in me pulls toward her, violent and helpless.
I search her for any injury but I find none visible to the eye, and a small part of me eases.
This girl… She’s gorgeous. The definition of perfection and purity. She looks like something that belongs in a display case, porcelain and untouchable, like a doll.
My little doll…
“No,” I grit, throat raw, tearing the thought apart. “What the fuck is happening? What are you doing?”
Dark hair. Defiant eyes.
Wild and crazy and mine.
My mate.
“It’s not working,” Knight growls.
“It will,” Creed fires back.
“He’s losing it,” Sinner adds.
“He won’t!” Creed barks, his tone then lowering with the command, “Do it. Now!”
No!
I fight against them. Every ounce of energy I have surges, but then something as soft as silk drags across my skin, and the fight drains out of me before I can even claw it back. The sensation carves straight through, splitting me open and stitching me into something else.
My whole body seizes, shudders, spine snapping tight like a bow pulled too far.
It isn’t just the touch.
It’s the recognition. It’s a brand carved, a tether locking into place with the kind of certainty I’ve never known. The air itself strokes me softly, but beneath it is steel chains, and vows older than time.
My eyes jerk up and slam into hers. The girl.
Her green eyes pierce mine, a calm of emerald, stabbing into me until breathing feels like a crime.
Her other hand joins the first, pressing into the opposite cheek. My power answers instantly, violent and uncontrollable.
Heat explodes from my chest in waves that shake the floor, and my vision sears white.
“Is it working?” someone asks.
“Is it killing him?” Another.
“Quiet,” a third voice whispers. “Look at his wounds. They’re sealing.”
“He’s getting stronger.”
“He feels the truth now. There is no denying.”
