CHAPTER 185
Ezekiel stood in the shadowed corner of an abandoned street, the night wind brushing against his face. He had long removed his crown, letting it vanish back to its sanctum, where no one could reach it. The faint hum of the lamppost above him flickered, casting long, wavering shadows over the pavement. The street was deserted—only a few stray cats prowled around, their eyes glinting gold in the dim light.
A lonely bench sat across from him, untouched. He'd been waiting there for over ten minutes now, and each second stretched his patience thinner. His jaw tightened. He shouldn't have trusted that faerie. Carmen promised to meet him here, at this exact address, but there was no trace of her.
The air felt heavier by the minute. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. His chest began to ache—a deep, pulsing throb that radiated from the mark over his heart. The claiming mark. His breath hitched as it burned like fire against his skin.
