I didn't sleep.
Not because the city was loud—though it was—but because every time I closed my eyes, I felt it.
That invisible thread, pulling at my chest, tugging me toward him.
The Lycan King.
I sat cross-legged on the creaky floorboards of my tiny room above the apothecary, my wrist bare in the candlelight. The skin looked normal now, but I could still remember the glow—the symbol burned into me after our encounter.
It hadn't been a trick of the light.
I'd spent hours trying to scrub it away, even slicing the top layer of skin with my dagger. The mark healed instantly, leaving nothing but smooth flesh.
I hated it. I hated him.
A knock rattled the warped wooden door.
"It's open," I called, my voice rough from too many unanswered questions.
Liora stepped in, skirts swishing, her hair braided with little charms that chimed faintly as she moved. She was a witch in every sense—sharp-tongued, sharp-minded, and dangerous when provoked.
"You look like death," she said cheerfully, tossing a pouch of herbs onto my bed. "Here. Tea. For the bags under your eyes."
"I'm not tired."
"You're lying," she sang, plopping down across from me. Her smile faded when she saw my bare wrist. "What happened?"
I hesitated. "I ran into… someone."
Her eyes narrowed. "Someone, or him?"
I didn't answer. That was answer enough.
She leaned forward, snatching my wrist. Her fingers brushed over the skin, and her expression turned grim. "You've been marked."
"It's gone," I said quickly.
"It's never gone," she corrected. "Not until one of you is dead."
A cold weight settled in my stomach. "You're telling me this thing is permanent?"
"Not exactly." She let go of my wrist and started rummaging through her satchel. "You can break it—if you find the right kind of magic. But most people don't. They… adapt."
"I'm not adapting to anything involving him."
Liora arched a brow. "You sure about that? Because marks like this… they pull. Physically. Emotionally. And the more you fight it, the worse it gets."
I stood and started pacing. "So what, I'm stuck in some cosmic joke of a marriage contract until one of us dies?"
"Essentially."
I stopped pacing. "There has to be another way."
"There is," she said, pulling out a small clay vial sealed with black wax. "Drink this, and it'll block the bond for a while."
I reached for it, but she didn't let go. "Careful, Selene. Blocking the bond has side effects. You'll feel weak. Nauseous. You won't be able to shift."
"I can't shift anyway," I muttered.
She gave me a long, searching look, but didn't press. "Then take it. Just… don't overuse it."
I slipped the vial into my pocket. "Thanks."
A distant howl split the night—deep, resonant, and far too close to the city walls.
Liora's gaze flicked toward the sound. "You should leave tonight. The mark will draw him, and his wolves, straight to you."
I forced a smirk I didn't feel. "Let him come. I'm not running again."
"You say that now," she murmured, "but when the bond burns, you'll understand."
Before I could ask what she meant, another sound echoed through the streets—shouts, metal clashing, the unmistakable chaos of a fight.
Liora crossed to the window and peered out. "Well," she said, her tone far too calm, "looks like you won't have to wait long."
I joined her, leaning just far enough to see the torchlight glinting off armor. Wolves in human form—Kael's warriors—were spilling into the street below, cutting through the crowd with single-minded purpose.
Searching.
For me.
And at their head, striding like the city belonged to him, was the Lycan King himself.
Even from here, I could feel it—that pull tightening, dragging me toward him like a thread wrapped around my heart.
Liora glanced at me. "Drink the vial. Now."
But I couldn't move. Couldn't think.
Because Kael's head tilted back, silver eyes scanning the upper windows… and stopping on mine.
His mouth curved in the faintest, most dangerous smile.
And I knew—without a single word—that he'd found me.