Chapter 11 · The Traitor’s Mark

Rafe slammed one hand against the tunnel wall and nearly dropped.

I caught him around the waist. "Don't you dare fall on me."

His breath tore against my ear. Hot. Uneven. Blood soaked through his sleeve, and black veins crawled up his neck beneath the skin.

"Move," he growled.

"You move. I'm the one keeping you upright."

"Vera."

"What? You gonna threaten me again? Save your breath. You don't have enough left."

He shoved away from the wall. His boot hit empty ground, and his shoulder crashed into mine. The tunnel twisted around us, so narrow my back scraped stone while his chest pressed against mine.

For one sharp second, his mouth hovered beside mine.

His eyes were open, but they weren't focused. The poison had swallowed too much of his vision. His wolf was fighting it.

The poison was winning.

"You can't see," I said.

"I can see you."

"You just walked into a wall."

"The wall moved."

"The wall's been here longer than your entire bloodline."

A silver arrow punched through the stone beside Rafe's head.

He moved before I could breathe. His arm hooked around my waist and dragged me down.