Chapter 25 · When the Mark Bites Back

Silas's hand closed around my wrist like a vise.

The moonmark flared under his palm. White light punched through his fingers and spread up my arm in a pattern I'd never seen before. Not the crescent I'd carried my whole life. This one had teeth. Jagged lines branching out like cracks in glass, reaching toward my shoulder, my throat, my chest.

I tried to pull away. Couldn't. His grip tightened and the light got brighter.

"There it is." His voice was soft. Almost reverent. "Your mother hid it well. Buried it under the mark you thought was yours. But it remembers what it's supposed to do."

Behind him, Ronan was pinned to the altar. Two enforcers held his arms. A third had a blade angled against his throat. His eyes locked on mine and I saw the red light flickering under his skin again. Trying to break through. Trying to reach me.

"Don't," he said. Just that. But I heard the rest. *Don't give him what he wants. Don't open it. Let me go.*

I wasn't going to let him go.

The door behind us groaned. Stone grinding on stone.