Chapter 7 · Her Debt Just Got Bigger

Kyle's fist hit the door again. Three sharp bangs that made the frame rattle.

I shoved my wrist under the faucet. Cold water, but the mark kept glowing through the stream like I'd swallowed a fucking flashlight. The silver light pulsed with my heartbeat and I could feel it now—not just heat but something moving under my skin, something that wanted out.

"Isla, open up."

I turned off the tap and grabbed a dish towel. Wrapped it tight around my wrist. The glow bled through the fabric anyway.

Great.

I yanked the door open. Kyle pushed past me before I could say a word, spun around and locked the deadbolt behind him. His eyes went straight to the towel.

"How bad."

"I didn't cut myself."

"That's not what I asked."

I pulled the towel back. The mark blazed brighter the second air hit it—three crescent moons stacked in a line, silver and sharp like someone had carved them with light. Kyle's face went flat.

"Shit."

"Yeah."

He stepped closer and I smelled smoke on his jacket. Not cigarette smoke. Burned rubber. "You need to sit down."

"I'm fine standing."

"Sit. Down.