Chapter 27 · The Collector's Receipt

The red mark on my wrist burned so hard I nearly dropped the broken ring.

Not warm. Not itchy. Burned.

Like somebody had pressed a cigarette into the inside of my arm and held it there.

Ronan caught my elbow before my knees hit the stone floor. His hand was slick with blood. Most of it was his.

“Quinn.” His voice came out rough. “Look at me.”

“I am looking.” I stared at the mark anyway.

It had spread from the cracked ring onto my skin in thin red lines. A circle. Three claw cuts through it. Then a symbol I knew from old envelopes my mother used to hide under the loose board in our apartment closet.

The debt seal.

No. Not a debt seal.

Her debt seal.

The tunnels shook again.

Dust spilled from the ceiling. Somewhere deeper underground, something let out another roar. It wasn’t wolf. It wasn’t human. It sounded huge and wet and pissed off that somebody had woken it up.

Vera staggered against the ruined ritual table, one hand pressed to the blood soaking through her silver dress. Her perfect hair had come loose. There was dirt on her cheek. Good.