CHAPTER 12: THE MARK

CHAPTER 12: THE MARK

I woke up feeling like I had been sleeping inside an oven.

My throat was dry, my skin felt unusually warm, and there was a strange throbbing sensation on the left side of my neck.

I slowly opened my eyes.

For a few seconds, I didn't know where I was.

Then everything came back.

The forest.

The villa.

The man.

His long nails digging into my neck.

Steele.

I immediately sat up.

The towel I had wrapped around myself loosened, and I quickly grabbed it before it fell completely. My breathing became heavier as I touched my neck.

The scar was still there.

I stood and walked toward the mirror.

There it was.

A dark, intricate mark spread across my skin like an ancient symbol. It wasn't shaped like an ordinary wound. There were curved lines connecting to one another, almost forming a pattern I couldn't understand.

I leaned closer.

"What the hell are you?"

I touched it carefully.

A sudden pain shot through my neck.

I pulled my hand away.

The mark seemed to pulse beneath my skin.

I stared at my reflection.

This wasn't there before.

And I knew exactly when it appeared.

The vampire.

My stomach tightened.

I had spent years studying supernatural creatures because I wanted to understand what happened to my family. Werewolves, vampires, shapeshifters, witches, demons—I'd read about things that most people would laugh at if I ever told them.

But reading about them was different from being attacked by one.

And now I had some kind of mark left by one.

I grabbed my phone from the bedside table.

There were several missed calls.

Kane.

I ignored them for a moment and opened my browser.

I typed:

ancient vampire mark on human neck

Hundreds of results appeared.

Most were useless.

Legends.

Fiction.

Forums written by people who claimed they had encountered vampires.

I scrolled through them until something caught my attention.

THE BLOOD MARK

I clicked.

According to the old folklore described on the page, certain vampires could leave a mark on humans through their blood. The mark could be used for several purposes depending on the vampire's lineage.

Tracking.

Feeding.

Claiming.

Or—

I stopped reading.

My eyes narrowed.

Creating a vessel.

I swallowed.

"What does that mean?"

I continued reading.

A vessel was described as a human body prepared to receive something belonging to a supernatural being. In some legends, the process could take days, months, or even years.

I immediately closed the page.

"No."

I shook my head.

"This is ridiculous."

I opened another article.

Then another.

The information varied, but the same idea kept appearing.

A vampire's mark was never accidental.

My phone suddenly rang.

I nearly dropped it.

Kane.

I answered.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked.

"Good morning to you too."

"Amber, I've been calling you since last night."

"I was busy."

"Busy doing what?"

"Investigating."

There was a pause.

"You went to El Víamonte without telling me, didn't you?"

I froze.

"How did you know?"

"Louie told me. He found out the location you were researching."

"Well, I'm alive."

"That's not the point!"

"I know."

Kane sighed.

"Are you hurt?"

I looked at the mark.

"No."

It was technically a lie.

I wasn't seriously injured, but something was definitely wrong.

"Then get to the station. We need to talk."

"I'll be there later."

"Amber—"

"I said later."

I ended the call before he could argue.

My attention returned to the mirror.

Something about the mark bothered me more than the pain.

It looked familiar.

Not from the books.

From somewhere else.

A memory.

A drawing.

I hurried to my desk and pulled out an old folder.

It contained everything I had collected about the plane crash.

Newspaper clippings.

Passenger lists.

Photographs.

Handwritten notes.

And one drawing.

The drawing I made when I was six.

I placed it beside the mirror.

The picture was crude, drawn with a child's hands.

A woman with long nails.

My mother.

My father.

The plane.

And behind the woman, a strange symbol.

My heart stopped.

I looked at the drawing.

Then at the mark on my neck.

They were almost identical.

"That's impossible."

I grabbed the paper with trembling hands.

For twenty-two years, I thought that symbol was nothing more than a child's imagination.

Maybe I had seen something and my brain had simply created a random shape to represent it.

But now—

The same symbol was on my skin.

Someone had left it there.

And that someone was the vampire.

A knock came from my front door.

I immediately put the drawing away.

"Who is it?"

"Me."

Steele.

I opened the door.

He was standing there wearing a black shirt and dark trousers, his expression as emotionless as ever.

But his eyes immediately went to my neck.

His face changed.

Only for a fraction of a second.

But I saw it.

"You've been here before," I said.

He didn't answer.

I stepped aside.

"Come in."

He entered and closed the door behind him.

"What happened to your neck?"

"You tell me."

His eyes narrowed.

"Show me."

I pulled my hair aside.

He stared at the mark.

His entire body went still.

"What is it?"

"Where did you get that?"

"You know exactly where."

"The vampire."

I nodded.

His jaw tightened.

"Did he say anything?"

"He called me Anna."

Steele looked away.

"Of course he did."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He remained silent.

I crossed my arms.

"Steele."

Nothing.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"That thing where you suddenly become a wall whenever the conversation gets uncomfortable."

His eyes met mine.

"You're becoming involved in something that is much bigger than you realize."

"I've been involved since I was six."

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because this time they know you're alive."

I stared at him.

"Who?"

"The vampires."

The word made the room feel colder.

"Why do they care about me?"

"They don't."

"Then why did one attack me?"

He looked at the mark again.

"Because someone told them about you."

"Stan?"

"No."

"Then who?"

Steele's expression hardened.

"I don't know."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I don't expect you to believe anything."

"Then tell me what that symbol means."

His silence answered me before his words did.

"You know."

"Yes."

My heart pounded.

"Then tell me."

He took a deep breath.

"That symbol belonged to an old vampire bloodline."

"Which bloodline?"

"The Black Shadow."

I remembered the name.

Stan had mentioned it the previous night.

The vampire group that rivaled their werewolf clan.

"You said they haven't been seen for four hundred years."

"They haven't."

"Then how did one find me?"

Steele looked at me.

"That's what I am trying to figure out."

I walked toward the desk and pulled out my old drawing.

I placed it in front of him.

His eyes immediately widened.

It was the first genuine reaction I had ever seen from him.

"You recognize it."

He didn't answer.

"You recognize this symbol."

"Where did you get this?"

"I drew it when I was six."

His gaze remained on the paper.

"You remember drawing this?"

"Yes."

"Everything?"

"Not everything. But I remember the woman."

His fingers curled into a fist.

"Steele."

He finally looked at me.

"That symbol wasn't drawn by you."

My brows furrowed.

"What?"

"You saw it."

"I don't understand."

"You didn't invent it. You saw it somewhere that night."

I stared at the drawing.

"But I don't remember seeing it."

"Your mind may have buried the memory."

I immediately remembered what he had done to me years ago.

"You erased part of my memory."

"No."

"You tried."

"Yes."

"And it didn't work."

He nodded.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"You're lying."

His eyes flashed gold.

"Amber."

I smiled.

"There. You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Trying to intimidate me."

"I'm trying to keep you alive."

"Then stop hiding things from me."

He stepped closer.

"I can't tell you everything."

"Why?"

"Because knowing too much can make you a target."

I laughed bitterly.

"Too late."

He looked at the mark.

"You're right."

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he said something that made my blood run cold.

"The vampire didn't mark you to kill you."

"Then what?"

He stared directly into my eyes.

"To find you."

I felt my stomach drop.

"Find me for what?"

"I don't know."

"You're sure?"

"No."

That answer scared me more than anything else.

Steele was always certain.

For the first time, he wasn't.

I looked at my reflection in the window.

The woman staring back at me was still the same detective who had spent years chasing answers.

But now there was something on her skin that belonged to a world she had only ever read about.

"What do we do?"

Steele's expression became serious.

"We go back to the villa."

I turned toward him.

"You just told me not to risk my life."

"I did."

"And now you're asking me to go back?"

"We won't go alone."

"Who else?"

He didn't answer immediately.

Then his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen.

His expression turned irritated.

"Who is it?"

"Stan."

I smiled.

"Answer it."

"I don't want to."

"Maybe he's calling to apologize."

Steele gave me a cold look.

"Stan has never apologized for anything in his entire life."

He answered.

"What?"

I couldn't hear Stan's voice, but whatever he said made Steele's expression change.

"What do you mean?"

A pause.

"Are you sure?"

Another pause.

Steele slowly looked at me.

"What happened?" I asked.

He ended the call.

"The bodies."

"What about them?"

"They're missing."

My eyes widened.

"What?"

"The two students' bodies disappeared from the morgue."

I stared at him.

"How is that possible?"

Steele's eyes turned gold.

"The same way the people in your plane disappeared."

The room suddenly felt unbearably cold.

I looked at the old drawing on my desk.

The woman.

The symbol.

The plane.

Then the mark on my neck.

For twenty-two years, I thought I was chasing the person who killed my parents.

Now I was beginning to realize something much worse.

Maybe they had been waiting for me to find them.

And maybe my survival twenty-two years ago wasn't an accident at all.

Maybe someone had made sure I survived.

And whoever did—

had a reason.