The mark

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Chapter 5 — The Mark

The morning after Aunt Dee’s dinner, I woke up drenched in sweat.

My sheets clung to me like they were trying to keep me from leaving. The air was thick with the smell of cedar and smoke — Malik’s scent — even though I didn’t see him anywhere.

For the first time in weeks, my room was quiet. Too quiet.

I stumbled into the bathroom, flipped on the light — and froze.

There, running from my collarbone down to my ribs, was a black mark. Not ink. Not bruise. It shimmered faintly under the light, twisting like smoke trapped beneath my skin.

My hand trembled as I touched it. Heat pulsed under my fingertips — steady, rhythmic, alive.

And when I whispered, “Malik?” the mirror fogged instantly.

Letters carved themselves through the mist like invisible fingers writing on glass:

I’m here.

I backed away, heart pounding, but part of me — the part that missed the safety of his presence — felt something close to relief.

The knock at my door nearly made me scream.

“Renaye?” It was Tasha’s voice. “Open up, girl. I know you home.”

I hesitated. Malik’s voice curled around my ear, low and possessive.

She don’t need to see you. You’re changing. You’re mine now.

But guilt tugged harder. I unlocked the door.

Tasha stood there, hair wrapped, eyes swollen from crying. “You didn’t answer all night. I thought—”

She stopped mid-sentence, eyes dropping to my chest. “What’s that on your neck?”

I tugged the hoodie closed. “Nothing. Rash.”

She frowned. “Rash don’t glow.”

Before I could respond, Malik’s reflection flickered behind me in the mirror by the door — just for a second, but long enough for Tasha’s breath to hitch.

Her lips parted. “What was that?”

My voice came out low, unfamiliar. “You didn’t see anything.”

Her face went blank. Her shoulders relaxed. “I didn’t see anything,” she repeated.

It took me a moment to realize — that wasn’t her talking.

That was me making her say it.

I stepped back, heart racing. Malik’s laugh filled the room, deep and smooth. “You’re learning.”

“What did you do to me?” I whispered.

He appeared then, right behind me, his hand sliding around my waist. “You wanted to be safe. I’m just giving you power to protect yourself.”

“This isn’t protection. It’s control.”

He tilted his head, eyes glowing faint red. “It’s balance, baby. You call, I answer. You breathe, I move. You speak…” He smiled. “And they listen.”

I turned toward Tasha, who was staring blankly, waiting — like her mind was half asleep. “Tasha, go home,” I said quietly.

She nodded once. “Okay.”

She left without another word.

The second the door closed, my knees gave out. I pressed my hands to the floor, shaking.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” I whispered.

Malik crouched beside me, his hand brushing the back of my neck. “You didn’t mean to speak it into power. That’s all. You’re not cursed, Renaye. You’re chosen.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to feel safe in the way he made me feel when the world ignored me — but the air around us pulsed too heavy, too wrong.

When I looked down at my hands, faint smoke curled from my palms.

Malik smiled, pleased. “See? The mark’s waking up. You’re starting to carry me now.”

He kissed my forehead, voice like a promise and a warning all at once.

“Soon, baby… you won’t need me to appear at all.”

And when I looked in the mirror again — I believed him.

Because my reflection didn’t move when I did.

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