The pull

Chapter seven

That night, sleep didn’t come easy.

Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the mark on my skin pulse—slow at first, then deeper, like some heartbeat that wasn’t mine syncing with my own.

I tossed and turned, fighting the heat rising under my ribs, the cold crawling down my spine. By 3 a.m., I gave up on rest and sat at the edge of my bed, staring at my hands as faint trails of smoke curled off my palms.

Not black smoke. Not white.

Something in between—like shadow learning how to breathe.

“Stop fighting it.”

Malik’s voice slipped through the dark, even though I hadn’t seen him materialize. He didn’t step out of a shadow this time. He didn’t rise from the floor or appear in the mirror.

He just was.

Suddenly, he sat beside me on the bed, hoodie draped low, chains gleaming faint in the moonlight. His presence pressed the air down around us.

“You think I want this?” My voice cracked. “Whatever you’re doing to me—whatever’s happening—”

“It’s happening because you let me in.”

His gaze dropped to my collarbone, where the mark pulsed like a living ember. “And now it’s binding.”

I swallowed hard. “Binding to what?”

“To me,” he whispered. “To what I am.”

I shivered. Not from cold—from the truth sliding into place like a key turning in a lock.

He leaned closer, the mattress dipping as he braced one hand behind me. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.” A hint of a smirk touched his lips. “But fear can be useful.”

I pulled away, but his hand caught my wrist gently—gentle for him, at least.

“You controlled your friend,” he said. “Without calling my name, without prayer, without direction.”

“That wasn’t control,” I argued. “I didn’t mean to—”

“But you did.”

His thumb traced the underside of my wrist, cold enough to make my skin rise. “Power doesn’t care about your intentions, baby. It responds to desire.”

“I didn’t want to hurt Tasha.”

“Did you want her to leave you alone?”

The question hit too close.

Too sharp.

Too truthful.

I looked away.

Malik leaned in until his breath touched my ear. “You’re changing because you’re meant to. The mark woke up because you needed it.”

A knock shook the apartment door, making both of us freeze.

Three hard pounds.

Too firm to be a neighbor.

Too late for a friend.

Malik’s eyes flared red, dim but dangerous. “Stay here.”

He vanished—not smoke, not fade—just gone.

My breath came sharp and shallow as the knocking grew louder, faster. A voice muffled through the wood.

“Renaye! Open the door! Please!”

Tasha.

My stomach dropped. I stood, instinct pulling me toward her, guilt gnawing like an animal in my chest. I reached for the knob—

“Don’t.”

Malik appeared between me and the door, hand pressed flat against the wood, shadow leaking from his fingers.

“She came back,” he growled, eyes narrowing. “She felt the hole where you touched her mind. She’s afraid. Humans always return to what scares them.”

“Let her in,” I whispered. “She’s my friend.”

He lifted his gaze to mine. “She won’t be safe in here.”

“From you?” I challenged.

“From you.”

His words cracked something inside me.

Lightning flickered under my skin. My palms heated until the air smelled like burning cedar. Shadows coiled around my fingers like bracelets tightening.

“No,” I said firmly. “Let her in.”

His jaw clenched. Shadows rippled behind him.

“She’s fragile,” he warned. “You’re not.”

I reached for the lock—

And Tasha screamed.

A raw, terrified sound ripped straight from her throat. Malik’s hand slammed against the door, shadows swallowing the wood. My heart thudded so loudly I could barely breathe.

“Move,” I ordered.

Malik didn’t.

Instead, he listened.

The hallway fell silent.

No footsteps.

No breathing.

No Tasha.

He turned slowly.

“She’s gone.”

“Where?” I gasped.

Malik’s eyes burned. “Something else took her.”

The mark on my ribs flared with heat, painful this time, pulling me forward—as if calling me toward whatever darkness had followed her.

Malik grabbed my shoulders, voice low and urgent.

“Baby…

your power just called something ancient.”

And as the shadows curled tighter around my hands, I realized something chilling:

I hadn’t just been marked.

I’d become a beacon.