All Chapters of Marked By The Four: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

For a long moment, no one said anything.Rafe’s hand stayed over mine, warm and steady, while Calder lingered at my other side - close enough that his heat sank into my skin, but far enough that he wasn’t crowding me. Their wolves hummed under their ribs, restless and protective, the way you’d hold something fragile but sacred.Rafe brushed his thumb across my cheek. “We’ll stand with you in whatever comes next. All of it.” His voice dropped, gentle but heavy. “But you don’t have to decide anything tonight.”My throat tightened. “I’ll need to figure this out,” I whispered.Figure myself out. Figure the Codex out. Figure out what the hell it meant to be the last Thornborne heir after losing a child I didn’t even have the chance...Calder exhaled - a slow, deep, grounding breath. “Then tomorrow will help.”I blinked at him. “Tomorrow?”He hesitated for half a heartbeat. “We’ll have a visitor.”Rafe straightened slightly, interest sparking in his eyes. Calder continued: “A witch. A good

Maddox POVThe moment Calder stepped outside to greet Elara, the sky shifted.The moon - normally silver-white even on its worst nights - bled into a deep, unnatural crimson. A heavy, low hum rippled across the land, and every wolf in a fifty-mile radius felt it. My own wolf lifted his head and snarled, hackles up.Rafe stiffened beside me. Jaxon halted mid-step, eyes locked on the treeline. The air dropped ten degrees.“Red moon.” Jaxon muttered, voice low. “That’s never good.”“No shit,” I growled.Elara’s arrival had barely settled the dust, and already the night was deciding to test us.We stood outside the ruined packhouse, watching the forest line where shadows prowled between the trees - too many footsteps, too many scents. Not friendly.Rafe’s nostrils flared. “Rogue pack. North ridge.”“No,” I corrected, my voice dropping darker. “Three packs. And they’re not here to negotiate.”Jaxon cracked his neck, grin sharp and vicious. “Let me guess. Word spread that Varrick is dead,

Evelynn POV The moment the front doors shut behind the boys, the packhouse fell into a strange, humming quiet.Too quiet.Elara rolled her shoulders once, the air shimmering faintly around her. Calder stood between us like a silent, broad-shouldered guardian, but even he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t curious - or wary - of the witch’s power.Elara inhaled deeply. “Alright,” she said, her voice shifting - not louder, but heavier. “Let’s get to work. There is no time to waste.”Before I could ask what she meant, she stepped forward and pressed her palm against the nearest burned wall.Calder stood beside me like a silent wall of muscle and tension. His hand hovered near my back without touching - torn between giving me space and wrapping me in his arms. His wolf was so close to the surface I could feel its heat.I didn’t miss the way he watched Elara either. - Not with lust. But with wary affection. Familiarity.The same way someone might watch an old friend they trust to walk straight

The world yanked sideways. Not painfully. Just suddenly. One heartbeat I was staring at Elara. The next I stood in a forest clearing.Night air. Wet moss. The faint burn of old ward magic.A place I’d never seen. Except… my wolf murmured, “No. We have been here.”A small stone cottage crouched under twisted oaks, half-hidden by thorns so thick they looked grown, not planted. Moonlight dripped over its roof like silver blood.A secret place. A safehouse.I took one step forward and the vision snapped sharply into focus. A woman stood at the door. - Not Elara. Not the witch. - My mother.My heart tripped. She looked younger than I remembered. Fierce. Determined. Holding a tiny bundle wrapped in a moon-patterned cloth.Holding me.Her voice was a whisper, breaking with fear. “Hide her. Please. She cannot be found.”A man continued, deep and sorrowful. My father.“She’ll come for the child,” he said. “She always comes for Thornborne blood.”My mother pressed her forehead against the cotta

Rafe POVThe moment the thing slammed into us, the air buckled.It wasn’t a creature. Not really. More like a smear of darkness given teeth and hatred, a shape made of wrongness itself - cold enough to freeze breath in my lungs, sharp enough to slice through the bond for one horrifying heartbeat.Jaxon staggered back with a snarl, claws ripping free. Maddox nearly vaulted over the chair. I grabbed Calder by the back of his shirt before he could throw himself between Eve and the thing.“Elara!” he roared.The witch was already moving.Her palms snapped upward - silver light streaking through the hall like lightning. It struck the shadow, splitting it into tendrils of black smoke, but they reformed instantly, twisting like serpents hungry for blood.“It’s not whole,” Elara rasped. “Just a fragment-”“It’s enough,” Jaxon bit out.The damn thing lunged again. Straight for Evelynn.Calder shifted halfway - claws tearing through his fingertips as he dove in front of her. The shadow hit him