My mate mark burned hard enough to make me nauseous. Every few beats, it yanked me toward the path Xavier had taken, a hook buried deep. I dragged my breath flat and shoved it down. Mama Delphine’s binding held me like wet cloth—clingy, patient, smug. She was in her chair, humming to her bones like always. Jax stood by the open door, jaw tight, ready to bolt or break something. He didn’t know which yet. “Here he come,” Mama sing-songed, her one good eye swivelling towards the door. “Come stomp-stomp like a bull what don’t know he neutered.” The fog didn’t hush for him. It rattled. We heard Lucian long before we saw him, branches snapping, boots punching through mud, a man who came like a problem on purpose. He was yelling before he reached the shack, swearing that somebody would pay. “Don’t,” I warned, because the last thing I needed was her mouth making this worse. She grinned at me, all gums and trouble. “Hush, bébé. We gon’ have us a visit.” Lucian hit the porch like a
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