All Chapters of The Mark You Hide: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

21 Chapters

Wrong Door

MaraI knew it was a bad idea the moment I turned off Main and killed my headlights behind Doyle’s.Not “I’ll regret this in the morning” bad. More like “this is how people end up missing” bad. The alley was narrow, half gravel and half cracked asphalt, and the security light above the dumpster kept blinking on and off. I parked anyway, hands steady, stomach not so much, because I’m stubborn and I ignore warnings, even when I know better.My phone buzzed in my palm.UNKNOWN: Back door. Don’t knock. Two minutes.I stared at the message long enough to consider driving away and pretending I never got it. Then I checked the time. 11:47 p.m. A weeknight. The kind of hour where the only people still out either work nights or make choices they can’t put on their resumes.“Two minutes,” I muttered. “So polite.”I flipped the visor down to check my face and make sure there were no remnants of my late night snack still lingering. Tanned skin, dark eyes, and a wild lion's mane of black hair greet

Tension

MaraCrowe.The name hit like a stamp on every file I’d been carrying around in my head. Crowe Construction was on two fire scenes, three permit pulls, and a dozen “nothing to see here” shrug-offs from people who suddenly couldn’t remember basic facts. And now I had it—spoken in a backroom like it belonged to someone you could threaten, not a company you could sue.I stayed glued to the crack in the door, shoulder pressed to the greasy wall. The voice memo in my pocket kept recording, because at least one part of me was still trying to be smart.Inside, Coat Guy clicked his tongue. “Crowe’s been sloppy. That’s the problem with letting humans think they’re useful.”Big Guy—Punchy-Knuckles—laughed low. “Humans built the pipeline for you. Humans laundered it. Humans burned the place when you asked.”My stomach flipped. Burned the place. Like it was taking out trash.Coat Guy snapped, “We didn’t ask for that last one. That fire wasn’t ours.”“Sure,” Big Guy said. “And the missing kid wasn’

Inhuman

MaraGage’s eyes lifted, and the crack in the door stopped feeling like cover. It felt like he could see straight through cheap paint and my bad choices.I eased back an inch at a time. The tile under my boots was slick, the air sharp with bleach and fryer grease. I kept my shoulders loose, because panic makes noise, and noise gets you caught.My keys were between my fingers, the points digging into my palm like that would matter if a predator decided I was in its way. I kept the voice memo rolling in my pocket, screen black, mic hot. If I got out with clean audio, I’d have proof Crowe Construction wasn’t just crooked—it was tied to something organized, something that talked about laws and territory like it owned the map. The smart move was to run. The Mara move was to stay long enough to catch one solid name, then bolt before the door opened. My pride told me I could handle it. My gut disagreed.Inside, Coat Guy kept talking like he could talk his way out of being scared.“We can’t af

Caught

MaraThe second heads snapped toward the door, my body chose for me.I didn’t wait to see if the knob turned. I didn’t wait to confirm whether the calm, dangerous voice belonged to the only man in the room who looked like he could break bones without getting his heart rate up. I just moved.I backed off the wall, quiet for one half-beat, then pivoted and ran.The service hallway narrowed as I sprinted, shoulders grazing stacked beer cases, my boots slipping on tile that smelled like bleach and old grease. Behind me, I heard the backroom door slam open. A sharp shout followed—Coat Guy, panicked—and then the heavy, controlled footfall of someone who didn’t have to rush to catch prey.The music from the bar hit me as I burst through the kitchen entrance—bass, laughter, the clatter of dishes—like normal life was trying to pretend I wasn’t about to get murdered behind a building.I shoved past a cook who swore at me. I didn’t stop. I cut left, looked to see if the men chasing me were still

Tether

Mara“You’re mine until I decide you’re safe.”He said it like it was policy, not a threat—like he’d stamped my forehead and filed me under “handled.”I stared up at him, pinned against the cold metal of my car, his hand locked around my wrist. Close enough to feel his heat. Close enough to hate that my body noticed it.“Yours,” I repeated. “Do you hear yourself?”His eyes didn’t blink. “Yes.”“Cool. Love the confidence. Hate the part where you trap women in parking lots.”“This isn’t kidnapping.”“Right,” I snapped. “Because you gave it a different label.”His jaw tightened like my sarcasm was a delay he hadn’t scheduled. “If you keep talking, you’ll attract attention.”“We’re behind a bar,” I shot back. “Attention is the business model.”He shifted his stance, blocking the alley exit without even looking. Not dramatic—automatic. Like he’d done this before and didn’t need to think.“Okay,” I said, forcing my voice steadier. “Explain what’s happening.”“You witnessed something you were

Blood on Your Tongue

MaraHe bit down like it was nothing.For half a second I stared at his hand, at the dark line of blood that welled up and ran over his knuckles. Even though I just watched him do it, my brain still tried to file it under normal injuries. Bar fight. Stupid guy showing off. But nothing about him was normal, and the way the blood smelled—sharp, clean, almost metallic—made my stomach pitch.“Are you insane?” I snapped.His eyes didn’t leave mine. “Open your mouth.”“No.”He lowered his hand, blood dripping onto the gravel between our boots. “Then you’ll run.”“I might,” I said, even though I knew he’d catch me. “Or I’ll scream. Or I’ll do something that ruins your night.”“That watcher will shoot you if you scream,” he said, voice flat.The words hit harder than the cold. My gaze flicked past his shoulder again. The figure by the truck hadn’t moved. Still watching. Still waiting.I forced my chin up. “So what, you’re saving me by doing… whatever this is?”“Yes.”“That’s not an explanation

Snap

GageThe second her lips touched my blood, the tether should have settled like a brand and gone quiet. Temporary. Useful. A blunt tool for a human who’d stumbled into pack business.Instead it hit like a strike to the ribs.Heat. Pressure. A hard, instant awareness of her that had no business existing. My wolf surged up from under my skin, furious and hungry, and I had to clamp down so fast my teeth ached. I kept my hand at her mouth because pulling away felt like tearing something open, and that made no sense. A protection mark doesn’t do this. It doesn’t snap into place and grab back.Sure, she was attractive, but now with my blood on her lips, I saw her for the true natural beauty she was. Black hair shifting slightly with the wind. Her big eyes locked on mine. I had to fight the desire to kiss her. Her fingers dug into my forearm. She swayed. She was breathing hard, eyes wide, but it wasn’t the usual panic. It was recognition. My blood had met something inside her and answered.Il

Prison

MaraI woke up on crisp white sheets that smelled like detergent trying too hard.For a second I didn’t know where I was. My brain reached for Doyle’s, the shattered window, the gold eyes, the taste of blood—then my stomach rolled and I remembered everything at once. The room wasn’t my apartment. It wasn’t a hospital either. It was too quiet, too clean, and the air had that faint bite of pine and smoke like someone dragged the outside in and refused to let it leave.I sat up fast and immediately regretted it.Heat rippled through my chest, not fever exactly, more like my nerves were turned up too high. My heartbeat wasn’t just loud; it was rude. Every thump seemed to echo off the walls. I pressed a hand to my sternum like I could shove it back into normal.“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay. Not dying. Yet.”My clothes were gone. I wore an oversized gray T-shirt and sweatpants that definitely weren’t mine. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, scanning the room like it might explain itself

Rules

GageTwo guards stand at the end of the guest wing hall. They straighten when they see me. Good. Respect is easier to maintain than regain.“Rotation?” I ask.“Two on the door. Two outside the window line,” one says. Young. Eager. Trying not to stare at the dried blood on my knuckles.“Names.”“Rook and Dane inside. Mason and Kyler on the yard.”Good, Mason is my Beta, so having him in this current rotation puts my restless mind at ease, well, as much as it can be.I nod once. “No one speaks to the witness. No one approaches the door unless Wren calls for you. If she asks for water, you bring it and you set it inside without stepping over the threshold. Understood?”“Yes, Alpha.”“And if anyone asks why the hall is locked down?”The second guard answers, steady. “Maintenance issue. Pipe burst.”“Good.” I pass them and keep walking. “If you smell unfamiliar human scent within twenty yards, you tell me first. Not the council. Not your cousin. Me.”Both men answer at once. “Yes, Alpha.”M

Leverage

MaraGage didn’t give me time to argue. One minute I was in that guest room with Wren staring at me like I’d grown a second head, and the next, the door opened and the Alpha filled the frame.“Shoes,” he said.“I’m wearing socks,” I answered. But he gave me a look that I didn't feel like arguing with, so I slipped on my shoes.“Move.”“Where?”“Somewhere the council can’t reach in two minutes.”That got my attention. “The council?”He grabbed my wrist—firm, not painful—and pulled me into the hall. Two wolves stood guard. Big, blank-faced, watching me like I was a spark near gasoline.“You can’t keep dragging me around like luggage,” I hissed.Gage didn’t slow. “Do you want to stay breathing?”“I’d also like my civil rights intact.”He moved fast through the packhouse, turning corners like he’d planned them. The place was bigger than I’d seen from my room—old wood, stone, wide halls—and full of people pretending not to stare. Conversations cut off as we passed. Eyes tracked us. A pack,

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