Marked for Betrayal
Erica Owenbetrayed by the gameBetrayalbetrayedbetrayed, but not defeated
A scout from a neighboring pack, one thought long scattered in the war.
In his hand was a sigil drawn in dirt and blood. Not of the Broker, not of Striker.
A new mark, unfamiliar but pointed directly at us.
Mia stepped forward, knelt beside him, and read the final breath he whispered into her ear. Her face changed not in fear but in recognition.
Something she thought buried had just clawed its way out of the grave.
“We’re not done,” she said, rising to her feet. “And this time, it isn’t about me.”
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