Page 14 of Marked By His Touch

Isaac has changed. The lines around his eyes are more profound, and his shoulders slump a little more. He looks older, even though it’s been just a few weeks since we saw him last.

Katerina stands a few feet from the fireplace, her expression cold. Her eyes are locked on me, and she glares disdainfully at me. The silence is punctuated only by the occasional sigh and the soft crackle of the television in the corner.

Then, a woman I don’t know enters with a tray laden with steaming cups. The scent of chamomile and honey fills the air.

Things seem normal, just for a moment.

“Tea?” She asks; her voice is soft, and her blonde hair falls around her face, framing it.

Yes, please,” I say, taking the steaming cup from her.

Anything to break the silence.

“I see more women here,” I continue. I can feel my throat tightening as I speak.

I need to know what is going on.

Katerina narrows her eyes and nods. “Da,we pick updevushkafrom the Raven. Protect them.”

Isaac, his eyes as sharp as a hawk’s, nods in agreement. “The Raven’s got something cooking. I don’t know what, but more women have needed our help around town.” He clenches his jaw.

He reminds me of Alexander, always anticipating the next threat.

Across the room, Tatiana’s eyes meet mine. Her gaze is steady, a spark of defiance burning in their depths. I mouth the words,“Are you okay?”She nods, a fleeting smile tugging at her lips.

Alexander straightens, his brows furrowing, a shadow passing over his face. “I think we should talk in the morning. Katerina, please give Ava some dinner. Isaac, is there a room for us?”

My thoughts drift to Sarah, a pang of worry tightening in my chest. I want to help her, but there’s nothing I can do right now. It’s frustrating.

“Of course,” Isaac says, gesturing for one of the women to show us the way.

Alexander walks over and takes my hand, squeezing it hard. But somehow, his touch feels different tonight.It’s not him, it’s me.I’m tired of being helpless, of depending on him. It has nothing to do with him. It’s something deeper, a primal need to take care of myself, a fierce independence suddenly surging within me.

I put the cup of tea down, the warmth of the chamomile clashing with the cold knot of resolve in my gut.

“Where’s Zara?” I ask, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

“Training,” Tatiana says, a glance at her watch. “She never leaves the gym before midnight.”

The tea burns my tongue, but I don’t even notice. I set the cup aside and head down the hallway.

“Ava, where are you going?” Alexander says, his voice a low rumble that follows me down the hall. “Please eat something.”

“I’m not hungry,” I say.

Tatiana glances at me, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. A few other girls huddled on the couch exchange glances, their eyes widening.

I don’t care, I need to find Zara.

The hallway stretches before me like a labyrinth. I navigate the turns. I’m filled with an almost desperate need to find her.

How big is this place?

Finally, I find it—a large room on the second floor, a space transformed. It’s not a dance studio as I first thought. The mirrors lining the walls reflect the unsettling array of weapons that adorn them—blades, sticks, metal crowbars, and an arsenal of weapons I don’t even recognize. They make my skin crawl.

But I also feel a strange pull toward them, a longing to hold one, to feel the weight of its power.

I recognize Zara instantly, her dark hair ablaze against the shape lights of the room. Her green eyes gleam with a fierce intensity, her features sharp, her body a coiled spring.

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