Page 128 of Bitten, Marked, Obsessed

And he knows it now.

“You don’t have to hate what you don’t understand, Stefan.”

His eyes meet mine again and this time, they’re red around the edges. Raw. Ashamed.

“I don’t hate you,” he says. “I just don’t think I belong in your world anymore.”

I nod slowly. “Maybe you never did.”

I push off the gate. My hand brushes the stone, cold and rough under my fingers. I turn to leave.

But his voice stops me.

“Kendall.”

I pause.

“Yeah?”

He hesitates, like he’s not sure if he has the right to say what he’s about to say.

“I’m glad you’re alive.”

The words are thick. Honest.

I don’t turn back. Don’t say anything right away. Just let the quiet settle around them, heavy and final. Then I speak. “You too.” And I walk away.

I don’t feel lighter. Or better. Or stronger. But I feel done.

And for now, that’s enough.

Outside, Callum’s waiting.

I slide into his arms like I never left.

“Ready?” he asks.

I nod into his shoulder. But my voice is tight when I answer.

“No. But I will be.”

Because the Hollowed didn’t die with Adora. It’s still hunting. And I’m not done fighting, I’ll be ready.

50

CALLUM

The metallic stink of blood still clings to my gums when the first footsteps crunch through the debris behind us. Kendall’s spine stiffens against my arm before I even turn. Smart girl.

Five wolves step out of the pines—two in tattered leathers, three still half-shifted with claws out. The tallest, a russet-furred brute with a scar splitting his lip, nods at the fresh starburst burns puckering my forearms. “Heard you cut throat ties with Mathis. You rallying a pack or just playing house with the silver-streaked Bolvi?”

Kendall’s fingers lace with mine, thumb digging into the battle-grime caked over my knuckles. Her pulse thrums against my palm—fast but steady. I keep my shoulders relaxed, the alpha posture Mathis drilled into me since I first sprouted claws at thirteen. “Mathis breathes down your neck one too many times, Nik?”

The scarred shifter—Nikolai—snorts. “They’re burning dens in the north valleys. Humans with silver-tipped bullets and politicians grinning at press conferences.” One of the werewolves behind him, a wiry woman missing two fingers, spits at the ground. “Your father’s 'stay hidden' bullshit got my sister caged in a lab.”

Kendall steps forward, that silver streaks in her hair catching moonlight like a blade. “And you think Callum’s your backup dancer now? We just bled out six rogues in the gulch.” It’s an exaggeration, but they don’t know that.

Nikolai’s smirk falters. Good. Let them see the fire in her.

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