Page 19 of Bitten, Marked, Obsessed

“There’s more,” Devon says. “Her bloodline was flagged. Old name. Hidden lineage. It triggered a system alert when she bit. PEACE hasn’t responded yet, but someone’s watching.”

I lean forward. “What name?”

Devon hesitates. “Bolvi.”

A beat of silence.

Then my father swears, low and vicious, in Old Norse.

I’ve only heard that once—when a Draconis rep threatened to expose us for harboring a rogue during a blackout year.

“What is it?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

Mathis recovers fast, but there’s tension in his jaw now. His hand flexes around the glass. “The Bolvi line should’ve died out.”

“Apparently not,” Elias murmurs.

I look back at my father. “What makes her so special?”

“She shouldn’t exist,” he snaps. “They were wiped out during the Fallow Wars. They weren’t just werewolves—they were wild magic incarnate. Instinct without conscience. No reason. No loyalty. Just power and hunger.”

“Sounds familiar,” I mutter.

His gaze cuts to mine. “Don’t be clever.”

“I’m serious,” I say, voice harder now. “You just described how the humans talk aboutus. Is that what we’re doing now? Copying their propaganda and slapping it on anyone who doesn’t fit the mold?”

“She’s dangerous.”

“She’snewly awakened. That doesn’t make her the enemy.”

He stands, slow and deliberate. The rest of the table quiets.

“I won’t have you defending werewolves, Callum.”

“And I won’t sit here while you try to turn us into the same monsters who put collars on our necks a decade ago.”

His jaw clenches. “Watch yourself.”

“No,” I say, stepping forward. “Youwatch yourself. You think wiping her out will make the humans feel better? That if we keep our side of the street clean, they won’t come kicking in our doors next?”

“Better to strike first than to wait.”

“That’s fear talking. That’s not strategy. That’s you, too old and too angry to see a future that doesn’t look like a graveyard.”

The room is dead silent.

Even Vann is quiet, for once.

Mathis exhales through his nose. “You’ve always been naive.”

“And you’ve always been too scared to admit that peace means giving something up.”

We stare each other down.

“Dismissed,” he mutters.

Elias claps me on the back as we step away. “Well,” he says softly, “that went about as bad as it could’ve.”

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