Page 34 of Bitten, Marked, Obsessed

Kendall moves different tonight. Less raw, more guarded. Like she’s figured out how to keep her insides from spilling out but hasn’t found where to hide them yet. She’s in all black, hoodie pulled up, hair braided tight.

She looks like a storm pretending to be calm, but her bright blue, almost violet eyes give it away.

I look away before my eyes linger too long.

Edmund gives a short nod. “We’ll focus on back-tracking and scent suppression. PEACE has increased patrols north of the Southside exits. You need to be sharper.”

“I’m getting sharper,” Kendall mutters.

“Not sharp enough,” he says. “Yet.”

“If you know so much, why do I need his help as well?” she barks back.

Edmund steps forward, an intimidating move and it works.

“Because he knows more about PEACE and what his pack is looking for. I know howIcan survive, not with you, just on my own. And I haven’t trained anyone ever. He has. He’s the next alpha in line and trains a lot of their ranks. You need that in order to think like them and stay a step ahead. Understood?”

Kendall doesn’t say anything, just moves her confrontational eyes to the ground and takes a step back in submission.

And then we get to work.

The drills start simple. Trail tracing. Misdirection. More scent masking. I correct her stance a few times, adjust her hands when she lays false tracks. It’s all muscle memory now, at least for me. For her, it’s still friction and fatigue.

She doesn’t complain. She never does.

She’s already soaked with sweat when we move into masking.

“Again,” I say, tossing the pouch of herbs her way. “Rub it along your pulse points. Neck, wrists, inner thighs. Anywhere that radiates heat.”

She catches it, scowling. “This stuff smells like a rotting garden.”

“Better a rotting garden than death,” I reply.

Her lips twitch, and she crouches to apply it.

Edmund paces while we work, listening. Watching. Always scanning the shadows like something’s going to crawl out of them.

I know the feeling.

“Your friend,” Edmund says, suddenly. “Elias. Where is he?”

“Pulled for a late patrol,” I say. “North rim. He’s playing our alibi.”

Edmund grunts, nods once. Then his head jerks slightly.

He hears something.

“I’ll be back,” he says. “Don’t stop.”

And then he’s gone, silent as the shadows he disappears into.

The tunnel settles again.

Kendall wipes her hands on her pants and stands. “So,” she says, blowing out a breath, “is this where you criticize my technique again?”

“Actually,” I say, “you didn’t suck this time.”

Her brow lifts. “High praise.”

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