Page 88 of Bitten, Marked, Obsessed

“It means her blood’s waking up. The part that was never Bolvi. The part she inherited fromhim.”

“You mean Mathis.”

His eyes flick to mine like gunfire—quick, sharp, deadly.

Just as fast, he looks away. Grabs the flask near his foot and takes a long, slow swig like he’s buying himself time not to explode.

“I figured you’d already know,” I add, quieter.

He lets out a breath through his nose. It’s not a laugh. Not a sigh. More like a warning.

“Howdid you find out?” he asks, voice low and gravel-slick.

“Mom,” I say. “She finally admitted it. Said she didn’t know what Adora would turn out to be, hoped she’d stay normal. But when the changes started... she knew.”

Dad’s jaw ticks. He’s trying—reallytrying—to hold it together. But his fingers curl into fists and his foot bounces like there’s a war going off inside him.

“I raised her,” he growls. “Ifucking raised her.Changed her diapers, kissed her skinned knees, taught her how to ride a bike. She wasmine.”

I really thought he knew, but given the energy I feel from him now, this is news to him and he’s trying to control his rage more than I’ve ever seen before.

I dare to speak. “I don’t think she’s stable,” I say. “She’s dangerous, and I don’t know how to reach her anymore.”

“You might not be able to,” he admits. “Not right now.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“It’s the truth. You’re strong, Kendall. But she was always… sharper. Hungrier. And now that she knows who she really is? That hunger’s getting teeth.”

“So what do we do?”

He meets my gaze. “You survive. And you keep trying to be her sister. Even when she doesn’t want one.”

I swallow hard.

“Can you help me?” I ask. “Figure out what I am? Or is that just another secret you’re keeping?”

His face softens—just a little.

“I don’t know what your mother is if that’s what you’re asking,” he says. “But I know it’s old. Rare. Forbidden, in some places.”

So, he had known about mom at least. She just hadn’t known about him.

“Is that why I feel like I’m coming apart?”

“No,” he says. “That’s what becoming feels like.”

I don’t go back to the cabin.

I walk until my legs burn. Until the cold bites through the hoodie. Until the sky shifts from slate to bruised lavender. Until I stop thinking about what it means to love someone who feels like fate and danger all at once.

But eventually, I turn around because I think maybe Callum deserves more than silence.

Maybe I’m finally ready to give it to him.

36

CALLUM

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