Page 9 of Bitten, Marked, Obsessed

We do. Eventually.

Vann’s breathing hard, glaring daggers. I flex my jaw and stay quiet.

Mathis, my father, though I haven’t been able to call him that for a long time, looks at me first. “I heard what happened tonight. You made contact with a werewolf during a solo patrol?”

“Wasn’t solo. Elias was with me. We tracked a triggered scent near wolf territory. Saw a female, partially shifted. I de-escalated. No aggression shown. No blows exchanged.”

“And you didn’t report it.”

“I came straight here.”

He studies me. That unreadable stare he does—like he’s looking through me instead of at me.

“Do you know what this looks like to the others?”

I nod. “Yeah. Like I’m not spoiling for a pointless war.”

Someone scoffs. Vann, probably.

Mathis ignores it. “You’re next in line, Callum. Your words carry weight. You should use them wisely.”

I meet his gaze. “I am.”

Silence stretches.

He nods, once. Just enough.

“Keep your eyes open. And watch your back.”

He walks away without waiting for a reply.

Vann storms off too, muttering something under his breath.

I sit back down, heart still thudding. Elias exhales next to me.

“Well,” he says. “That went about as expected.”

I laugh, humorless. “I’m so fucking tired of being the only one who doesn’t want blood in the streets.”

“You’re not the only one,” he says, eyes on me. “But you’re the only one saying it out loud.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “And that’s why they hate me.”

He clinks his beer against mine. “Better to be hated for thinking than loved for falling in line.”

I look around the Hollow, at the suspicious glares, the clenched fists, the instinct to fight over think.

I know something is on the horizon, but what it is, there’s no way of knowing.

5

KENDALL

I’m back in Adora’s room for the third time today, hoping maybe this time she’ll crack. Open up. Give me something. Anything. Instead, I get less than before.

She barely looks at me. Won’t answer more than yes or no. Won’t meet my eyes unless I ask her something dumb, like if she wants more ice chips or a goddamn puzzle book.

I sit in the corner, picking at a string on my sleeve, chewing on every second of silence like it’s a punishment. And maybe it is.

---