Page 18 of Bitten, Marked, Obsessed

He’d see me differently.

He’dhateme. I can’t lose him.

I need him. I neednormal. Something to hold onto while the rest of my life spins off its goddamn axis.

Right now, Stefan’s the only thing I’ve got left that still feels like the world I used to live in.

The world I’m already slipping away from.

8

CALLUM

The Hollow smells worse in daylight.

Like stale beer, old blood, and the ghosts of bad decisions. Sunlight leaks in through the warped boards covering the windows, but it doesn’t do much to clean the place up. Still feels like a cave full of growling dogs waiting for a fight.

Elias and I push through the heavy door, both of us stiff from too little sleep and too many questions.

“Same table?” Elias asks.

“Nah. Let’s just report in and get it over with.”

He nods, eyes tracking the usual suspects—Vann brooding in the corner like a discount mobster, two of the younger recruits sparring in the back, and my father already seated at the long central table, sipping something dark out of his favorite chipped glass like it’s his goddamn throne.

I roll my shoulders and head toward him.

“You’re late,” Mathis says, without looking up.

“We were working,” I reply flatly.

His eyes lift to mine, cold and calculating. “So what did you find?”

I hesitate for half a second.

Not long. But Elias notices. Of course he does.

“Not much,” I say, keeping my tone even. “No confirmed triggers. Caught some residual energy—probably leftover from a solstice-born who shifted late. Nothing stuck. No conflict. No witnesses.”

Elias shifts beside me, but says nothing. Loyalty. Or maybe he’s just curious to see how deep I’m willing to dig this hole.

Mathis stares at me for a beat too long. Then nods once. “Good. Clean patrol.”

Bullshit. He knows I’m lying. I know he knows. But we’ve both learned how to play the game.

Before he can press, Devon—our intelligence runner—slips through the side door with a tablet in hand and a face like he’s got secrets burning a hole in his pocket.

“Report just came in,” he says, glancing at Mathis. “From the Southside informants. A werewolf triggered last night.”

Mathis’s face hardens instantly. “Where?”

“Near the cemetery district. Suppressed gene, forcibly awakened. No pack affiliation. Likely unregistered.”

I glance at Elias. His brow twitches. Just enough to confirm what I’m already thinking.

It’sher.

The one we felt last night. The one whose scent is still tattooed in the back of my mind.

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