Page 29 of Bitten, Marked, Obsessed

I blink, snap out of it. “Just watching your stance. You’re too stiff.”

She snorts. “Maybe that’s because I’m being hunted like a rabid dog.”

“Could be,” I say evenly. “But stiffness slows you down. Gets you seen. Seen gets you dead.”

She rolls her eyes, but adjusts her weight.

Better.

“Alright,” I say, stepping back and motioning for her to follow. “First thing—PEACE watches the obvious paths. Alleys, overpasses, train platforms, anywhere with a good view of multiple exits. You want to move? You stay low, you stay layered, and you never go where a camera can see your face.”

“You think I’ve never played hide and seek before?”

I glance at her. “Not with trained supernaturals and government-grade surveillance, no. Big Brother is always watching.”

Edmund snorts and earns a snarling stare from Kendall.

“Hm, think I’ve heard that one before,” he says with a side smile that only seems to anger Kendall more.

She opens her mouth, then shuts it, deciding against a comeback.

“Keep going,” she mutters to me.

We walk through the tunnels. I keep my pace steady, neutral, hands loose at my sides. But Ifeelher beside me like lightning brushing the edge of my skin. Always fucking lightening with her. With this. Fucking fate.

It’s quieter now, just the echo of our steps and the drip of water from somewhere deeper. She doesn’t fill the silence, and I don’t offer much more than I need to.

“Next,” I say, stopping at a rusted-out maintenance grate. “Scent masking. You’re strong. Untrained. That makes your scent broadcast like a flare.”

“And what, you’re gonna teach me to smell likenotme?”

“Exactly.”

I pull a small pouch from my jacket and toss it to her. She opens it and recoils.

“What the hell is that? It smells like swamp ass.”

“Charred rosemary, iron powder, dried foxglove. Mix it into your clothes. Rub it into your skin. It dulls your signature. Doesn’t hide it completely, but it’ll buy you time.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Gross.”

“Effective,” I say, stepping closer. “If someone catches your scent and you don’t have that on you, run first. Don’t ask questions. Don’t try to explain.”

“Why?”

“Because they’ve been told to put you down.”

Her expression darkens. “Even your pack?”

I meet her eyes. “Especially my pack.”

That sits between us for a second.

“I didn’t ask to be this,” she says quietly.

“No one does.”

She shifts her weight again, fidgeting with the pouch. “You don’t talk like them. Not form what my dad or the news has said.”

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