Page 38 of Bitten, Marked, Obsessed

He moves to sit across from me, elbows on his knees. “Is there someone else?”

My head snaps up. “What?”

“You’re here, but you’re not reallyhere, Kendall. It’s like… you’re looking through me.”

I shake my head. “No. There’s no one else.” Not in the way he means.

But I also can’t say it’s a lie becauseCallumis still echoing in my chest with everything he said and didn’t say last night.

“I’m just—” I start, then stop. Try again. “I don’t know who I am right now. And that’s not fair to you.”

He flinches. Like I hit him.

“You know what’s not fair?” he says, voice low. “Watching the girl I love turn into a stranger and not knowing why. Wondering if I did something wrong, or if you just woke up one day and decided I wasn’t enough.”

I swallow hard. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Thentalkto me.Trustme.”

“Ican’t, Stefan.” My voice cracks, and I hate the way it feels like I’m splintering. “I want to, but Ican’t. It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, itis,” he snaps. “You either want this or you don’t. And right now, it feels like you don’t.”

I stare at him.

He’s not wrong.

I don’t feel like Ibelonghere anymore. Not with him. Not in this space we used to share like it was sacred. It’s not him. It’s me. It’s everything I can’t say out loud. Everything Iamnow.

“I need to go see Adora,” I say softly. “She’s getting out of the hospital soon. I should be with her.”

He stares at me for a long moment.

Then he nods once. But it’s stiff. Guarded. Wounded.

“Yeah,” he says. “You should.”

I stand slowly. We don’t hug. We don’t kiss. And that says more than either of us could’ve managed with words.

I close the door behind me and press my back against it, staring at the hallway wall.

I thought seeing Stefan would clear my head, but all it’s done is show me how far away I already am. And no matter how far I run from it… Callum is still there in the dark, waiting.

And some part of me is waiting for him too. But why?

16

CALLUM

The Hollow feels different tonight. Like everyone’s waiting for the floor to crack open and swallow us whole.

I push through the entrance, jaw clenched, boots echoing louder than usual. Conversations stall when I walk in—not all the way, but just enough for me to notice. A few heads tilt toward each other. A few eyes flick in my direction, then away too fast.

They’re not talking about me. Not openly. But I can feel it. The burn under my skin has nothing to do with them, though.

It’s her.

Kendall.

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