Page 74 of Bitten, Marked, Obsessed

He wasn’t ranting about a mate he lost. He was talking aboutAdora’s mother. And Adora. She’s his.

I feel it in my gut, in the way my wolf stirs like it’s recognizing a sibling. Not fated—kin. Blood of the same line. And that means Adora’s not just some random trigger. She’sshifter royalty. And no one knows, except maybe Mathis. And he’s been hiding it.

I clench my jaw. The session ends shortly after, and Adora vanishes with a quick nod and a promise to be back tomorrow.

No hugs. No trust. Just grit. Which means now’s the time.

I don’t knock when I walk into the Hollow’s war room.

The door creaks, dust trembling in its frame, and Mathis is already pacing—his gait precise, like each step is weighted in ritual. He always paces when he’s pissed or thinking. Or both. Tonight? Definitely both.

The shadows catch hard on the edges of him.Tall, broad-shouldered, thatwolf-cut profile like it was carved from flint, every feature sharp enough to wound. Hishazel eyes, same as mine, glint with that ever-present gleam of restrained dominance. That shifter stillness that saysI’ve survived things you can’t even spell.

But there’s something else tonight. A crack in the armor. I catch it in the slope of his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw.

He turns toward me, voice already bristling. “What?”

“I need to talk.”

He doesn’t stop pacing. “Make it quick.”

I don’t.

Instead, I shut the door behind me and plant myself square in his path. I stand tall—not like a son, but like a threat. Equal footing. Something I never tried until now.

“I trained a new shifter today.”

Mathis raises a brow. “Okay?”

“She’s strong,” I say. “Sharp. Feral control needs work, but her instincts? Damn near perfect.”

“Then good. We need more like her.”

I wait. I watch him. And then, just loud enough to break the floor beneath us: “She’s yours.”

Mathis freezes mid-stride.

His body doesn’t sway. Doesn’t tremble. Just stops. Like a statue. Like he’s holding himself in place with sheer force of will.

“You’re wrong,” he says, but it’s too smooth. Too fast.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I said you’re wrong.”

“Ifeltit,” I snap, stepping closer. “The way she reads movement. The way she breaks patterns. Herpulsesyncs with mine like pack. That’s not just training. That’s blood.”

He doesn’t move, but something in his throat works once, hard. A flicker of emotion. Barely.

“She’s got your eyes,” I say quieter. “Same storm behind the hazel. Same way she doesn’t blink when most people flinch.”

Still, he says nothing.

“Her name’s Adora,” I add. “Did you know that?”

Silence.

Mathis exhales like the breath costs him something. He turns his head, just a little, so I can’t read his face fully.

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