Page 88 of Soulmarked

Something was coming. Something bigger than princes or gates or the war between Heaven and Hell.

And I had a terrible feeling I was going to be the key to all of it.

Sean's warehousehad always been a study in controlled chaos. Usually, it felt like a fortress, a place where the world's darkness couldn't quite reach.

Tonight, it felt like an invasion.

Sterling moved through the space like he owned it, inspecting Sean's arsenal with the kind of calculated interest that set my teeth on edge.

“Quite the collection,” Sterling remarked, fingers hovering over a blade that probably cost more than his monthly salary. “Some of these items aren't exactly legal for civilians to possess.”

“Touch that and you'll find out how illegal they are,” Sean growled, his Irish accent thickening with barely contained aggression. He stepped between Sterling and the weapons rack.

Sterling didn't flinch. “Are we really going to do this dance, Mr. Cullen? Posture and threaten while Phoenix moves closer to their endgame?”

I couldn't stop moving, pacing near the weapons table while my fingers drummed restlessly against my forearm. The mark hadn't stopped burning since my dream encounter withAsmodeus, like it was trying to tell me something I couldn't quite understand.

“You're gonna wear a hole in my floor,” Sean muttered, his attention shifting to me, concern bleeding through his irritation. “What's got you so wound up?”

Before I could answer, Sterling finally turned away from his inspection. “We need to discuss what happened at the asylum,” he announced, his eyes scanning the room. “And what it means for what's coming.”

“Why here?” Sean demanded, deliberately positioning himself between Sterling and his weapons cache. “Got plenty of fancy federal offices for your meetings.”

Sterling's smile didn't reach his eyes. “Because, Mr. Cullen, what I'm about to discuss doesn't belong in any official record.”

I caught the subtle shift in Sean's stance, the way his weight moved to the balls of his feet, how his hand drifted closer to the knife at his back. Sterling might look like a bureaucrat, but Sean had survived this long by recognizing predators in any form.

“You're awful comfortable walking into a hunter's den alone,” Sean observed, his Irish lilt carrying an edge sharper than any of his blades.

“Alone?” Sterling's laugh was soft but held no humor. “Mr. Cullen, I haven't been truly alone since 1987.” He turned, and something in his eyes made my mark flare with recognition. “But we can discuss my security measures later. Right now, we need to talk about what's hunting Cade.”

I stepped forward, placing myself between them before Sean's tension could explode into action. “I had a visitor last night. In my dreams.”

Sterling's expression tightened. “What aren't you telling us, Cade?”

I hesitated, feeling Sean's attention sharpen. The dream felt both distant and too immediate.

“Asmodeus, he came to me,” I admitted finally. “In a dream, but it wasn't just a dream. He said the mark I carry is different. Older than the usual bindings. That whatever gave it to me understood something about reality itself.”

“When were you planning to mention this?” Sean's voice was carefully neutral, but I caught the hurt beneath it.

“I'm mentioning it now.” I met his eyes. “I needed to understand what it meant first.”

“And do you?” Sterling asked. “Understand what it means?”

I laughed, the sound hollow even to my own ears. “I understand that everyone seems to know more about what I am than I do. That some Prince of Hell thinks I'm key to unmaking reality. That my mark...” I stopped, the words sticking in my throat.

“That your mark what?” Sean pressed gently.

“That it recognized him,” I finished quietly. “Not just his power, but something deeper. Something that felt like coming home.”

The silence that followed felt heavy enough to crush. Sterling studied me with new intensity while his agents shifted uneasily. But it was Sean's reaction I couldn't bring myself to watch, couldn't bear to see fear or doubt in eyes that had looked at me with such trust just hours ago.

“Well,” Sean said finally, and there was something like dark humor in his voice, “at least now we know why the prince wants you so badly. You're not just any key, you're the key to everything they've been planning.”

“This changes nothing,” Sterling declared, but his tone suggested otherwise. “We still need to stop Phoenix, still need to prevent them from opening these gates before...”

“Before what?” I cut in. “Before they unmake reality? Before they tear down the walls between worlds? Or before they wake up whatever gave me this mark in the first place?”

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