Page 93 of Marked By His Hunger
The bond surged violently in response.
Heat exploded through my chest.
She gasped.
Clutched at her sternum.
“Do not make promises you do not understand,” she whispered.
I stared at her.
“What did you feel, Serena?”
“Like something tightened.”
Yes.
The thread.
The weave.
The Norns had begun.
The Institute gates loomed ahead.
Wards glowed faintly along the archway.
Safe.
For now.
I stopped just before crossing the threshold.
If I entered too close—the bond might snap fully into place.
And I was not ready.
“Go inside,” I said.
She hesitated.
“You’re not coming?”
“Soon.”
She studied me one long moment.
Then—she nodded.
And stepped through the wards.
The moment she crossed, the thread stretched.
Pain lanced through my chest.
Not hunger.
Separation.
