Page 140 of Hunted

‘This mark is a curse I hoped would never come into being,’ I say. ‘But it not insurmountable. It will be neutralised when I find and bond with Lyra Hannigan. If I fail, my life is forfeit. That is why she must be found. Soon.’

Silence.

Then Malachi’s face goes pale with fury. ‘The hunter knows?’

‘Yes.’

His head jerks as if struck. ‘You told her before us?’

‘This petty jealousy is unbecoming, Malachi.’

His eyes blaze. ‘You think it’s jealousy? You have a death sentence hanging over you. Over all of us. One that you kept secret from us. And you⁠—’

I move before he finishes.

One moment he is at the table. The next he is pinned against the wall, my hand at his throat, claws spread over his heart. Stone cracks behind him.

‘I can hasten that death significantly right now if you wish,’ I say quietly.

His pulse hammers beneath my palm. Anger still burns there, but beneath it is hurt. Old. Raw. Impossible to mistake.

‘We would do anything for you, sire,’ he says, voice strained. ‘You know that.’ A beat. Then softer, surrendering to the hold. To me. ‘Anything.’

‘Sire,’ Aaron says carefully. ‘He speaks from fear, not disloyalty.’

Luca’s voice comes rougher. ‘He’s an ass, but he’s our ass.’

A low murmur of agreement moves through the room.

The fury drains from me in an ugly drag. They are right. I should have told them.

I release Malachi and step back. He regains his feet instantly, pride reassembled but not untouched.

‘I did not tell you,’ I growl, ‘because I intended to bear this mark as long as possible without burdening you with a deadline you could not change.’

Aaron’s gaze is steady. ‘Your suffering is our burden, sire. Whether you grant us leave to carry it or not.’

Luca thumps a fist to his chest. ‘We are in this with you.’

Malachi’s voice is rough but unwavering. ‘To the end.’

The others echo him. Different words. Same vow.

Something in the chamber shifts, old blood-bond flaring hot and bright. Loyalty. Rage. Affection. Promises of violence and devotion.

It touches me more than I care to admit. And because I sense the questions about the mark firing through their thoughts, I lay it all out for them.

Then I nod once. ‘Then prove it with discipline. Aaron, trace the relay channels tied to Tezra’s contract. Luca, reinforce perimeter shadows and keep your temper sheathed unless I say otherwise. Malachi—’ I hold his gaze. ‘With me after I make one call.’

They disperse at once, purpose replacing shock.

When the chamber empties, I reach for the secure line and dial Rafael Navarro.

‘Brother. It’s been too long. Or perhaps not long enough.’

I hear the smirk before he finishes the sentence.

Rafael Navarro has always sounded one breath away from laughter or violence, often both. He treats most things as a joke until his claws are out, which happens faster than wisdom recommends and more often than diplomacy allows.