Chapter 5. Marked in the Dark

Aria didn’t move.

She sat frozen in her attic bed, back pressed against the cold wooden wall, breath shallow. The whisper was gone, but the echo of it still lingered behind her ear like breath that didn’t belong to her.

Mine.

She hadn’t imagined it. She knew the difference. Dreams didn’t raise every hair on your arms. Hallucinations didn’t press against the veil of your wolf like that—like something ancient had reached through and touched the part of her she didn’t let anyone see.

She clutched the silver crest in her fist, squeezing it so hard the edges bit into her skin. The rooftop was silent now, but the pressure hadn’t left. It felt like a fingerprint left on her soul. Something—someone—had seen her.

Not just seen.

Claimed.

And it wasn’t Kade.

By the time dawn broke, she hadn’t slept a minute.

Downstairs, her stepfather was already gone. Probably nursing a hangover in someone else’s garage. The quiet didn’t comfort her. It felt like a setup. Like a trap.

She dressed slowly, still listening.

The whisper hadn’t come again.

But she wasn’t foolish enough to think it was over.

At school, the weight in the air was different. Heavier. Even students who normally barked and joked now glanced over their shoulders as if waiting for something to step out of the shadows. News of the forest symbol had gotten out, even if no one said how.

Jules met her at the lockers, hair tucked under a black knit cap, eyes sharper than usual.

“You feel it?” she asked.

Aria nodded. “Like something’s… hunting.”

“It is.”

She handed Aria a slip of paper. A drawing. The symbol they saw on the stone.

“I traced it from memory,” Jules said. “Showed it to an upper-year. She didn’t recognize it. Said it didn’t belong to any known clan or rogue faction.”

“So, what is it?”

“Something old. Something not meant to be found.”

Aria tucked the paper into her notebook. “Last night, something came to my roof.”

Jules went still. “Saw it?”

“No. Heard it.”

“What’d it say?”

“One word.”

Jules waited.

“Mine.”

Her friend’s mouth tightened. “Then it’s already marked you.”

Aria’s stomach twisted.

“It might not want you dead,” Jules continued, lowering her voice. “It might want something worse.”

“What’s worse than being hunted?”

“Being kept.”

The hallway door slammed open.

Kade stepped inside, flanked by Logan and the black-haired girl, whose name Aria still didn’t know. Kade looked like he hadn’t slept either. His jaw was sharp, his shoulders tense.

But when his eyes found Aria’s, everything else in the hallway blurred. Just a second. No expression. No emotion.

Then he looked away.

In training, he didn’t speak. He watched drills from the shadows, occasionally muttering something to Logan. When it was Aria’s turn to spar, she felt his attention—hot, sharp, suffocating—but he never interfered.

After class, she waited.

He left through the side door without looking at her.

Jules watched her. “Are we ignoring each other now?”

“He’s ignoring. I’m trying to remember I have a spine.”

“Good. Keep it. You’ll need it.”

Aria started toward the back staircase but stopped cold.

Cassandra was waiting there.

Alone.

No entourage. No camera-worthy hair flip.

Just standing, arms crossed, mouth tight.

Aria stared at her. “You get lost, or did your ego finally need a map?”

Cassandra didn’t smirk. Didn’t sass.

She just said, “They’re watching all of us. Not just you.”

“Who?”

Cassandra glanced around. “Whatever you found in the forest.”

Aria stepped closer. “You don’t believe me.”

“I believe it’s real. I just think you’re not ready for what it wants.”

“And you are?”

“No,” Cassandra said. “But at least I’m not pretending I’ll survive it.”

She turned and left, boots tapping softly down the stairs.

***

That night, Aria stayed up again. Her wolf was restless, refusing to settle. The air in the attic was thick, like it had weight. And just after midnight, she felt it again.

The pull.

Like a thread being tugged through her chest.

She opened her window and climbed out onto the slanted rooftop.

Cold air bit her cheeks. The sky was cloudless. Silent.

But the pressure grew.

She turned—slowly.

A figure stood at the far edge of the roof.

Not Kade.

Not human.

Its eyes were gold and violet, burning without light. It had no scent. No warmth. Just the weight of its gaze.

She couldn’t speak.

Then it took a step forward, and its voice spoke again—not out loud, but inside her head.

Mine.

And then—

It vanished.

Like smoke in wind.

She collapsed to her knees, shaking.

Her wolf didn’t speak.

Didn’t growl.

Only whimpered.

And in that moment, Aria understood something she hadn’t before.

Whatever that thing was…

It wasn’t after her because she was Kade’s mate.

It was after her because she might be something more.

***

Aria remained on the rooftop far longer than she intended. The chill seeped through her sweater, but she didn’t move. Not because she wasn’t cold—she was freezing—but because her body refused to obey. Her hands trembled slightly where they rested against the rough shingles, and her breath came in shallow pulls. Her wolf, normally defiant, was utterly still. Not calm. Not content. Just… stunned.

The rooftop felt lonelier than usual. She’d stood there before, stared at the stars, imagined what it might be like to feel safe in her own skin. But now, the sky above her seemed thinner, like something might break through it at any moment. She didn’t know what the thing was. Not really. But she felt it pressing around the edges of the night, and for the first time since discovering she had a mate, Aria was genuinely afraid.

Not of pain.

Not of death.

But of being taken.

She hadn’t spoken aloud to anyone about the sensation—the pull she’d felt even before seeing it. The dreams had started a week before she even stepped into Kade’s orbit. She’d chalked them up to stress, to her wolf adjusting, to leftover trauma. But now she knew better. Whatever this thing was, it had seen her long before she’d seen it.

And tonight, it had come closer than ever.

She exhaled slowly and shifted her weight to stand, joints stiff and skin raw with the wind. Her attic window still stood open behind her, the curtain fluttering like a beckoning hand. She was halfway back inside when she heard something—soft but undeniable—a second set of footsteps, crunching gravel just behind the building.

She froze again.

It wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t trying to be silent either. Confident. Slow.

She dropped back inside, closed the window, and killed the lights. Then she pressed herself to the side wall, peeking through a sliver in the wood. Nothing. But her gut still twisted in warning.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. She didn’t see anything move. The footsteps didn’t return. But just before she managed to pull herself back into bed, her wolf whispered low and thin.

‘He’s still watching.’

The sleep that followed was not rest. It was a murky, half-conscious drift where dreams curled like smoke around her throat.

***

The next morning, her reflection in the mirror looked like a lie. The face staring back at her was pale and expressionless. Her eyes seemed darker somehow, more sunken, like the shadows had taken root. She didn’t bother with mascara. What was the point?

Downstairs, her stepfather had returned. He didn’t say anything when she passed through the kitchen—just grunted and kept drinking his coffee. His presence didn’t feel threatening this morning, but it still made her skin crawl. She walked to school because she didn’t want to be in that house any longer than necessary.

Outside, the air was heavy again. Not humid. Just dense. As if every molecule of oxygen had been warned to keep quiet.

She noticed it in the students, too. No one laughed. Not really. There were murmurs, glances, forced attempts at normality. Something had shifted since the announcement about the attacks—and everyone knew it. Something was circling, and they could all feel it coming closer.

Jules found her in the back stairwell between classes. She looked like she hadn’t slept either.

“Did you see anything else last night?” Jules asked, voice low.

Aria hesitated before answering. “It came back.”

Jules cursed under her breath. “You sure?”

“I was on the roof. It didn’t touch me. But it spoke again.”

“What did it say this time?”

“The same thing.”

Jules didn’t need her to repeat the word.

Aria took a deep breath. “I think it’s trying to override the bond.”

Jules stared at her. “You mean—replace the mate pull?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not supposed to be possible.”

“Neither is whatever that thing is.”

They didn’t say anything for a while. The stairwell buzzed with faint electric humming overhead, and below them, someone slammed a locker.

Finally, Jules asked, “Are you going to tell him?”

Aria didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

She found Kade alone behind the old gym, standing at the rusted fence where the woods crept closest. He didn’t look surprised to see her. He rarely did.

“You look like hell,” he said.

“Thanks,” she replied. “You look worse.”

He gave a small smile. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“I know something followed us back from the forest,” she said. “I know you feel it too.”

He didn’t respond.

“It came to my house last night.”

That made him turn. His posture changed—tense, alert, dangerous.

“What?”

“It didn’t attack. It didn’t break in. It just stood there. Watching.”

He stepped toward her. “What else?”

“It spoke again. In my head. Same word.”

“Mine.”

She nodded.

Kade exhaled through his nose. “I should’ve gone back.”

“You couldn’t have stopped it.”

“Maybe not. But I could’ve stood between it and you.”

She frowned. “You already said you wouldn’t claim me. Why does it matter if something else does?”

His expression darkened. “Because claiming doesn’t always mean protecting. But whatever that thing is—it doesn’t want a mate. It wants a vessel.”

Her throat tightened. “For what?”

“I don’t know.”

A beat of silence.

Then he stepped closer and placed something in her hand—a small, flat stone etched with runes.

“A ward,” he said. “Not strong, but it’ll give me time to find you if it gets close again.”

She stared at it. “And if you don’t?”

His voice was rough. “Then run.”

***

That night, she didn’t sleep in the attic.

Instead, she took her blanket, her pillow, and curled up on the floor of the narrow hallway just outside her door. She placed the stone Kade had given her under her palm, where its cool, carved surface touched her skin.

She watched the trapdoor above the attic entrance.

It didn’t open.

Not that night.

But just before her eyes finally drifted shut, she heard it again. Not a voice this time. Not words. But laughter—thin, dry, and hollow—like wind blowing through bone.

And from the corner of her eye, through the attic slats, something blinked.

Not golden. Not violet.

But both. At once.