I didn’t move. I couldn't.
I just stood there staring at that glowing crap on the sidewalk like it was a hallucination that might go away if I blinked hard enough. It didn’t. If anything, the symbol—the sharp, jagged curve that matched the brand on my own skin—seemed to settle into the concrete, pulsing with a slow, sick rhythm.
My heart was doing a frantic double-time against my ribs, totally out of sync with the glow.
"This is insane," I whispered. My voice sounded thin, like it belonged to someone else. "I am officially losing it."
But my legs had other plans. It wasn't some magical tractor beam pulling me; it was that itch in my marrow. My blood was humming again, a low-frequency vibration that felt like... approval. Like my body was saying Finally. That terrified me more than the
