Shirley
The pain started behind my ribs.
At first it was faint, like the flicker of a match on the edge of my lungs. But it grew fast—hotter, sharper, until every breath scraped like glass. My hand flew to the sink, knuckles white as I leaned over, watching my reflection swim in the bathroom mirror.
Not normal.
I’d been through aches before—stress, the dull throbs of fatigue, even the occasional migraine when the nights dragged too long. But this… this was something else. A pull, like invisible hands tugging at strings buried deep inside me.
The hunter’s mark on my collarbone burned faintly under my skin.
I yanked the neckline of my shirt aside and stared at it in the mirror. The jagged shape, carved into me by something older than my own blood, seemed to glow in the low light. Not b
