The Night The Mark Appeared
1267 Words
Maya's Pov
The wind howls against my window like it remembers something I’m trying to forget.
I haven’t slept. Not really. I sit curled up on the edge of the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over my fists, heart knocking against my ribs in a rhythm I can’t control. My phone is on the coffee table, face down, but it doesn’t matter. I already know who’s going to call again.
Vincent.
I don’t know how he’s alive.
I buried him.
Literally.
His blood was on my hands. His body in the dirt. I remember the cold. The silence. The way the forest didn’t make a single sound, like it was holding its breath as I lied to Marcus’s face.
“Whatever you saw, I’ll fix it,” Marcus said that night. “I’ll take the blame.”
And he did.
He went to prison for a crime I committed. A crime we both thought would never surface again.
Until now.
The phone buzzes again. My body jerks.
Blocked number.
Of course it is.
I reach for it, but before I can touch the screen, a memory hits me like a blow to the chest—
---
Three Months Ago
The Night Vincent Died
“Leave him, Maya. You were never his.”
Vincent’s voice was silk-coated venom, his lips curled in that smug way he always wore when he knew he had the upper hand.
The warehouse was freezing. Dust coated every surface, and the broken glass under my boots sparkled like frostbite.
“I’m not leaving Marcus.” My voice shook, not from fear, but fury. “He’s my mate.”
He stepped forward. “Is he, though? Then why are you still dreaming about me?”
I flinched. I hated that he knew me well enough to say that.
Vincent and I had history, raw, unfinished, and rotting.
He’d once been my first love, before Marcus. The boy who taught me how to fight. How to shift. How to manipulate magic I didn’t understand. But somewhere along the way, his ambition grew teeth.
And when he found out what I was, what blood ran through me, he stopped loving and started hunting.
“You’re not just some wolf, Maya,” he whispered that night. “You’re royal blood. Born from a forgotten line of the Moon Court. And I’m the only one who can awaken what you are.”
I backed away. “I don’t want that power.”
“But I do.” His eyes gleamed gold. “And I’ll have it, with or without you.”
He lunged.
I reacted.
Claws, teeth, rage, magic, everything collided. My wolf burst forward in defense, not fury. I didn’t want to kill him.
But I did.
Blood soaked the floor. My breath came in harsh gasps. And for a moment, I stared at the body like it wasn’t real.
And then Marcus arrived.
He looked at me. At Vincent’s body. At the mark glowing on my skin for the first time, still fresh, still smoking.
“Go,” Marcus said.
I stared at him, blinking.
He stepped between me and the scene, the silver ring on his hand slipping into his pocket. “You didn’t see me. I’ll handle it.”
“Marcus...”
“Go.”
I ran.
Later that night, the police came for him.
Later that night, I buried the guilt with the body Vincent claimed was gone.
But I should’ve burned it. Because he’s back.
And the magic...whatever awakened that night...never went back to sleep.
---
Present Day
The knock on my door is soft. Almost too soft.
I don’t move at first.
Then I feel it.
A pulse.
In the mark.
The wrong pulse.
I walk to the door slowly. My heartbeat is already racing. My wolf stirs uneasily beneath my skin, pressing upward like she senses danger but can’t fully place it.
When I open it, the night air rushes in. So does the scent.
Pine. Blood. Ash.
And standing at the threshold—casual as if he hasn’t been dead for months, is Vincent.
Alive.
Smiling.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
My throat closes. “No.”
He tilts his head. “Not happy to see me?”
I stagger back. He steps inside like he owns the space. His eyes, once warm honey, are now a burning bronze I don’t recognize.
“What are you?” I whisper.
He shrugs. “Not dead. Obviously.”
“How?”
“You’d be surprised what secrets the earth keeps. Especially when someone buries you half-alive.”
“I didn’t know,” I breathe. “You weren’t breathing. You didn’t move..."
“Oh, I moved. Later. After you ran.” His voice hardens. “You left me to rot.”
“You attacked me!”
“You betrayed me. You chose him.” He glances down at my shoulder, at the faintly glowing mark. His smile fades. “But the blood remembers. And the mark…it was never meant for Marcus.”
I step back. “You’re wrong.”
“No,” he says. “I’m just earlier than expected.”
He moves like smoke...suddenly behind me, his breath cold on my ear.
“Do you know what they did to me after you left? What I became?”
I whirl and push him back with a growl, my claws half-formed, eyes glowing.
He stumbles slightly, grinning wider.
“That’s more like it. The wolf I knew was never this tame.”
“Get out.”
“I can’t.” His voice drops. “Because I’m bound to you, Maya. The same mark you carry? It’s mine, too.”
My knees nearly give out. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” He yanks down the collar of his shirt—and there it is.
Crescent. Crown. Right over his heart.
A matching mark.
No.
No, no, no.
“You were never meant to have one,” I whisper.
He leans in, voice thick with hunger. “You were never meant to have two.”
---
Flashback Interlude
Hours After Vincent’s "Death"
I remember lying in bed, shivering. Alone.
Marcus had been taken. The Council hadn’t come yet, but they would. They always do.
And then it happened.
The mark burned into my shoulder like it had always been there, waiting.
I screamed.
And when I looked in the mirror, it glowed with gold light, one I didn’t understand.
But now I do.
I wasn’t chosen by a mate.
I was claimed by something deeper.
Something old.
Something that wouldn’t let me go.
---
Present
Vincent watches me like a hunter watches prey. His smile is wrong. Off.
“I should tell the Council,” I say, though I already know how that ends.
“You won’t,” he murmurs. “Because they’d kill you too. And Marcus? He’s already dead. Just slower than I was.”
My hands shake. “What do you want from me?”
“I want what was promised.” His voice is low. “You. Your power. Your place beside me.”
“You’ll never have me.”
He grins, teeth flashing. “Then I’ll take you anyway.”
And just like that, he’s gone.
The air in the room shifts violently. The door swings open and slams shut behind him. I fall to my knees, gasping, every nerve in my body screaming.
My wolf is howling now, torn in half.
Two marks.
Two bonds.
Two paths that will rip me apart.
And in the silence that follows, I finally understand:
This isn’t about love.
It’s about survival.
- Writer
