MARKED BY THE MOON

The Mark on Her Wrist

Luna POV

Cassia knows why we've come before we say a word.

I see it the moment we step into the cell block — the way her whole body goes rigid, the way her eyes drop straight to my stomach like she's checking to see if I'm still standing here because I survived something, or because nothing happened at all.

"You're alive," she says quietly.

"No thanks to whoever put pennyroyal in my tea." I keep my voice level, even though every part of me wants to scream at her, wants to shake the truth out of her the way I've wanted to since the moment I first suspected she knew more than she was saying. "You knew this was coming."

Cassia's composure, the same iron control she wore like armor through every council meeting I've ever seen her in, cracks wide open.

"I didn't know when," she says, voice shaking. "I swear to you, I didn't know when. Only that it would happen. That's how they work. Slow. Careful. Deniable."

"Who," Kian says, low and dangerous, stepping up beside me, "are they?"

Cassia's hands twist together in her lap, and for the first time since we locked her in this cell, I noticed something I hadn't before. A mark on the inside of her wrist, small, faded with age, half-hidden by the sleeve of her dress. A symbol I don't recognize, some kind of sigil burned or tattooed into her skin a long time ago.

"What is that," I ask, pointing at it before I can stop myself.

Cassia's hand flies to cover it instantly, too fast, too guilty. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing." Kian crouches by the bars, studying it with the same sharp focus he's had all day. "I've never seen that mark before. Not in any pack record, not on any elder, not anywhere."

"You wouldn't have," Cassia whispers. "It's not from this pack."

The room is very quiet.

"Then where," I say, my heart hammering, "is it from?"

Cassia stares at the wall for a long moment, and when she finally speaks, her voice has dropped so low I have to lean in to hear it.

"There is a bloodline older than Blackthorn," she says. "Older than the founding families whose names are carved into every hall of this pack house. A line that was supposed to rule this territory from the very beginning, before it was pushed aside, buried, forgotten by everyone except the people who never stopped believing it was owed what was taken from them."

"Elena's line," I say slowly.

"No." Cassia shakes her head, and something in her expression shifts into real, bone-deep fear. "Elena's line was the rightful line, yes, the one the council pushed aside twenty-three years ago. But there's another. Older still. A line that believes Elena's blood, and yours, is simply a smaller theft on top of a much larger one. They don't want to restore what was taken from Elena. They want to erase every trace of her line completely, so their own claim stands unchallenged when the time comes to take back what they believe is theirs."

I feel the floor tilt under me again, though this time it has nothing to do with dizziness.

"You're one of them," Kian says quietly. "That mark. You're not just working for them. You belong to them."

Cassia's eyes fill with tears, and she doesn't deny it.

"I was born into it," she whispers. "The same way you were born Alpha, Kian. I didn't choose this any more than you chose your throne. But I have spent my whole life believing I was serving something righteous, restoring a wrong that was done generations before either of us were born. It wasn't until Luna came back, until I watched you claim her in front of the entire council, that I started to understand what we were actually willing to do to people who never had a choice in any of this."

"So you tried to expose me instead of poisoning me," I say slowly, understanding the dawning cold and sharpness. "You gave them a way to stop this quietly, through the council, through disgrace, instead of through violence."

"I hoped it would be enough." Cassia's voice breaks completely now. "I hoped if the pack simply rejected you again, if you were sent away in shame, it would satisfy them without anyone else having to die. I was wrong. Declan warned me they'd already decided violence was easier."

"Declan," Kian repeats. "He wears that mark too."

Cassia nods, miserable. "He's been part of this longer than I have. Since before you were Alpha. His family owed a debt to the bloodline that goes back generations, long before he ever became your friend."

"Then everything," I say slowly, the full weight of it crushing down on me, "his loyalty to Kian, his friendship, all of it, was—"

"Real," Cassia says quickly. "I believe it was real, in whatever way a person can be loyal to two things that eventually come into conflict with each other. That's why they had to force him. Threats work better on people who genuinely have something to lose."

Kian's jaw is tight enough to shatter stone. "Who leads them? Who's actually giving the orders?"

Cassia's whole body flinches at the question, real, visceral fear flooding her face.

"I've never seen their face," she whispers. "None of us have, except the very highest among us. We receive instructions through intermediaries, through symbols, through methods designed so that even if one of us breaks, like I'm breaking right now, we can't hand over the one thing that would actually stop them."

"Then how do we find them," I ask, desperate.

Cassia looks up at me, and for the first time since I've known her, I see something that looks almost like an apology in her eyes.

"The ledger," she says quietly. "The one Sable's mother died protecting. It doesn't just prove Elena's claim. Somewhere in those pages is the true name of the bloodline that's been hunting both of you. Find the ledger. Find the key. And you'll finally know exactly who you're fighting."

"The key disappeared the night Mira died," I say. "We don't know where it is."

Cassia's face goes pale, paler than I've ever seen it, and for a moment I think she might refuse to answer at all.

"I know where it is," she finally whispers. "Because I'm the one who took it off her body.”