The forest was alive with whispers, the wind weaving through the ancient trees like a secret language. Every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves, echoed in Lena’s ears like a drumbeat of warning. Her breath came in ragged gasps, chest tightening with the growing weight of fear—and something else, something fierce and undeniable stirring within her.
Dominic’s hand was a lifeline in the darkness, his grip firm yet gentle as he led her deeper into the shadowed woods. The moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting silver streaks across his sharp features, illuminating the determination etched in his eyes.
“The mark,” he said softly, breaking the silence. “It’s not just a curse. It’s our history. Our bloodline.”
Lena’s eyes flicked down to her wrist where the crimson sigil burned brig
