The Confrontation
Stepping closer, I watched as my mother’s expression shifted, her usually poised features furrowing in slight confusion as she took in my stance, my scent—all of me.
And then her gaze landed right on my mark.
The mark Mishele hadn’t returned.
Her lips curled into a knowing smirk.
“Ah,” she mused, a glint of something dark flickering in her eyes. “I see you marked her… but she did not mark you back.”
A cold weight settled in my stomach, but I didn’t let it show.
She was baiting me.
“It seems the moon’s effect is required to help you finish the marking process,” she continued, her voice silky, calculated. “Or you could always consider two… alternative options.”
I didn’t stop moving.
Didn’t react.
Instead, I walked deeper into her estate, searching.
I wasn’t here
