Beneath the Crescent Mark

Chapter four

Get in the car,” Cassian said, his hand already on her elbow, guiding her toward his sleek black sedan parked at the edge of the lake’s gravel lot.

“Cassian, what’s wrong?” Ravyn stumbled slightly as another howl echoed across the water, this one closer than before. “It’s just some animal—”

“It’s not just some animal.” His voice was tight as he opened the passenger door for her, practically pushing her inside. “Please, Ravyn. Trust me on this.”

She’d never seen him like this—all his usual calm composure stripped away, replaced by something that looked almost like fear. The engine roared to life before she’d even gotten her seatbelt on, and Cassian pulled out of the parking area with enough speed to send gravel flying.

“You’re scaring me,” she said, watching his profile in the dashboard light. His jaw was clenched so tight she could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.

“I’m trying to keep you safe.” His blue eyes flicked to the rearview mirror for the third time in as many seconds.

“Safe from what?” But even as she asked, Ravyn felt that strange pull in her chest again, the same yearning that had responded to the howling. Whatever was out there, part of her wanted to go toward it, not away from it.

Cassian must have seen something in the mirror because he pressed harder on the accelerator. The speedometer climbed past the speed limit, past what was safe on these winding country roads.

“Cassian, slow down!”

“I can’t.” Another glance in the mirror. “Not yet.”

The howl came again, fainter now but still audible even over the engine noise. Ravyn twisted in her seat to look out the back window but saw only darkness and the faint glow of their taillights on the asphalt.

“There’s nothing behind us,” she said.

“There will be.” His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. “God, I should have known this would happen. I should have been more careful.”

“Known what would happen? Cassian, you’re not making any sense.”

He was quiet for a long moment, eyes constantly checking the mirrors. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Your eighteenth birthday. Your father showing up. I knew things were going to change, but I thought I had more time.”

“More time for what?”

“To figure out how to keep you.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, raw and desperate.

Ravyn stared at him. “Keep me? What does that even mean?”

But Cassian had gone silent again, his attention split between the road ahead and whatever he thought was following them. They drove in tense silence through the darkening countryside, past fields and farmhouses where normal families were settling in for normal Sunday evenings.

The howling had stopped, but Ravyn could still feel its echo in her bones. Every fiber of her being wanted to turn around, to go back toward whatever had made that sound. The urge was so strong it was almost physical, like a rope tied around her ribs, pulling taut.

And there was that heartbeat again—the strange double rhythm that had been plaguing her since her birthday. It was stronger now, more insistent, trying desperately to sync with her own pulse but never quite managing it. Like two musicians trying to play the same song but slightly out of time.

“I need to go back,” she said suddenly.

“No.” Cassian’s response was immediate and sharp. “Absolutely not.”

“But I—”

“Ravyn, listen to me.” He glanced at her, and she saw something desperate in his blue eyes. “Whatever you’re feeling right now, whatever that howling is making you want to do—you have to fight it.”

“How do you know what I’m feeling?”

His jaw tightened. “Because I know what you are.”

The words hung between them like a challenge. Ravyn felt her breath catch. “What I am?”

But before Cassian could answer, her house came into view. He pulled into her driveway with obvious relief, finally allowing his speed to drop to something approaching normal.

“We’re here,” he said unnecessarily, putting the car in park but not turning off the engine.

Ravyn didn’t move to get out. “Cassian. What did you mean, you know what I am?”

He was quiet for so long she thought he might not answer. When he finally looked at her, his expression was filled with something that looked like grief.

“I mean that everything is about to change,” he said softly. “And I’m terrified I’m going to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” she said automatically, but even as the words left her mouth, she wasn’t sure they were true. Something was pulling at her, something beyond her understanding or control.

“Promise me something,” Cassian said, reaching over to take her hand. “Promise me that whatever happens next, whatever you learn about yourself or about me, you’ll remember this. Remember us. Remember that what we have is real.”

The urgency in his voice sent a chill down her spine. “Cassian, you’re really freaking me out.”

“Promise me, Ravyn.”

She squeezed his hand, feeling the familiar coolness of his skin. “I promise. But you have to promise me something too.”

“Anything.”

“No more secrets. No more deflecting my questions. If you know something about what’s happening to me, I need you to tell me the truth.”

Cassian was quiet for a moment, conflict clear on his face. Then he nodded. “Tomorrow. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Because,” he said, leaning closer, “tonight I just want to hold onto this a little longer.”

And then he was kissing her, soft and desperate and tasting like goodbye. His hand cupped the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her dark hair, and for a moment the world narrowed to just this—the warmth of his mouth, the familiar scent of his cologne, the way he kissed her like she was something precious.

All thoughts of howling, of strange pulls in her chest, of fathers and secrets and promises evaporated. There was only Cassian, only the boy she’d fallen in love with, only the safety of his arms and the certainty that whatever was coming, this was real.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Ravyn felt like she was surfacing from deep water. The howling seemed like something from a dream, distant and unimportant.

“I should go in,” she said, though she made no move to leave.

“Yeah,” Cassian agreed, but his hand was still in her hair, his forehead resting against hers. “You should.”

But for a moment longer, they stayed like that—suspended in the space between what was and what was coming, holding onto something that already felt like it was slipping away.