I had been dragged back to the Coven House. Sibal had personally overseen the process, his eyes scanning me for any trace of the Wolf’s influence.
But he didn't find the tracker.
The small, gray pebble was hidden in the lining of my coat, stitched into the seam where even a magical scan might miss it. It was my secret. My lifeline.
I went back to work. I drew sigils. I mixed potions. I smiled at the other witches and pretended to be the contrite, obedient battery I was supposed to be.
But every time I was alone, I touched the seam of my coat.
I missed him.
It was a physical ache, a hollowness in my chest that no amount of meditation could fill. I missed his heat. I missed his laugh. I missed the way he looked at me.
But I couldn't see him. Not yet. Sibal was watching me too closely.
