Marked in fire
1127 Words
Chapter 5: Marked in Fire
Vincent’s POV
Blood.
That was the first thing I saw when I turned, too slow, too distracted by the chaos around us. I had heard the whistle of the bullet, smelled the metal tearing through the air, but by the time my brain caught up, it was too late.
Davina was on the ground, blood pooling under her shoulder, her breathing ragged.
“No!” The roar tore out of my chest as I dropped to my knees, my hands pressing hard against the wound.
Her dark eyes fluttered open, barely focused, and she still had the audacity to smirk. “You’re welcome… Alpha.”
“Stop talking.” My voice was harsh, but my hands were shaking. “You’re going to be fine. You hear me? You’re going to make it.”
She blinked slowly. “You sound worried.”
“I am worried!” I snapped. “You saved my life.”
Her lips curved into a weak smile. “Good… means I’m still useful.”
Her head lolled to the side, unconscious.
“Davina!”
Tim was already at my side, barking orders. “We have to get her out of here. Now!”
I scooped her up in my arms, ignoring the pain in my own side, ignoring everything except the weight of her body against mine. Her blood soaked into my shirt, hot and terrifyingly fast.
Micah’s men had vanished into the shadows, like they always did, leaving destruction in their wake. But this time, this time, he had crossed a line.
“Get the cars ready,” I growled, my voice shaking with rage. “I want every single one of Micah’s hideouts burned to the ground. Tonight.”
She was unconscious for three days.
Three days of me pacing outside her room like a caged wolf, snapping at everyone who so much as breathed wrong.
When she finally woke, I was the first to see her eyes flutter open.
“You look like hell,” she croaked.
Relief crashed through me so hard I almost laughed. “You look worse,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Her hand twitched, as if she wanted to hit me, but she was too weak. “Don’t start with me.”
“Don’t start with you?” I leaned closer. “You took a bullet for me, Davina. You almost died.”
She turned her head away. “Would you rather I hadn’t?”
“Don’t.” My hand shot out, gripping the bed rail. “Don’t say that.”
Her eyes flicked back to me, soft for just a second. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for Dan.”
That stung more than I expected.
“I don’t care why you did it,” I said finally, my voice low. “You’re still mine.”
She scoffed and looked away, but I didn’t miss the shiver that went through her.
A week later, the council arrived.
Five elders, robed and radiating authority, filling my office with the heavy scent of judgment.
“Alpha Vincent,” Elder Rowan said gravely, “your pack’s stability is at risk. An unmated Alpha during a time of war invites chaos.”
I folded my arms. “I don’t answer to anyone but my pack.”
“You will answer to the council,” Rowan said, his tone sharp. “Either take your mate and mark her before the next moon, or step down as Alpha. Choose.”
I wanted to tear the smug look off his face. Step down? That wasn’t an option.
The rite took place that night.
Davina was still in bed, propped up by pillows, her skin pale but her eyes blazing with fury.
“This is insane,” she hissed as the elders prepared the ceremonial basin. “I’m barely healed, and you think now is the time for this?”
“It’s not my choice,” I said through clenched teeth.
“The hell it isn’t!” She tried to sit up, wincing. “You could have refused them!”
“And lose my title? Lose the pack? You think Micah wouldn’t swoop in the second I step down?”
Her glare could have cut through steel. “So this is about power. Not about me.”
I leaned closer, my voice low. “It’s about both. And you know it.”
She looked away, her jaw tight. “I hate you.”
“Good,” I said, my chest tight. “Hate me all you want. But you’re still mine.”
The elders began chanting, the air thick with old magic. I knelt on the bed beside her, brushing her hair back from her neck. She tensed under my touch.
“Davina,” I said quietly, “look at me.”
Her black eyes met mine, defiant, but there was something else there too — fear.“This won’t hurt,” I lied.
“Liar,” she whispered.
I bent my head and sank my teeth into the soft skin where her neck met her shoulder. She gasped, her body arching under mine as the bond snapped into place, hot and electric, burning through both of us.
My wolf roared in triumph.
Davina clutched the sheets, tears sliding silently down her face.
When I pulled back, I tasted her blood and my own. She glared at me, breathing hard. “Are you happy now?”
“No,” I said honestly. “But I feel whole.”
She turned her face away. “I hope you choke on it.”
The days after the rite were hell.
She wouldn’t speak to me unless absolutely necessary. She wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t touch me. And yet the bond pulsed between us, hot and demanding, making it impossible to stay away from her.
Every time I entered the room, her scent hit me like a punch, and my wolf wanted to claim her all over again.
One night, I caught her staring at me when she thought I was asleep.
“Say it,” I murmured without opening my eyes.
She stiffened. “Say what?”
“That you feel it too.”
Silence stretched out between us.
Finally, she whispered, “That’s what I hate most. That I do.”
I opened my eyes and turned toward her. “Good. Because I’m done pretending I don’t.”
For a moment, neither of us moved. Then I reached for her hand. She didn’t pull away this time.
Maybe we weren’t there yet — not forgiveness, not trust — but it was something.
And for the first time since she’d been shot, I let myself believe we might survive this war.
- Writer
