Marked

Marked *Chapter 4*

EMMA

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Silence.

Emma stood in the middle of the clinic. Blood-soaked. Shaking. Her heart still beating wrong, her chest still aching, her whole body oriented toward a door he'd just walked through.

"What," she said slowly, "was that."

Declan let out a long breath. Looked at Nash. Nash looked back.

"That," Declan said, "was the Alpha of the Coldwater pack finding his mate."

"His what?"

"Yeah." He almost smiled. Didn't quite make it. "You're going to want to sit down for this, doc."

"I don't want to sit down. I want an explanation." Emma's voice was shaking. She hated that it was shaking. "I want to know why my heart is doing things it shouldn't be able to do, and why that man's eyes changed color, and why —" She pressed her hand to her chest again. The ache hadn't faded. If anything, it was getting worse. "Why does it *hurt*?"

Declan and Nash exchanged another look.

"The short version," Nash said quietly, "is that you're his mate. And he's yours. It's a bond — biological, spiritual, not entirely understood even by us. It hits when you make eye contact for the first time, and it doesn't let go."

"That's insane."

"Yes."

"I don't even know him."

"Doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!" Emma's voice cracked. "You can't just — people don't just *belong* to each other because of eye contact!"

"Wolves do." Declan's voice was calm. Almost gentle, which was somehow worse. "And like it or not, doc, you're tangled up with wolves now."

Emma stared at him. Then at Nash. Then at the door Callum had walked through.

The ache in her chest pulsed. *Come back*, something in her whispered. *Find him*.

She shoved the feeling down. Buried it.

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

Declan raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"No. I helped your friend. I'm glad he's alive. But I'm not getting in a car with strangers and driving to some compound in the mountains because a man I've never met looked at me funny."

"Looked at you funny." Declan almost laughed. "That's one way to describe it."

"I'm serious. I'm not going."

Declan studied her for a moment. Something shifted in his expression — the amusement fading, replaced by something harder.

"Here's the thing, doc. We've got eight wounded wolves at the compound. Our healer is dead. You're the only doctor within fifty miles who's seen what we are and not run screaming." He paused. "You can come willingly, or I can put you in the truck myself. But you're coming."

"You can't just —"

"I can. I'd rather not." He shrugged. "Your choice."

Emma's jaw tightened. She looked at Declan. Then at Nash, who was watching her with those quiet grey eyes.

The ache in her chest pulsed.

"I drive myself," she said. "My car. I leave when I want, and no one stops me."

Declan raised an eyebrow. "You don't know where you're going."

"Then I follow you. But I'm not getting in a truck with strangers and hoping you take me where you say you will."

A pause. Declan glanced at Nash. Nash gave a small shrug — *let her have it*.

"Fine," Declan said. "You follow. But if you try to peel off, I will chase you down and you won't like how that ends."

"And when the wounded are stable, I leave. Your word."

"My word that no one stops you." He held her gaze. "But I don't think you'll want to go."

"That's my problem."

"Yeah." Something flickered in his expression. "It is."

On the table, Nash spoke quietly. "The bond doesn't go away. The longer you're apart from him, the more it'll hurt. Both of you."

"I don't care."

"You will."

Emma wanted to argue. Wanted to tell them both to go to hell, to get out of her clinic, to leave her alone.

But the ache in her chest was spreading. And somewhere, driving away from her, Callum Voss was feeling it too.

She closed her eyes.

"Fine," she said. "I'll look at your wounded. But I'm not staying."

Declan smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.

"Whatever you say, doc."

She grabbed her coat. Her keys.

"Emma," she said, not looking at either of them. "My name is Emma."

"Emma." Declan said it like he was filing it away. "One more thing. When you see him again — and you will — don't run."

She turned. "Why?"

"Because he won't be able to stop himself from chasing.