“It’s not about something she did. Relax,” Kayla mutters, yanking her arm back and rubbing it like I actually hurt her.
“I didn’t grab you that hard. Don’t act up. Just tell me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Alright, alright.”
“I saw someone torturing her. I think it’s her father,” she says. “She looked younger. A lot younger. His men were holding her down while he cut her—stabbed her in the back. Then he…”
Her voice falters. She swallows.
“…He broke her leg. Whipped her with a belt. Said she cost them a big client because she refused to sleep with him.”
I go still.
Her scars. Her shields…
The anger starts low. Boiling from somewhere beneath my skin.
That fucking filth is not going to stay alive for long.
My marks begin to glow. Soft at first, then burning brighter.
Kayla’s soul flashes orange. Nervous. Afraid. I can feel the energy turning volatile.
“I’m on my way with Bay. Hold. It. In.”
Myko’s voice slices through the chaos. Did I call him? I don’t know. My breath is getting heavier as I try to fight the surges.
“Malec,” Kayla warns, stepping back slowly. “Breathe. I’m not Black Blooded. Don’t forget that.”
She takes another step back. Then another.
And then she bolts, slamming the door open.
“We need to go. Now!” she calls outside, cutting into whatever was still being said.
I stop listening.
Everything narrows—hot, blinding, drowning in pressure.
The pendant in my pocket warms against my thigh, pulsing with my breath. It’s reacting to me, too.
I tilt my head back.
Focus.
Breathe.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale—
“Malec!”
Bay’s voice breaks through. The office door slams shut behind her.
Thank the oceans.
