Ezra’s eyes darkened. She already knew what she wanted to do.
“Please,” I heard myself say. My voice cracked. “Please, E. For me.”
She studied me for a long second. Then she blinked, once, twice, like she was filing something away.
“I won’t kill her,” she said finally. “You have my word.” Her gaze slid back to the building. “But she’s done. She doesn’t step foot in a Syndicate base city again. Ever.”
It wasn’t mercy, but it was the best I was going to get.
I nodded. “Agreed.”
***
The days that followed blurred together in a haze of alcohol and obligation.
We pulled our parents out of one mess, proving—yet again—that we were worth the weight of the names we were taking. Showed everyone who was running this shit now.
Sat through a family dinner that stretched on forever. Smiles. Toasts. Laughter. All of it felt distant, like I was watching through thick glass.
I drank through most of it.
Everyone else looked relaxed, happy even. I kept my spine straight and my face neutral, like nothing inside me was split open and leaking out with every step I took. Every so often, Ezra would pinch my arm under the table or cut me a sharp look. I’d correct myself. Sit taller. Breathe.
She handled our parents. Fielded their questions. Steered conversations away from me when my silence grew too heavy. She’d told me she’d take care of it, and she did.
So when she suggested mate-blocker tattoos, I didn’t hesitate.
Why not? I wasn’t finding my mate, anyway.
This way, it wouldn’t look like something was wrong with me. It would look like fate had simply passed me by.
All I remembered clearly was the hard chair and the smell of ink and old magic. An elderly mage waited with her tools, eyes sharp despite the lines in her face.
“What design?” she asked in broken English.
I scanned the board on the wall, rows of quick-draw symbols and stock pieces. My gaze snagged on the first thing it landed on.
“That one.” I pointed. A single rose. “But make it thorny. As many thorns as you can fit. Like no one would want to touch it.”
She studied me for a moment, but it felt… right. Pretty from a distance. Painful up close. Better left alone. Just like me.
I slapped my neck once and leaned back. “Here. Make sure everyone can see it.”
The woman glanced at Ezra. “Blocator de mate, da?”
Ezra nodded.
There was something in her eyes then—quiet, almost sad—but the mage only turned back to me and murmured, “Nu-?i face griji. Va fi invizibil.”
I frowned. “What’d she say?”
“Invisible,” Ezra replied. “Once the magic sets, no one will see it.”
My breath left me in a humorless laugh. “Then how will she know I’ve moved on?”
Ezra spoke softly to our sisters before stepping closer and leaning in, her voice low against my ear. “She’s gone, Cal. Dead to us. Grieve if you need to—but leave her where she belongs. In the past.”
The machine buzzed to life.
