Chapter 4

Three days in medical.

Three days of silver slowly leaching from my system.

Three days of listening to wedding preparations through the walls.

"Visitor," the guard announced.

I didn't look up.

"She's not receiving—"

"She'll receive me."

Ronan's voice.

And another scent.

Snow and roses.

Her.

"What fresh hell is this?"

Seraphina swept in first, ethereal in white silk, her hand possessively wrapped around Ronan's arm.

"I wanted to see the famous Shadow Blade." Her accent was thick, deliberately sweet. "Ronan speaks so highly of your... skills."

"How nice."

"You look terrible." She tilted her head, eyes scanning my bandaged torso. "Does it hurt very much?"

"Not as much as watching you play concerned."

Her smile sharpened.

"Ronan, darling, what is that?" She pointed at my neck. "That mark—"

My hand flew to the spot instinctively.

The old bond mark was gone—I'd clawed it out myself.

But underneath was something older.

The phoenix.

A soul brand I'd carved into my own flesh at seventeen, the night Ronan first claimed me.

"It's nothing," Ronan said too quickly.

"That's a bond glyph." Seraphina's voice went cold. "A permanent one."

"It's old—"

"How old?" She turned on him. "Ronan, you said there was no one before me."

"There wasn't—"

"Then explain the phoenix." She jabbed a finger toward me. "That's a paired mark. Where's yours?"

Ronan's jaw clenched.

Seraphina's eyes widened.

"You have one. Oh my God, you have one too."

"Had," he corrected. "I had it removed years ago."

Lie.

I'd seen it three weeks ago, hidden beneath his left ribs.

"She still has hers," Seraphina hissed. "She's still marked as yours."

"It doesn't mean anything—"

"It means she thinks she has a claim!" Seraphina's composure cracked. "Remove it. Now."

"Seraphina—"

"I am your fiancée, Ronan. Your future Luna." She stepped closer to me, her scent deliberately aggressive. "And I will not share my territory with a marked female."

"It's just a tattoo—"

"It's a soul brand!" She whirled on him. "You know what that means in the old ways. As long as she carries your mark, your wolf will always recognize her as—"

"Fine." Ronan cut her off. "Fine. I'll handle it."

My blood went cold.

"Handle what?"

He pulled out his phone.

"Dex. My office. Now."

"Ronan—"

"Bring your kit."

Dex Marlowe.

The pack's brand artist.

The only wolf capable of altering soul marks.

"No." I tried to sit up. "You can't—"

"I can, and I will." His eyes were empty. "You're pack property, Lyra. I decide what marks you carry."

"That mark is mine—"

"Everything about you is mine." He stepped closer. "Including your skin."

Ten minutes later, Dex arrived with his silver-laced needles and ink.

"Alpha." He looked between us, clearly uncomfortable. "What am I—"

"The phoenix on her neck." Ronan's voice was flat. "Cover it."

"Cover it with what?"

Seraphina smiled.

"The Dragunov crest. The double-headed snow wolf."

Dex paled.

"Alpha, you understand what you're asking? A soul brand can't just be covered. To override it, I have to—"

"Destroy the original binding, I know." Ronan wouldn't look at me. "Do it."

"That will sever any spiritual connection between you two—"

"Do it."

My wolf howled inside my chest.

"Ronan, please—"

"Quiet." He nodded at Dex. "Begin."

Dex approached slowly, needles gleaming.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

The first needle pierced my skin.

Agony.

Not physical pain—deeper.

Soul-deep.

The phoenix began to burn from the inside out, Dex's silver ink destroying the original binding line by line.

I bit through my lip to keep from screaming.

Seraphina watched, smile triumphant.

Ronan stood with his back turned.

"Almost done," Dex muttered. "Now for the new mark."

The double-headed wolf took shape over my phoenix's ashes.

The Dragunov crest.

Her family.

Her claim.

My skin bled and burned as the foreign symbol embedded itself where Ronan's mark used to live.

When Dex finally pulled back, I looked in the mirror he offered.

The phoenix was gone.

Completely erased.

In its place: two silver wolves, heads raised in domination.

"Perfect." Seraphina's voice was sugar-sweet. "Now everyone will know she belongs to our alliance."

Not to Ronan.

To the alliance.

To politics.

To nothing.

I touched the fresh brand, and felt absolutely empty.

"Are we done?" My voice sounded dead even to me.

"Not quite." Seraphina pulled something from her purse. "One more thing."

A collar.

Silver-threaded, delicate, with a small tag.

Property of Vesper Pack.

"Put it on her."

"Seraphina—" Even Ronan sounded uncertain.

"She's a blade, isn't she? Your weapon?" Seraphina's eyes glittered. "Weapons should be labeled."

Silence stretched.

Then Ronan took the collar.

Stepped toward me.

"Don't." My voice broke. "Please don't."

His hands were steady as he fastened it around my throat.

Right over the fresh brand.

"There," Seraphina breathed. "Now she knows her place."

She left, trailing satisfaction.

Dex packed his kit quickly, eyes averted.

Ronan started to follow.

"Did you ever love me?"

He stopped at the door.

Didn't turn around.

"Love isn't enough to build a kingdom."

"That's not what I asked."

Silence.

"It doesn't matter anymore."

The door closed.

I sat alone, wearing another woman's mark and a collar that named me property.

My phone buzzed.

My father's number.

"It's time," I said before he could speak. "Tonight."

"Are you sure?"

I looked at my reflection—branded, collared, owned.

"Burn it all."

"What?"

"The identity, the extraction plan, everything." My smile was savage. "Lyra Hale doesn't get to fade quietly."

"What are you planning?"

I touched the collar, then the Dragunov crest burning on my neck.

"They wanted to erase me." My wolf stirred, dark and hungry. "Let's show them what happens when you try to bury a phoenix."

"Lyra—"

"Dad. Have everything ready."

I hung up.

Looked at the medical supplies on the tray.

Grabbed a scalpel.

This collar was coming off.

And I was taking some of Ronan's territory with me when I left.