"Gone?" The word catches in my throat, almost breaking. I stare at my sister, Grace, hardly able to believe it.
We stand in the hospital corridor, fluorescent lights casting a glow over everything. The beeps of machines and the faint scent of antiseptic surround us. Yet in this moment, the world feels different—brighter, more alive. But beneath the joy, an uneasy flutter lodges beneath my skin, near the faint mark at my collarbone—a reminder of the price paid for this miracle.
He really did it.
"Yeah," she laughs, eyes shining with a light I haven't seen in months. "They said the tumor is gone. They told me to take it as a miracle."
A laugh chokes out of me as I throw my arms around her, holding her tight. Her brunette hair tickles my cheek, but all I can feel is the phantom burn of the mark beneath my collarbone.
Grace squeezes me tighter, mistaking my trembling for joy, and I cling to her like I'll fall apart if I let go. My knuckles whiten as they grip her back, breath hitching mid-laugh.
Meanwhile, heat radiates from the mark, pulling my thoughts back to him, Adrial, and the way his voice curled around me like smoke.
"I'm so happy for you," I whisper, throat tight with more than relief.
Tears sting my eyes. I try to blink them away, but they spill over anyway, dampening her shirt. My chest aches with relief…and with the weight of what I traded for it.
I pull back just enough to swipe at my eyes, vision blurring.
"They still want to run some more tests—just to be sure—but everything looks good." Her smile is so bright it almost hurts to look at.
"Yeah, whatever they need to do," I nod as we walk down the hallway past beeping monitors and the steady movement of nurses and doctors.
I try to mirror her smile, but the mark hums in rhythm with my heartbeat. It's like it's alive, sensing my emotions, thriving off my relief as if it remembers the whispered vows and deep cuts that summoned Adrial, demanding something unspoken, yet undeniably binding.
Grace beams at me, oblivious. If she knew what I'd given—what I'd promised—would she still look at me with so much love?
My thoughts betray me, slipping back to Adrial: those haunting red eyes raking over me, lingering. The memory of his touch sears my skin, impossible to forget. A cold tendril of fear snakes through my mind, whispering resistance. I shake my head, willing it away, but the images press harder as his hands pin me close, breath hot against my ear, dark velvet voice whispering, You are mine.
I can almost feel him behind me, hands sliding up my body, claiming every inch. My breath snags, thighs pressing together as if that could smother the sudden ache low in my stomach.
Not here. God, not here. I knew the bargain would haunt me, but not like this. Not now.
His breath ghosts hot against my ear, phantom and real all at once: You are mine.
I stumble, catching myself with a cough so Grace won't notice. She keeps talking, bright and alive, while I burn from the inside out—marked, trembling, haunted by the Fallen who branded me.
"I have to stop at the pharmacy on our way home," she says, pushing the door open, swinging us into the crisp evening air. I follow, clutching the faint heat of the mark beneath my shirt. My legs wobble slightly, each step a reminder of the ritual, the blood, the vow.
"That's fine, I can pick up some candy."
We reach my car, and I almost collapse into the driver's seat, fumbling with my seat belt. Grace climbs in beside me, humming softly, but my mind isn't on her. The mark throbs beneath my skin, alive, and with every heartbeat, I feel him coiled inside me.
I start the engine. The hum of the car is oddly comforting. The pulsing of the mark subsides just enough for me to breathe, though residual heat lingers low in my stomach.
The streets are quiet, streetlights stretching in long pools across the asphalt. The city smells faintly of rain and exhaust, but beneath that, something darker clings—a whisper of what's come before.