I stood in the middle of my father's empty tent, the silver collar heavy in my hand. My name was engraved on it in sharp, ugly letters. The smaller one beside it had no name, just the word "bastard" carved deep. The metal was cold, but the witch's mark on my chest burned like it recognized its own work.
Darius's growl rumbled behind me. Kane's knife was already out, edge catching the low firelight. Rylan's claws punched through his fingertips, his breath coming fast and ragged.
I closed my fist around the collar until the edges bit into my palm. "He left this for me. Not for the pack. For me."
Darius stepped closer, his hand settling low on my belly like he could shield the child from the metal. The flutter answered, sharp and angry, like the kid knew exactly what the collar meant. "He's trying to break you before the full moon. Make you doubt."
