He didn't sleep that night.
Neither did she.
They sat by a dying fire, the crackle of embers the only thing daring to break the silence. The forest felt wrong now—alert, listening, aware of them.
Of her.
She hugged her knees, staring at the mark as it pulsed faintly, like a second heartbeat.
"You knew," she said quietly.
He didn't deny it.
"I suspected," he corrected. "I didn't want to be right."
She laughed weakly. "That's comforting."
He finally looked at her then, really looked—her pale face smudged with blood and ash, eyes reflecting firelight, strength hidden beneath fear.
"I should leave," she said suddenly. "I'm dangerous."
The words cut deeper than any blade.
He stood, crossing the distance between them in two strides. "No."
"You don't understand—"
"I understand perfectly," he snapped. "I understand that Mark hunts you because your blood can open doors that should stay buried. I understand that if he gets you, the world burns."
She swallowed. "And yet you stay."
His hand rose, hesitating inches from her face before cupping her cheek gently.
"Because I've already lost everything once," he said. "I won't do it again."
Her breath hitched.
This was a mistake.
They both knew it.
But when she leaned into his touch, when her fingers curled into his shirt as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded in reality, he knew he was already damned.
Her lips brushed his.
Soft.
Uncertain.
The world shattered.
The kiss burned—desperate, forbidden, heavy with everything they hadn't said. His hands tightened at her waist as if anchoring himself, as if letting go would tear him apart. She kissed him like she was afraid he'd disappear if she didn't.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless, foreheads touching, he whispered, "This changes everything."
She nodded. "I know."
The forest answered again.
Slow clapping echoed through the trees.
"Well," a familiar voice drawled, smooth as poison, "isn't this touching?"
The shadows parted.
Mark stepped forward.
Alive.
Smiling.
And very pleased.
She froze.
The mark on her wrist screamed.
"Run," he told her softly, already drawing his blade.
She didn't.
Because Mark's eyes were on her, glowing with triumph.
"I finally found you," he said. "And this time, no one will save you."
The first strike came fast.
Blood followed.
And the night descended into chaos.