"You're hiding something, Aria," Luca said suddenly, his voice low but harsh as he rounded me in the deserted corridor outside the pack's dining hall.
Startled, I blinked at him. "Exchange me? „
"You heard me." His gray eyes narrowed; his posture stiff as if he were poised to attack should I try to dispute it. "You have been burying yourself in the archives, missing training, sneaking out at night. For what are you looking for."
"Why do you give a damn? I reflex back, my pulse racing.
"Because it is my business if it influences the pack."
"You mean if it affects you," he said stinging, a chilly reminder of how little he considered me.
"Don't play games with me, Sterling," Luca said, leaning forward and lowering his voice to a menacing whisper. "You would be better starting to discuss that mark—about this bond."
I answered his look, not backing down. And now, about you? Luca, you are not exactly a transparent book. You have what hidden?"
His jaw tensed, then before he could reply a familiar voice cut off.
Everything all right here."
With his hands buried in his pockets, Kieran's laid-back drawl resonated down the hall as he came. He looked between us, his dark eyes lingering on Luca's tight stance.
"Just a friendly chat," I said, passed Luca before he could stop me.
Kieran mumbled, "Sure looked friendly," then dropped into stride next to me. "What's his problem this time?""'
I shook my head, ideas flying through me. "Luca always finds trouble with me. Not anything fresh.
Kieran refrained from pressing the matter even though he did not seem convinced.
I woke from a restless sleep that evening as the mark on my wrist burned like fire. More clear this time: a shadowed figure standing at the edge of the woodland, their brilliant eyes locked on me, returning the vision from before.
My chest constricted as a low, eerie voice murmured across the mist of my brain. Discover the truth, or lose all.
I jolted straight, breathing in short, breaths. Though the room was dark, my mark created ghostly shadows on the walls. I knew I wouldn't get calm until I grasped what was happening.
Driven to get answers, I headed for the archives early the following morning. The old writings of the pack included bits of our history, tales of the Moon Goddess and the ties she created. Still, the more I looked, the more questions I found.
One book described a prohibited ceremony, a link cut off by betrayal. Another brought up the Mate's Mark as a sign of hardships that, under wrong hands, can wipe out a pack. None of it, though, addressed the reason I had been marked.
I lost all awareness of the footsteps behind me until it was too late; I was totally absorbed in my study.
"What activity are you engaged in."
Clutching the book to my chest, I whirled around to discover Luca waiting in the doorway. Though his countenance was unreadable, his eyes were keen, absorbing the strewn books and the frantic glance across my face.
I answered succinctly, "research," and turned back to the table.
For what exactly? He moved forward, his presence overwhelming in the little area.
"Answers," I said with grudging compliance. " About the mark. on us.
Luca's stillness was weighty, and I glanced at him. His jaw was stiff, his eyes fixated on the open book before me.
At last he said, "You won't find what you're looking for here."
I scowled. And you would know that how? \\"
He hesitated, and I glimpsed the flutter of something in his eyes—guilt? Recurrence of regret
"I have also perused those books," he remarked, his voice low. "They withhold the whole narrative from you."
Then what happens? "I asked, approaching more closely."
I briefly considered him not responding. He groaned again and ran a hand over his hair. "Come alongside me."
Luca took me to the wing of his family, a section of the pack house I hardly visited. Here the air seemed heavier, the weight of generations down like a physical force.
Stopped in front of a door, he pushed it open to expose an old document and relic chamber. A pedestal in the middle of the room stood on which a worn-out journal lay.
"This belonged to my mother," he remarked softly, his customary arrogance gone. My heart thumping, I gazed at the diary. "Your mother,"„
"She was investigating the Mate's Mark prior to her death," he remarked with strained voice. She believed it related to something more sinister, something greater.
With shaky fingers, I reached for the journal and opened it. Notes and doodles abound on the pages, together with crescent mark designs showing their relationship to the Moon Goddess. One item drew my attention:
"Those who bear it must face the shadows of their past to unlock their future; the mark is a bond, but also a key; its purpose is not love but power."
As I turned the pages, my breath stopped, and their meaning sank in. "What this implies?"
Luca met me with a grim look. "It implies the Goddess did not mark us in line with decency. She identified us for a certain use. And should we fail to ascertain what it is, the pack could pay the cost.
The room appeared to get colder as Luca's words weight dropped over me. The symbol on my wrist throbbed once again, and in the hush I could have vowed to have heard my mother murmur, "The past will not stay buried."