“I burned the note.”
“Which one?”
“The rot suits you.”
His jaw tightens just enough to show it wasn’t from him. Great. I fucking love that for me.One more mystery to choke on. “Something’s inside me,” I snap. “Something I didn’t invite.”
“No. You just answered the door.”
I step closer, fury rolling off me in waves. “This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“You knew Elias touched me. You didn’t stop it.”
“Would you have listened?” I hate that he is right.
“He changed something,” I say, voice low. “And I don’t know what. I’m seeing shit. Feeling things that aren’t mine. And now there’s this fucking symbol…”
“Show me.”
“It’s not there anymore.”
“Then draw it.”
“I don’t want to.”
“But you will.”
Fuck him…he is right. Again.
I grab the pen from his desk. Drag a torn sheet from a ledger and begin drawing. The symbol pours out of me like it’s etched in my veins. When I finish, I slide it across the desk. He doesn’t touch it. He just looks at it…and goes still. “What is it?” I ask.
“A scar,” he says. “Worn by something older than plague. Older than death.”
“Then how do I have it?”
His eyes lift. There’s no warmth in them. No softness. Only the weight of a truth too ancient to unlearn.
He leans forward, slow and deliberate, like proximity might damn me further.
“Because Elias touched you.”
The words hit like a blade to the gut—slow, cold, final.
My breath stutters. “I didn’t ask him to.”
Riven’s gaze sharpens, brutal and unflinching.
“But you didn’t stop him, either.”
My hand clenches. “You want me to beg for forgiveness?”
He stands. Crosses the room. Stops a breath away from me. “I don’t want your apology.” He takes my wrist. Gentle. Reverent. “I want your focus.”
“Why?”
“Because others will come.”
