Chapter 31 Tobias
TOBIAS
My legs don’t feel like they belong to me. Each step is a fight, a slow drag through mud as I follow the muffled voices toward the medic room. The hall smells of antiseptic and copper, with magic burned into the air. My stomach twists, and I swallow hard, tasting blood where I bit my cheek.
I pause before pushing the door open, trying to gather my nerves.
Ivy sits on the examiner’s table, a navy blanket wrapped tight around her shoulders.
Her face looks too pale against it, lips colorless, and pupils too wide.
Red is beside her, left palm flat against her forehead.
Faint blue light peeks out from under his skin.
When he pulls his hand away, my throat closes.
The cut missed her right eye by less than an inch. If Rip had been any closer, he would’ve blinded her.
“Ivy, I—”
“Let me focus,” Red cuts in. I flinch.
My chest hollows out, the air gone.
Someone’s hand lands on my shoulder, but I jerk away.
Their voice is far off. Tinny. I don’t even hear half of what’s being said.
Voices rise and fall around me, a blur of overlapping questions and accusations.
Someone says Rip’s name. Someone says “attack.” Taren tries to describe what she saw: me screaming at an open window.
But all I can see is Ivy’s blood matting her hair and the horror of the ravens attacking her.
I should’ve gone. I should’ve gone with Rip when he first reached for me.
If I had…
Red glances up, his jaw tight. “You should’ve come to me.”
He doesn’t understand. I had no time.
“Or me,” Rowen growls from the corner. His shoulders are rigid, eyes burning into me. The silence before he speaks feels worse than the volume. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hearing the vamp?”
His voice cracks the air like a whip.
I look between him and Red, but I can’t make my mouth work. I’m still too stunned that it even happened. Rip spoke to me. He was in my head.
The ground tilts beneath me. My heartbeat throbs in my ears.
All I can see is Ivy’s blood… Ivy’s blood… Ivy’s blood…
“You knew. Didn’t you?” Rowen cuts in, voice cold. His fists are clenched at his sides, his breathing too fast, too loud.
He’s never been this angry with me.
“You knew something was happening, and you said nothing.”
Something snaps tight between us—like a rope straining to hold.
The words tumble out of me. “I thought it was because of the half-blood, alright? I thought the whispers—”
“Whispers? Like those voices you keep trying to pretend you don’t hear?”
“No! I mean, yes. I thought that was what my mom went through. That I…” I flinch away. “But this wasn’t like that. He’s never reached me like this. It just… happened. One second it’s the normal static, the next it’s him, telling me to come outside. Saying I’m his.”
A growl rips up Rowen’s throat. “You are not his,” he says fiercely.
I let out a broken, hollow laugh. “Aren’t I though? He branded me.”
Rowen’s jaw locks. He steps forward once—then stops, like he doesn’t trust what he’ll do if he moves closer. “That mark does not make you his any more than it defines you, Tobias. Don’t you dare give him that power. God, why didn’t you—you should’ve told me!”
His nostrils flare. For a second, I think he’s going to yell again, but instead, he turns and storms out of the room; the door slams so hard it rattles the walls. Two shifters follow, but I don’t see who. I don’t care who. The sound of their receding footsteps shatters my heart.
The tether between Rowen and me trembles. I can feel his anger like static against my skin, the tension of it humming through my veins. It doesn’t break. It never does. But the thread burns, hot and alive, a reminder of what I’m risking.
But is he really so angry with me because I couldn’t give them a warning? I had seconds—literally seconds—to even process what was happening, let alone ask for help.
I exhale shakily, looking at my shoulder, and that’s when I see it.
“Taren.”
Taren turns, eyes going wide. “Stars above.”
She yanks the sleeve up higher, getting a better look. The mark has changed. The lines are darker, bolder even, and the edges of it glow red.
I’d always assumed the red color was Rip’s blood, but what if it’s not? What if that’s Orem’s magic?
“When did this happen?”
“Just now. Today.”
Taren’s voice fades. “He’s done something.”
“Obviously!” I snap, tears brimming my vision. “How do we get rid of it!”
She shakes her head. “I-I don’t know. I don’t even know how he did this. Changed it, I mean.”
Her expression hardens, and she leaves the room, muttering something under her breath.
Red finishes with Ivy, murmuring something low and soft. She nods, still dazed, but at least the color is returning to her face. The shock fading. The cut on her forehead is mostly healed.
When she looks at me, I turn away fast, shame burning hot under my skin. Will she ever forgive me? It’s my fault she was hurt.
Red and Jasmine clean up the supplies. Jasmine’s muttering to herself about doubling border patrols. Somewhere in the house, I can hear Forest’s low voice on the phone, calling other packs.
The house has gone from tense and on edge to absolutely unbearable. The fragile bubble of safety we thought we had just popped, scattered across the floor like broken glass. Rip knows where I am now. He knows who I’m with. And he won’t wait long before coming back.
I can almost feel him pressing at the edge of my mind—like an echo in a darkened hallway. If I could just push back. Break whatever’s tying us together.
That’s it.
Maybe I can break it.
Maybe I just have to cut it out.
My vision narrows to the medical tray. The room blurs, sound falling away. My hands won’t stop shaking, and the mark burns like it was just placed there minutes ago, not months.
It’s ruining everything. He’s ruining everything.
I can’t let him ruin anything else.
I lunge for the tray and snatch the scalpel.
Jasmine gasps in horror as I twist away. One quick breath, then I drag the blade down my shoulder.
Red light flares from the cut, bright and violent, and pain sears through me like lightning. The scalpel clatters to the floor.
I drop with it, clutching my shoulder as the mark pulses, molten-hot, like it’s alive.
“Fuck!”
“Dammit, Toby,” Red mutters, kneeling beside me. He covers my arm with gauze before quickly applying his healing magic. His eyes are furious. “Why did you do that?”
“I don’t want it!”
“So you think you can cut it off?” he snaps. “Don’t you think I would’ve offered that if you could?”
I turn away, lip trembling.
“You can’t cut a mark like this off,” Red explains. “It’s protected, remember?”
“I don’t want it!” I say again. “I never wanted it.”
“I know, and we’ll find a way to remove it. But until then—”
“You don’t get it. He’s in my head now, Red. He’s in me!”
“No, he’s not. Not unless he’s controlling you.” He gives me a pointed look, silently asking if there have been other instances.
I somehow manage to shake my head.
His blue mage light flickers, turning to purple as it mixes with the red. My skin tickles as it stitches back together.
“I hate him,” I say.
“We all do.” He looks under the bandage, then peels it away. “You’re fine. Go upstairs now. Try to rest. We’ll talk about this more when everyone calms down.”
I hear the dismissal for what it is.
But like hell I’ll be able to rest after this.
The halls are dim, quiet except for the hum of distant voices.
The air feels heavier up here, like the house itself knows something’s gone wrong.
My feet carry me to the room I share with Rowen, but I pause in the entry.
Do I still have the right to be in here?
He was so furious with me. Like he wanted to hurt me.
But it doesn’t matter. I need him. I need his scent, his things. I need Rowen.
Grief hits me hard in the chest when I see the empty room. I didn’t really expect him to be here, but it hurts just the same.
I close the door behind me and sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under my weight. The blankets are still a mess from earlier, the scent of sex lingering in the air.
My hands hang between my knees. Everything feels like it’s unraveling. I want to cry, but honestly, I’m so tired of crying. I’ve done enough of that for a lifetime. So I just sit there, breathing shallowly, waiting for the panic to settle. It doesn’t. If anything, it grows.
Rip spoke to me. He’d gotten in my head.
How? Was it from proximity? Or can he reach from wherever they are?
Is it two-way? Can he hear my thoughts? I’d only known it was him because of the bracelet, but hadn’t I felt it before that?
I’ve felt that tug for a few days. Weeks, if I’m honest. His voice has only gotten clearer today.
Because he was here? Or was it because of what he did to the mark?
Why didn’t I notice when it changed?
“I didn’t ask for this,” I whisper. It wasn’t what I signed up for all those months ago, when Rip offered me money for my blood.
But now I can’t hide from it either.
Like it or not, Rip and I are connected.
I can feel him like a shadow at the edge of my thoughts, like he’s waiting to open that channel again. And no matter how much I want to deny it, refuse it, reject it… I know he’ll be able to break through, anyway.
Next time, she dies.
I drag a hand through my hair, gripping the strands hard. I’ve made such a mess of things. Will Rowen forgive me? Or Ivy? I should’ve told them I was hearing things, but would it have made any difference? The voices before weren’t him. Not exactly.
This… this isn’t my blood screwing with me. This is so much more.
I clench my jaw until it aches. I need to stop being… well, human. Weak. Rowen deserves better. Isn’t that what fate thought when it wove our hearts together?
I have to be stronger. Be worthy of being here.
If Rip can reach me through this mark, then I need to learn how to block him out. To fight back. I can’t let him use me to hurt anyone else. But how? How does a half-blood defend a pack of wolves against a coven of vampires?
The thought alone makes me want to laugh—or scream. Every time I think I’ve found a shred of power, the world reminds me what I really am: nothing. A bridge between two sides that will never fit. Maybe that’s how my mom felt. Not quite human, not quite shifter.
I lean forward, pressing my palms to my eyes. The only thing that has ever felt right in my life is being here. This place. This pack. It’s felt like home from the moment I realized I was safe.
The bond between me and Rowen hums faintly, a low vibration under my skin. I can feel his anger still burning somewhere out there, but beneath it, something else. Fear.
He’s scared for me. Maybe of me. And I can’t blame him. I’d be scared too, if it were me.
Maybe this is what Rip wanted all along—to use this connection to single me out. Make the pack turn on me. But if so, then he underestimated one thing. A pack doesn’t turn on their own, and this family has made it clear I am one of theirs. Even angry, none of them have forced me to leave.
Now it’s time to act like I deserve to be here.
Whatever that means.