Chapter 34 Tobias
TOBIAS
The living room is quiet except for Taren and Red’s voices. They’re sitting at the table surrounded by open books and sketches, comparing notes like professors preparing for their next class. Outside, the pack is preparing for our guests.
Apparently, Forest called in the cavalry.
Two more packs are arriving today, along with a couple of rogue shifters that Neal knows from the city. It all seems unreal that they would do all this for me or for Jericho. It’s unreal that we even have to.
Ivy plops down next to me. “What’s that?”
I turn the digital camera to reveal a photo I had taken earlier this morning before Rowen caught me outside and nearly had a hernia. He, and the others actually, have forbidden me to go outside now that Rip knows where I am.
They allow Jericho, of course, even though he’s hunted too. But he isn’t a weak human like I am.
Ivy smiles at the photo. “Beautiful.”
She’s almost completely healed. Red’s magic plus shifter healing is a miraculous thing. But I can’t look her in the eyes yet. Too clouded with guilt. It’s my fault she was hurt.
Jasmine calls Ivy outside. Ivy squeezes my knee before walking away.
The camera keeps me grounded. Gives me something to focus on.
It always has. Framing the world through a lens makes everything quieter, more controlled.
But even through the viewfinder today, my thoughts won’t stop looping back to last night: the raven attack, Rowen’s claiming bite, Rip’s sudden anger.
Always Rip.
His anger overshadows the joy I should be feeling. Rowen claimed me, marked me as his—yet all I can think about is the damn vampire.
“…it’s definitely changed,” Taren says, drawing my attention.
She’s studying the page laid out before her.
Probably the inked diagram of the mark on my shoulder.
“Look here. The lines are bolder now, and some of them have deepened enough that I can see structure beneath. That was impossible to see before, buried under everything else.”
Red hums. “So it’s as we feared. The bond evolved.”
“The only question is, how? I don’t get how he could’ve changed it without touching Tobias.” Taren traces one line with her fingertip. “Before, I thought there were three distinct rune layers. Ownership, protection, and the time sequence. But now…” She taps her pen. “I think there are four.”
“Four? Is that even possible? I’ve heard of two runes working together, but that many?”
She nods. “It’s definitely possible. It’s just difficult to do.”
“Could one of them be the Shadow Bond?”
Taren shakes her head. “Based on my research, the Shadow Bond doesn’t originate from a rune or sigil. It’s more an intent to bind other spells.”
“So the protection, ownership, and time?”
“Exactly.” She taps her finger on the paper. “It’s why I’m trying to figure out the last mark. I know I’ve seen it somewhere, but I can’t…” She trails off, thinking.
My fingers tighten around the camera. All this talk about the mark and its purpose, along with the increased heat beneath my skin… takes me back to the night when Orem placed it there. When he burned it into me.
I exhale slowly through my nose. He’s not here.
The tug in my skull seems to vibrate, as if laughing. He’s never far away now.
I grit my teeth.
“It makes sense that Orem used blood for this, though,” Taren says.
“What do you mean?” Red asks.
“Well, it’s simple. Blood amplifies the flow of magic through the sigil. With this many, he would’ve needed something to fuse the symbols. Otherwise, they would’ve worked against each other.” Taren’s voice lowers, but whatever she says is lost to the sudden pounding in my ears.
“Holy shit.” I sit up, mouth going dry. Blood. How could I have forgotten?
“Taren,” I say. Both she and Red look up. “We know Rip used his blood to create the mark on me, but what if…” I shiver, the pieces clicking together. “What if he did the same thing on himself?”
“What makes you think that?”
I grip the camera tighter, knuckles white.
The words tumble out before I can stop them.
“Orem took some blood from me that night. I completely forgot about it until just now. I think he wanted me to forget.” I rub my temples.
I’m sure of it. He wiped my memory. “Rip didn’t want him to—he didn’t want… ” Fuck, why can’t I remember?
Taren crosses the room. “Just tell me what you know.”
“Orem and Rip were talking across the room. Then they came to me and drugged me. Rip cut his wrist and used his blood to draw the mark. But Orem—before he sealed it…” I close my eyes, trying to picture the scene in my head.
I can almost feel the chill of the floor, the burn of the chains. Hear their voices.
The tug in my skull seems to vibrate, like Rip doesn’t want me to figure this out. Too fucking bad. I dig deeper.
I can see Orem and Rip fighting by the stage, Orem pointing at me, Rip shaking his head.
“He tried to get Rip to do something, but he wouldn’t.
He didn’t trust Orem. He said he wanted—he needed to see how it worked first. So Orem took my blood, and—” I snap my eyes to her.
“He said ‘you’ll change your mind eventually.’”
Taren’s golden eyes dance between mine. “So Orem always intended to use your blood on Rip?”
I nod, skin going cold. “What if he used it to mirror the mark or something? Like a reflection. Could that make it stronger?”
Her mind is already racing. “A mirrored rune… created with blood…” She returns to the table, flipping back through the pages of a thick leather-bound textbook. “Wait a minute. That would create a—oh gods.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “An Eclipse Seal.”
I frown. “A what?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Her face has gone pale.
“It’s a deeply forbidden evolution of the Shadow Bond.
It doesn’t just bind the symbols together; it binds the person to the creator.
Centuries ago, vampires experimented with it during their blood slave rituals.
They banned it after humans were lost to it. ”
My heartbeat stumbles. “Lost to it how?”
“Do you remember the history of the vampire slaves? They’d become dependent on the vampire and would do what they wanted?
It’s because of marks like this. This kind of spell creates a bond so powerful that it eclipses another person,” she says.
“The ownership, protection, time? It’s not just Rip’s claiming of you—it’s him consuming you.
The sigil on you acts like the moon during an eclipse, absorbing light—your essence, your autonomy.
When Rip—if this is what he did—mirrored it on himself using your blood, the two marks aligned like the sun and moon crossing.
The result isn’t balance. It’s occlusion.
Your light dims beneath his shadow. He can pass his will through the bond until—”
“He controls me,” I say, shaking.
Taren’s silence is answer enough.
The room tilts.
So Jericho was right. They’re reviving the blood slaves.
Red mutters a curse, dragging a hand through his hair.
A sharp tug in my chest makes me snap my eyes to the doorway, where Rowen is standing, hand gripping the doorway with white knuckles. He must’ve felt my growing anxiety and came running. From the look on his face, he’d heard everything.
Taren exhales shakily. “It explains the change in the sigil too. He must’ve sealed it on his end, which triggered the eclipse.”
“So what does this mean for Tobias?” Red asks.
She sucks in a breath. “Well, it evolves, just like an eclipse. It happens slowly. The full alignment can take time—days, weeks maybe. Once complete…” She stops herself.
“What happens then?” Rowen demands.
Her voice cracks when she answers. “Tobias will lose himself completely.”
I can’t breathe. I’m suddenly freezing, though sweat slicks the back of my neck. That tugging I felt in the darkroom, the first time I heard the whispers—it had been his voice. The pull beneath my ribs when Rip spoke in my head—my gods.
I thought it was my bloodline. Thought I was losing my mind, like my mother.
Was it really him all along? Through the Shadow Bond? And now this…
I press a hand to my neck. The energy thrums there, like something… alive.
A whisper, oily and smug comes through. See? I own you.
I get to my feet, snarling before I can stop it. “Get out of my head, asshole! You don’t own me!”
Rowen’s beside me in an instant, his hand on my face, grounding me. But the world’s gone off-kilter. My pulse hammers in my ears.
Rip’s voice slinks through my mind, cruel and familiar. Eventually you’ll come to me, Tobias. Just wait.
“Stop it!” I shout, half rising. “Shut up, shut up, shut up—”
Rowen catches my arms, holding me steady. “Toby. Look at me. He’s not here. You’re safe.”
Safe. Right. How am I safe when the thing living in my mark isn’t miles away—it’s inside me?
My stomach lurches. I shove away from him and stumble to the kitchen, barely making it to the sink before I throw up. Acid burns my throat, tears sting my eyes. Voices blur behind me.
My hands shake as I grip the sink. “If he controls me, if I hurt someone—”
“You won’t,” Rowen says, but his voice trembles too.
I stare down at the drain, breathing hard. My reflection in the metal is warped, the edges of my face twisting with each breath. I can almost see Rip’s grin there, faint in the dirty water.
You can’t fight me forever.
I slam my palm against the counter and pull on that other part of me—the part he can’t touch. Rip forgets who I am, what I am. I’m a half-blood. I’m stronger than a human.
And I’m bound to a wolf.
I grit my teeth at Rip’s face. “Watch me.”
The steady low growl of engines outside pulls me back to reality.
Red glances through the window, then gets to his feet. “They’re here.”
Rowen offers me a drink of water, then pulls me in for a long, tight hug. I can feel his dread, his anxiety. But also his courage. I lean into that. Hard. I’m going to need it in the days to come.
“I love you,” I whisper. “Please. Whatever happens, don’t doubt that.”
He kisses my head.
A few moments later, a tall man with dark graying hair fills the doorway like a storm—quiet, charged, and dangerous.
Rowen steps forward, his spine straightening. “William, it’s good to see you.”
The taller man greets Rowen with a firm handshake. “Same.” William’s voice is deep, but calm. His gaze shifts to me, sees our joined hands, and he smiles. “When you said someone was marked, I didn’t realize you meant claimed.”
Rowen laughs, pulling me closer. “This is my fated mate, Tobias. Toby, meet William Hollister. He’s a longtime family friend from Spokane.”
“Fated,” William breathes. “Wow. It’s an honor to meet you.”
My stomach twists again. Honor? Is he for real? I want to shrink into the wall. I can only pray he can’t still smell the vomit on me.
William studies me for a long time before turning back to Rowen. “Is he the reason we’re here, though?”
Rowen nods. “Part of it, yes. Jericho is wanted by the coven too, as you know.”
William steps closer, then hesitates. “May I see it for myself? I know a thing or two about ancient runes.”
Rowen warned me this would happen—the other alphas would need to see it for themselves before they believed the danger.
I turn away but pull my sleeve up.
William doesn’t touch me as he bends to examine the mark. “This is old magic. Layered. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were building.” He leans closer, squinting at the fine lines that shimmer beneath my skin. “Is that a Veil rune?”
Taren gasps. “Oh, my stars! Of course!” She scrambles through her notes, comparing them to the photos. Her eyes go wide.
Rowen frowns. “What’s a Veil rune?”
William clenches his jaw. “Essentially, a silencing rune. The more control the creator gains, the less Tobias will be able to speak about it. He won’t be able to warn us. Won’t even be able to say Rip’s name if the bond completes. It’s the oldest kind of slavery—make the victim your secret keeper.”
Rowen tugs my sleeve back down.
William straightens, jaw tight. “Fortunately for us, we know what we’re doing too. They don’t stand a chance when they come.”He turns to address his pack. All seven of them have lined up against the window, awaiting orders.
“Forest suggested a perimeter run first thing. Let’s haul our shit to the spare rooms and move out.”
They instantly obey. The house becomes loud with the sound of boots and bags moving around. But even as everything moves forward, the chill under my skin stays. The thrum in my skull vibrates, faint but unmistakable.
Rowen’s hand finds mine, grounding me again. His warmth cuts through the numbness for a moment.
“You still with me?” he murmurs.
I nod, though my voice barely works. “Yeah.”
I don’t say what I feel. I can’t. Because if Taren is right—if this thing is growing, eclipsing—I don’t know how long I will still be here. I don’t know how long I’ll be me.
And worse, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to talk about it.