Page 63 of Balance

This—everything that had just happened and what I’d learned—was something theyshouldknow. But at the same time, I struggled with jealousy, not wanting to share any part of her with anyone else.

But she nodded, and my resolve solidified. This was no time to be selfish.

“Then I’ll take care of it, baby girl.” I tucked her closer to me, until her head rested snugly under my chin. Her violent trembling had subsided, and she fell perfectly in place against me.

We were almost finished. I’d already pushed her too far.

Yet, there was still one more matter that needed discussing.

“There’s something I’ve been wondering.” I tried to keep my tone light.

“What is it?” she asked, exhaustion lacing her voice.

Another stab of guilt tore through me. We’d hiked long and hard today, and she had already been anxious about Miles and upset from earlier.

Still, this would only take a moment. Besides, I was sure I already knew the answer.

But Titus had wanted to make certain, and there hadn’t been a good opportunity to ask. With the way she closed off her emotions, there might not be another chance for a while.

So I pressed forward. “You’ve always had that mark on your chest?”

The answer was obvious from her sudden, wary, tension. “Y-y-yes.”

I knew it. I almost couldn’t breathe.

“Other people have seen it?” I fought to keep the urgency from my voice. I’d be surprised if they hadn’t, considering the nature of her abuse.

“Yes…”

I expected this, but her confirmation didn’t make me feel any better.

I buried my face in her hair, surrounding myself with the honeysuckle scent that always seemed to cling to her, as I willed my temper to calm.

The meanings behind our marks were well-known throughout our world, unless they were like Troy, who had no idea who we were. It was possible, but unlikely, that traffickers would not know about our society, because they worked so hard to avoid it. There was, after all, stark differences between rogues who broke from our world entirely, those who simply left their packs, and rogues who had been sheltered from the beginning. Gloria and Troy were both examples of the last two.

These marks were always meant to be a sign, a source of protection for us, amongst other things. If she always had it, and others had certainly seen it, this meant that Eric Richards—and anyone else who’d ever touched her—had almost certainly knownexactlywho she was.

Chapter Fourteen

Bianca

Crumbs

I woke early and rubbed my fists against my eyes as I tried to block out the growing light and the intrusive sounds of happy chirping. Birds, who should have known better than to be up this early. And the sun was… meh, which was doubly more intrusive when shining through bright orange nylon.

“Sorry.” Titus, who’d been the one to shake me out of my slumber, sat cross-legged on the floor of the tent near my head. “But we’ll need to get moving soon if we want to catch up to Miles today,” he added, leaning forward and brushing my hair behind my ear. “It’s late already.”

“What time is it?” I asked, voice groggy with sleep.

Or maybe my throat was still sore from still-healing damage, my constant state of anxiety, yelling, holding my breath, and crying. That would do it too.

Despite that, there was something different today—something I couldn’t quite place. There was a lightness to the air, and the suffocating sense of impending doom that seemed to follow me everywhere—even when I tried to ignore it—no longer made my chest feel tight.

We would find Miles soon, and my hip was no longer aching. This might actually be a good day.

“It’s eight in the morning,” Titus answered. “The sun rose about a half-hour ago. We let you sleep in.”

“Eight is not sleeping in,” I muttered, pulling the blanket back over my face. This had been my first time sleeping with Damen, who had made a nest of sleeping bags for us to lay on, had stayed with me all night, with the others joining the tent later, and even after he’d left before the sun even rose, it’d been comfortable enough. “Let me have ten more minutes.”