Chapter 34 The Hunter's Mark

Fynn POV The safehouse door creaks again, a slow, deliberate scrape that sets my teeth on edge, the sound slicing through the tense silence. My gold light pulses in my hands, unbidden, casting jagged shadows across the stone walls, and I feel it—a hum, not the well’s, but sharp, foreign, like a blade grazing my skin. Morgan’s beside me, his blade raised, his body a wall between me and whatever’s outside. His silver eyes are locked on the door, fierce and unyielding, but I see the flicker of fear in them, the same fear tightening my chest. We’re not ready—not after the cradle, not with the pack down to four and me still fumbling with this new power I don’t understand.