Seris woke screaming.
Or she tried to.
No sound came out.
She lay on cold stone that pulsed faintly beneath her skin, as if the ground itself had a heartbeat. Above her stretched a sky with no stars—only slow-moving fractures of violet and black light, like wounds that never healed.
The Abyss.
Her body trembled violently as memory slammed back into her.
The forest.
The mark.
Him.
Mason.
The name burned hotter than the sigil etched into her soul.
She tried to sit up. Pain bloomed instantly—sharp, punishing—dragging a cry from her throat this time. The mark on her chest pulsed, dark and alive, its edges glowing faintly beneath her skin.
"You will not move yet."
His voice came from everywhere.
And nowhere.
Seris froze.
He emerged from the shadows without walking, without stepping—simply existing closer than he had been before. Mason stood several paces away, hands clasped behind his back, watching her with the same calm intensity one might reserve for a weapon still cooling from battle.
"You kidnapped me," she hissed.
"Yes."
No denial. No apology.
"You branded me."
"Yes."
"You—" Her voice broke. "You violated my soul."
Mason tilted his head, studying her as if she were a puzzle whose solution pleased him.
"I claimed what was already mine."
Rage flared, hot and reckless. "I will kill you."
A pause.
Then—something unexpected.
Mason smiled.
It was not cruel. Not mocking.
It was pleased.
"I look forward to watching you try."
He moved closer. Instinct screamed at her to crawl away, but her body betrayed her—locked in place by the mark, by fear, by the weight of his presence.
He stopped just before touching her.
"You feel it, don't you?" he murmured. "The bond."
Her breath stuttered. Because she did feel it.
A thread.
Dark.
Unbreakable.
Tethering her to him.
"I can feel your heart," Mason continued softly. "Every beat. Every lie. Every surge of defiance."
Her pulse betrayed her, racing wildly beneath his gaze.
"You are afraid," he said.
"I hate you," she spat.
The bond pulsed.
Mason's eyes darkened—not with anger, but something far more dangerous.
"Good," he said. "Hatred lasts longer than fear."