THE MARK OF THE WOLF

Chapter 15 

The Mark of the Wolf

The night air was thick with the scent of blood and damp earth. The attack had come swiftly—too swiftly. One moment, Isla had been walking alongside Lucian through the dense forest, his hand wrapped protectively around hers. The next, a blur of fur and fangs had ripped her from his grasp, throwing her to the ground with bone-jarring force.

Lucian had fought them off, his movements a deadly blur. Isla barely remembered the chaos—only the flash of silver eyes, the searing pain as claws raked across her arm, and the haunting snarl that echoed in her ears before the werewolves vanished into the darkness.

Now, she lay in Lucian's bed, her breath shallow as the pain pulsed through her.

Lucian knelt beside her, his expression carved from stone as he ran a damp cloth over the wound. His touch was gentle, but she could feel the tension in his fingers.

"They marked you," he murmured, voice laced with fury.

Isla blinked up at him, still dazed. "What?"

His jaw tightened. "It's not just a wound." He turned her arm slightly, revealing the strange black sigil that had begun to form over her skin. It wasn't a normal scar—it twisted and pulsed, as if alive, dark veins spreading outward like roots.

A chill crept down Isla's spine. "What does it mean?"

Lucian's eyes darkened. "It means Elias has claimed you."

Isla tried to sit up, but Lucian pressed a firm hand to her shoulder. "Don't," he said. "Not yet."

His voice was strained, and when she looked into his eyes, she saw something she had never seen before. Fear.

Her heart pounded. "Lucian, what's happening to me?"

Lucian exhaled slowly, as if trying to hold himself together. "This mark… it's a werewolf sigil, an ancient one. It means Elias, their Alpha, has chosen you. If the mark completes its transformation…" He hesitated. "You will no longer be human."

The words hit Isla like a punch to the chest.

"No," she whispered. "That can't be possible."

"It is." Lucian's voice was tight, controlled, but his grip on her hand was unsteady. "It's a ritual as old as their kind. Once the mark fully takes hold, your body will begin to change. You'll become one of them."

Panic rose in Isla's throat. "How do we stop it?"

Lucian hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then he said, "We find someone who can break it."

Isla frowned. "Who?"

Lucian's expression darkened. "An old friend."

The journey was brutal. Lucian carried Isla through the darkened woods, his movements swift and silent. The sigil pulsed beneath her skin, burning hotter with every passing hour.

By dawn, they had reached the outskirts of an abandoned village, long reclaimed by the forest. A decrepit stone house loomed at its center, vines twisting over its walls like skeletal fingers.

Lucian set Isla down carefully before knocking on the heavy wooden door.

Silence.

Then, a voice from within. Low, amused. "You've got some nerve showing up here, Lucian."

The door creaked open, revealing a tall figure with piercing violet eyes and a wicked grin. His silver hair was disheveled, his clothes slightly tattered, but there was something undeniably magnetic about him.

Isla immediately felt the tension between them.

Lucian's expression remained impassive. "We need your help, Dorian."

Dorian leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Oh? And what trouble have you brought to my doorstep this time?"

Lucian stepped aside, revealing Isla. Dorian's gaze flicked to the mark on her arm, and his easy demeanor shifted.

His smile disappeared.

"Ah," he said softly. "I see."

Inside, the house was cluttered with ancient books, dried herbs, and strange vials filled with shimmering liquids. Dorian led them into a candlelit room, motioning for Isla to sit on the worn velvet couch.

He crouched in front of her, tracing a finger lightly over the sigil. Isla shivered as a strange energy pulsed through her.

Dorian's brows furrowed. "This isn't just any mark. Elias infused his power into it." His gaze flicked to Lucian. "Breaking it won't be easy."

Lucian's fists clenched. "Can you do it?"

Dorian smirked. "Of course. But it comes at a price."

Lucian exhaled sharply. "Name it."

Dorian's eyes gleamed with mischief. "A favor. One I can call in whenever I like."

Lucian's hesitation was brief. "Done."

Dorian's smile widened. "I do love when you're desperate."

Dorian began the ritual, drawing symbols around Isla's body in dark ink. The air grew heavy, crackling with unseen energy.

Lucian sat beside her, his hand intertwined with hers.

"Stay with me," he murmured.

She squeezed his fingers. "Always."

As Dorian began chanting, the sigil on Isla's arm pulsed violently. Pain seared through her, forcing a cry from her lips. Lucian held her close, his lips brushing against her temple, whispering words of reassurance.

Then suddenly, the pain stopped.

The room went silent.

The sigil on Isla's arm had faded, replaced by a faint scar.

Lucian exhaled in relief, pressing a fierce kiss to her forehead. Isla sagged against him, exhausted but whole.

Dorian stretched. "Well, that was fun."

Lucian shot him a glare.

Dorian chuckled. "Relax, lover boy. She's fine. For now."

Later that night, Lucian and Isla found themselves alone in one of the house's dimly lit chambers. A storm raged outside, but within these walls, everything was still.

Lucian traced his fingers over the faint scar on her arm. "I almost lost you today."

Isla cupped his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. "But you didn't."

He kissed her then, slow and reverent, as if memorizing her. Isla melted into him, her hands sliding beneath his shirt, feeling the sculpted planes of his body.

Lucian groaned as he lifted her, pressing her against the wall. His lips traveled down her throat, tracing the sensitive spots that made her shiver.

"I need you," he murmured against her skin.

"Then have me," she whispered.

Their bodies moved in sync, a slow, intimate dance of love and desperation. Every touch, every kiss, was a promise—of devotion, of protection, of something neither of them could put into words.

And as the storm raged outside, Lucian and Isla lost themselves in each other, holding onto the one thing that mattered in this chaotic world.

Each other.

But outside, beyond the sanctuary of their stolen moment, the world was shifting.

Far in the depths of the forest, beneath the silver glow of the moon, Elias stood atop a rocky outcrop, his golden eyes burning with fury.

"They think they've broken my claim," he murmured, watching the distant ruins where Lucian and Isla lay tangled in each other's arms.

A slow, predatory grin stretched across his lips.

"They have no idea what's coming."