Page 119 of Claimed In Darkness

"Let me guess," I say, voice even, cool, unconcerned.

"You want to put a collar around my throat and turn me into your new favorite pet?"

The men around him bristle.

Zephiran stills beside me.

The air tightens.

And the old man—he smiles.

Like he expected this.

Like he knew exactly what I would say.

That pisses me off.

"We want to give you a purpose," he says.

I do laugh this time.

A sharp, wicked sound.

"That’s a fancy way of saying you want to use me."

He does not deny it.

Instead, he steps forward.

Too close.

Too calm.

"You are changing," he says simply.

I freeze.

Not outwardly.

Not visibly.

But inside—I feel the shift.

He sees it.

Sees what Zephiran has been afraid to name.

Sees the thing that has been unraveling inside me since the moment I touched that relic.

"You cannot stop it," he continues, voice soft, smooth, full of something too close to pity.

Like he knows.

Like he has seen something like this before.

That is when I start to feel something close to fear.

If he has seen this before—then I am not the first.

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