Page 85 of Fated to the Lone Shifter
Marcus.
***
Back in his room, Marcus is beginning to surface. The shift has wrecked him—he twitches like a dreamer caught in a nightmare, sweat beading across his brow.
I release Tori from her watch. “I appreciate….” She pats my hand. “…the gesture.” She smiles. “It will be alright.” Then she hands me a water bottle.
As she closes the door gently behind her, I kneel beside Marcus and press the bottle into his hand.
“You okay?”
His eyes flutter open, then wince. “What the hell happened to me? Why does it feel like my skin’s on backwards?”
I let out a breath. “Because you're changing. You've always been an animal, my friend. Now you're really half one.” I pause, letting the words settle. “Welcome to the pack.”
He blinks, like he’s beginning to remember what he saw. “No. No, you didn’t—”
“You didn’t leave me any choice,” I say quietly. “I couldn't have you telling our secrets.”
He jolts upright, eyes wild, backing into the corner. “No, this isn't happening.”
“Yeah,” I say. “It is. But I'm going to be here every step of the way to guide you. To protect you.”
Marcus drags a hand through his sweat-matted hair. “So you made me a monster? You had no right!”
I meet his stare. “We become what we need to be to protect our own.”
He doesn’t answer. Just stares at me, caught between the urge to punch me or bolt.
I don’t blame him. It’s a lot to take in.
And he doesn’t even know the half of it yet.
The next morning, the kitchen smells like burnt toast and overcooked eggs, but I’m barely aware of it. I walk in late, my head pounding with too many thoughts and not enough sleep. Sera’s already there, coffee mug in hand, curled over the table like she’s trying to escape inside her hoodie. She doesn’t look at me, and something in my chest twists—sharp and hollow. The space between us, once filled with heat and sparks, now echoes with silence.
“Morning,” I try.
Nothing. Not even a grunt. Her eyes stay locked on her phone, thumb scrolling slowly like she’s searching for something important—or trying to avoid something worse.
I can’t tell if she’s mad at me for not saving her or if she feels guilty for some other reason. No matter. The wall is up.
When she finally sips her coffee, I catch a glimpse of her neck.
A mark.
Barely visible. But I see it.
My gut drops. My wolf snarls.
It’s faint, but it’s there. Bode’s bite.
I grip the back of a chair, trying to keep my breathing steady. I’ve seen marks like that before—claiming bites, territorial bullshit. I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected her.
Instead, I was holed up with Marcus, playing babysitter to a new wolf.
Speaking of, Marcus stumbles into the kitchen like he’s walking through glue. His eyes are glassy, jaw twitching with confusion. He grabs the coffee pot—and nearly flings it across the room as he fumbles it in his suddenly-too-strong hands.
“Dude,” Marcus mutters. “Why does everything feel so damn light?”
