Page 122 of The Immortal’s Mark

No, no, no.

“Take it off,” I demand. My hands curl into fists. They feel different now. Muted. Like my power is behind a wall I didn’t build. “Now.”

My mother’s face hardens. “No.”

“Jennifer,” Alex murmurs.

Her head snaps toward him. “You do not get an opinion here, Alex.”

She turns back to me, voice flat and final, “I will remove the spell when I return.”

Without another word, she leaves.

I stand there, stunned and trembling, staring at the doorway.

I want to scream.

I want to cry.

I want to do both until my throat is shredded.

Across the room, Alex looks like he’s about to say something, but then he presses his lips together, deciding against it.

With one last regretful glance, he leaves.

And I’m left there, restrained, humiliated, and furious, wondering how many times the people around me can keep calling my circumstances protection when it’s nothing more than a well-disguised cage.

29

DES

Months ago, Athens

The narrow stairwell inside the café is quiet as I descend, each step echoing faintly against the stone walls. The farther I move from Darcie, the louder my unease grows, coiling tight in my chest.

It begs me to return to her.

But I’ve given myself more than enough time with her—confirmed by the nagging sense of warning that haunts me with every step.

By the time I reach the street, the feeling that something is wrong is no longer a whisper but a loud certainty.

I step onto the bustling road, letting the movement of the crowd mask my pause. My gaze sweeps the area once, casual, practiced.

And then I feel it.

Not sight.

Not sound.

Presence.

Ancient. Familiar.

Watching.

A slow breath fills my lungs as I turn.

Charmian stands across the street.