Grabber had been staring at me again. Not the casual, absentminded kind of staring, either. No, this was the deliberate, weighing-and-measuring kind. His eyes tracked me the way you might watch a wild animal you’d just brought inside, not sure if it would bolt, bite, or start chewing the furniture.
Bronze was the one who finally broke the silence.
“Where’s your mark?”
“My… what now?” I blinked at him. “If this is some creepy euphemism, I’m gonna need you to use your grown-up words.”
Silver-Eyes leaned forward from where he sat, forearms resting on his knees, head tilting in that unnerving, birdlike way. “Don’t play stupid. Where. Is. It?”
I glanced between them. “Wow. This is exactly the vibe I wanted, three strangers in a dingy hideout asking me vague, ominous questions about my body. Truly, I feel so safe.”
Bronze’s eyes narrowed, his mouth pulling tight like a trap being set. “You’re human. You should have one.”
“A birthmark?” I asked sweetly. “Because I do, actually, it’s on my right ass cheek -”
“Don’t.” His voice had that sharp, warning edge, like I was getting too close to a tripwire.
I put a hand to my chest in mock offense. “Oh, so now you don’t want details.”
“Stop stalling,” he snapped. “Every female has a mark unless -” He stopped short, his gaze flicking over me like I was suddenly more dangerous than I looked. “Unless you’re hiding it.”
I barked out a laugh, because apparently my fight-or-flight response had decided to take a vacation and leave sarcasm in charge. “Yes, exactly. I misplaced my mysterious mark while reorganizing my sock drawer. You caught me.”
Grabber’s voice cut through the room, low and even. “We’re not joking. Show us.”
That made me freeze. “Show you? Uh, hard pass. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be showing you!”
They didn’t believe me. I could feel it, the slow, simmering suspicion. Bronze’s lip curled like he’d caught me lying, and Silver-Eyes went very still, his gaze sharp and calculating.
Grabber, though… Grabber didn’t look angry. If anything, he looked thoughtful. Curious. Like I was a question he actually wanted the answer to, not just a problem to dispose of.
Bronze crossed his arms, leaning his weight on one hip. “You’re human. You should be marked.”
“Marked for what?”
The pause that followed was sharp enough to cut my skin. The three of them exchanged glances, quick, silent little flickers of communication that made me feel like I’d walked into the middle of a conversation they’d been having for years.
Finally, Silver-Eyes said, “To show a claim.”
That one word felt heavy in the air, like it was carrying a truckload of meaning I didn’t get to unpack. “Claim?” I echoed.
Grabber pushed away from the table and leaned back against it, crossing his arms as he looked at me. “It means someone has rights to you. Protection. Status.”
“Status,” I repeated, my lip curling. “Like I’m a handbag?”
“No,” he said, his tone sharper now. “Like you’re something rare enough that people will kill for the chance to keep you. Lose you, and they’ll start a war to get you back.”
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My sarcasm faltered, just a little. “…That’s dramatic.”
“Not dramatic,” Bronze said flatly. “True. There are no females without a mark. You don’t just walk around unclaimed unless you’ve got a death wish.”
“Well,” I said, adjusting Bagel’s carrier against my chest, “guess I’ve been making it work so far.”
“That’s not survival,” Silver-Eyes said. “That’s luck. And luck always runs out.”
I didn’t like the way they all seemed so certain about that. Like they’d already decided I was a ticking clock.
“Alright,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “You’ve explained the part where the creepy patriarchy puts a stamp on women. Now explain why I should care.”
Grabber’s eyes didn’t leave mine. “Because without a mark, there’s nothing to stop anyone from taking you. And if you’re taken… there’s no guarantee you’ll live with your sanity long enough to regret it.”
That was… uncomfortably blunt.
They went on, feeding me fragments but never giving me the whole story. Something about ranked power, how “claims” acted as both a shield and a warning, and some sort of council. I gathered that human women, especially the unmarked ones, were treated like living treasures. Priceless. Potential bargaining chips between powerful factions.
I tried to press them. “And supernatural women? Same rules?”
Silence. All three of them looked at me, and I got the distinct feeling I’d stepped onto a conversational landmine.
“We’re done here,” Bronze said finally.
“No, we’re not -”
“Done,” Grabber cut in, the finality in his voice leaving no room for argument.
I turned away after that, pretending to check on Bagel in her carrier. That’s when I caught their voices again, low, hushed, but not enough to blur the edges.
“She’s lying,” Bronze muttered.
“She doesn’t seem the type,” Grabber replied, too calm.
“Doesn’t matter what she ‘seems,’” Silver-Eyes said. “Nobody her age makes it unmarked unless they’re hiding something. Maybe she’s bait.”
“You think she’s that clever?” Bronze asked.
“I think we’ve underestimated the trouble she can bring,” Silver-Eyes answered.
A pause, then Grabber again: “Or the trouble she’s already in.”
I pretended not to hear, but the words stuck like burrs in my brain.
· ─ ·?· ─ · ·· · ─ ·?· ─ · ·
When they finally decided we were moving, it was abrupt, no warning, no discussion. Bronze announced it like he was calling a cab. Grabber gave me a curt, “Get your things,” as if I had anything besides Bagel and the mud still clinging to my jeans.
The trip out of the hideout was all stone steps and shadowed hallways, their boots echoing against the floor. The air outside was damp and cold, thick with the smell of wet earth. They didn’t bother to tell me where we were going, just steered me toward a waiting vehicle, a matte-black beast of metal with tires that looked like they could roll over a building.
The ride itself was a blur of dark roads and passing shapes. Grabber sat beside me, his arm resting casually along the back of the seat, though it was obvious he was watching me more than the scenery. Bronze drove. Silver-Eyes stared out the window like he was tracking ghosts in the trees.
Every so often, the quiet cracked open with a bit of banter, Bronze complaining about the suspension, Silver-Eyes pointing out that maybe if he didn’t drive like the road had personally insulted him, it wouldn’t be an issue. Grabber didn’t say much, but when the others bickered, I caught the ghost of a smirk on his face.
It was almost… normal. If you ignored the part where they were transporting me like a high-value package.
· ─ ·?· ─ · ·· · ─ ·?· ─ · ·
We crested a hill, and then I saw it.
The castle wasn’t some storybook relic, it was alive. Lights burned in tall, arched windows, spilling gold across the dark stone walls. The gate was a looming iron lattice, flanked by towers that looked like they’d been carved out of the night itself. The place had weight, presence.
Inside the gates, the world shifted. The drive wound past manicured gardens I barely glimpsed in the dark, fountains whose splashing water sounded richer than anything I’d heard in weeks. And then the main doors opened.
The entry hall hit me like stepping into another reality. Polished marble floors reflected the soft light of chandeliers, actual crystal chandeliers, not cheap glass knock-offs. The air smelled faintly of old wood, leather, and something floral I couldn’t place. Vaulted ceilings soared above, painted in faded murals that hinted at centuries of history.
I stopped dead, Bagel shifting against me as I craned my neck to take it all in. “This is where you live?”
Grabber glanced over his shoulder at me, one brow lifting in mild amusement. “You expected a cave?”
“…Honestly? Yeah.”
Bronze strode past with and muttered, “Still could put you in one.”
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