Chapter 22

I went straight to the source.

It took me a while to find him, Dion, especially since it was early in the morning. But one thing I learned from being a werewolf's daughter and it was that werewolves always ran in the mornings.

My insides were still sore as I paved my way through the woods in hopes to find him. It was a rather dull day with the sun hidden behind the heavy clouds and the fog that had collected across the grounds.

Callan had given me no answers, nothing about the mark, but I knew Dion would. He was more vulnerable, maybe even a bit timid than him.

I found his wolf. His dark brown eyes twinkled at me and I smiled before he began to shift back.

It was better to swallow my fear than let it linger over me for the rest of my life.

Father was dead and he wasn't coming back.

Ever.

"What are you doing here at this time?" He asked, breathing heavily.

I turned away from him as he wore his clothes. The vision I had seen yesterday was still vivid in my head. How could I have possibly seen it? Especially when it was Callan filling me up.

I shook my head, brushing away the thoughts while my shoulders eased. "Just taking a walk," I replied, but it wasn't the truth. I came here to find him. For different reasons. When I heard the sound of his zipper going up, I turned. He was still shirtless, with his arms bare. My gaze clicked right over the mark before running elsewhere. "If you don't mind, where did you get that mark?" I asked, hoping I'd get a better answer than what Callan had given me.

His attention diverted to his wrist and he glanced at the mark before looking at me with his brow cocked.

"I got it some time ago. You curious?"

I nodded, "Yes, Callan has the same one. Did you two get it together? Is it like a tattoo—"

"It's not a tattoo," He gave his head a shake while slipping on his shirt and buttoning it up. "It was given to us a hundred years ago. I never understood why or when it happened, but it just did. There were more, four of us and the mark came at the same time."

A hundred years.

That was a very long time for a werewolf to live. They weren't immortal beings, not like night-eaters.

"What happened then?"

Dion shrugged, closing his last few buttons, "It appeared on my wrist on the same night it appears on Callan's and the other's. We were at court during that time. By next morning, we all had scattered. I returned only to court a decade ago, only because there wasn't anyone next in line for becoming the Alpha of my pack. I had to step in and take the duties of becoming a one." He explained, sounding a bit sad.

"What happened to your family? Werewolves don't live for—"

"Yes," He gave me a nod. "They all are dead while I outlived them."

"How?"

It couldn't be possible.

A werewolf had a small life span, they were meant to die from old age, diseases, or infection. A lot of them were killed in battles and duels. The stronger ones lived, but even then, not for long.

"I suppose it was the mark. It gave me immortality and strength that no one in my pack had ever heard or seen of. But I don't want to live anymore. I've spent years and years in this world, and there's nothing more left for me. Everyone I knew is dead." He continued with sorrow lingering in the back of his voice.

I pursed my lips while registering his words. It all sounded cruel.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

He chuckle and gave his head a shake, "I've made peace with the curse." He lifted his hand, showing me the mark before rolling his sleeve back up and hiding it.

We began to walk back toward the court. It was a long way, but at least there were a few things I learned. The mark was given to them a hundred years ago. What happened that time? Callan was already an immortal, but he told me he was stronger than other night-eaters. Dion became an immortal after the mark.

Who were the other two? And what happened to them?

"What happened to the others? They were four of you, right?" I asked him.

He nodded, "Callan has been living in court since forever. There was another one we knew during that time but I'm not sure where he is now. But I believe Callan must know about his whereabouts."

I could see the court from a distance. Fog hung low, just above the large building. It was stretched wide with rooms and rooms. I still hadn't had the chance to explore it or to find the rumored secrets hidden behind the walls or the magic that had been buried here.

I was completely sure the mark of the pentacle was given by a witch, a strong one, and it wasn't Alexandria Sven. It was someone else. The men, all four of them, were used for something, a balance, a curse, a ritual—something and for as long as they remained immortal, it would remain. Therefore, their strength and immortality.

It was making a little sense.

Alexandria wanted to break the spell, and I was sure she wanted to kill them. There was some benefit behind this all. Maybe the magic she had been ripped away from.

Not everyone could practice black magic.

She couldn't.

Dion and I walked inside the court for a bit more and in this time, I learned about his pack, the Nightslit Pack. He was the Alpha of it and he was well-aware of the pack my father came from. When I remembered him, I became silent.

Until I saw Callan in one of the hallways inside the house. Blood quickly rushed up to my cheeks, and I pressed my thighs together. From the dull expression over his face, it seemed like he had just woken up.

As his eyes clicked onto mine, a throbbing rose on where he had been inside last night.

"What are you doing with her?" He asked Dion, shifting his attention to him.

I bit the inside of my cheek, praying he wouldn't tell him about all the questions and the information I had dug up from him.

"She in the woods when I found. She was quite curious about the pentacle mark, and I told her about it." Dion responding, telling everything I didn't want him to tell.

My head dashed back and forth. When I glanced at Callan again, a frown had settled over his face and his blue eyes had darkened.

"Don't say anything anymore," He stepped forward, backing me to a wall. "Her curiosity is raising many more questions. Don't you think so?" He asked me.

I shook my head, "I just—"

He placed his finger over my lips and I shut them instantly, "Don't think you're fooling anyone here. You can try and be smart as much as you want to, but you can't cross me. I know you aren't here for your family and your visits to the Queen's house tells me something else."

How did he know?

It had barely been two hours since I left Alexandria's residence.

"Did she send you here?" He asked, and as I tried to move, he grabbed my arm and cornered me. His hand went against the wall behind. "Tell me. Did she send you after me that day?" His voice rose, rage surfacing as he begin to question the small details about me.

"I don't think so, Callan. It doesn't seems like that." Dion stepped forward and interrupted him.

"You don't know what she does," He whispered, shaking his head. "She practices black magic and somehow, she hasn't been caught by anyone. And this isn't the first time she has inquired about the pentacle mark, nor I believe the last." His hand stiffened around my arm.

My back pressed against the wall, "I'm not doing anything."

"And I don't believe you," He snapped, turning back to me. "You're a witch, and I don't believe a single word that leaves a witch's mouth. Tell me what you're up to—"

"Nothing. I wouldn't do anything to harm you or anyone," I replied, truth in my words. I didn't plan to hurt anyone. My voice became thick and even more lower, "I let you fuck me, Callan. I'm not planning or strategizing with someone to bring you down or something."

"What were you doing at the Queen's house then?" He asked, bringing up the only thing I feared.

Why was everyone stalking me? First, Raphael and now him. Where did he even get his information from?

"I went to inquire about my father's family. That's all."

He lowered himself to me and whispered, "Don't put your nose where it doesn't belong, little witch."

"I won't."