Chapter 72
“Wait, you said that you marked her?” Deacon looked at Warlord with furrowed brows, his posture shifting from casual Alpha to focused investigator.
“Yes. Multiple times,” Warlord replied.
“And none of them are there now?” Deacon asked, his gaze darting between the two of them.
Warlord and Arden both shook their heads in a synchronized, somber movement.
Deacon blinked hard, his mind stuttering over the words he’d just heard. He drew in a slow breath, trying to steady the rapid spin of his thoughts. His internal catalog of shifter lore and pack history flipped wildly, searching for anything, any precedent, any rumor, any half‑forgotten myth that could explain this. But nothing came to mind.
In their world, a mark wasn’t casual. It was a claim, and it was physical, spiritual,
