The note sat on the table between us, the red words still burned into my mind. You were never supposed to exist.
I hadn’t slept. The moon had drifted low, the silver light spilling through the window and turning the ink into something darker, deeper, almost alive. The threads along my wrist were faintly glowing, pulsing in quiet warning.
Talon stood at the other end of the table, jaw tight, eyes locked on the note like it was something he wanted to destroy. He hadn’t said much since last night, only that we needed to check if it carried a scent.
Now, with the dawn creeping through the curtains, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small vial of clear liquid and a cloth. “Let me try something.” He said quietly.
I watched as he dampened the cloth and pressed it gently against the
