Page 123 of Heartless Sinner

Fate line.

I followed it more closely.

I’d spent my entire life thinking fate was bullshit people used to make sense of shit they couldn’t control. Now I wanted to believe in it for one pathetic reason—I wanted to be somewhere in hers.

Finally, I found her heart line.

The one I wanted to believe somehow led to me.

Enzo handed me his knife. I’d asked to use his instead of mine since it’d gotten him a somewhat compliant Fawn.

Maybe some of that luck would rub off on me.

I traced Daphne’s heart line with the tip of the blade. Her fingers twitched when it broke skin, and I tightened my hold around her wrist before she could pull away.

She watched me the entire time.

I wanted to do the same thing, but cutting up her hand because I couldn’t stop looking at her would be fucking stupid.

She hissed between her teeth as I carefully dragged the blade along the crease. One bead of blood surfaced. Then another. Soon, red filled the lines of her palm.

I’d wanted Daphne for years.

Hated her for some of them.

Wanted revenge.

Tried fucking her out of my system.

I’d tried everything except admitting the one thing becoming harder to ignore.

None of it had fucking worked.

Now, I was standing in front of the Night Sons, carving my claim into a line that supposedly controlled her heart.

How fucking poetic.

“Electa mea,” I said.

I passed the knife back to Enzo and offered him my open palm.

Right before he cut me, I caught his wrist. “I want her to do it.”

Enzo frowned. “What?”

“I want her to cut me.”

He glared at me.

I knew what he was thinking.

This wasn’t how the ceremony worked.

The Son marked the Fawn. Not the other way around.

Giving Daphne the blade shattered the hierarchy the Sons had spent generations protecting.

Fuck tradition right now.