This wasn’t supposed to happen. She was supposed to be my sweetheart. I was going to protect her and take care of her. It was already too late. She was marked. I trembled as I knelt beside her, and tears streamed down my cheeks. John collapsed on top of her, and tears also ran down his face. He cried for her. I cried for myself. Because for the first time in my life, I didn’t just hate what I was—I loathed it. I didn’t want to be a Revered. I didn’t want to be the person who was sheltered and protected. I wanted to protect her. I wanted to be her shield and her sword.
