“Are you okay?” I murmured. She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned my wrist over in her grasp, running her fingers along the edges of the ink as if she could trace the weight of fate itself. Then, finally, she whispered, “You are mine.” A sharp ache bloomed in my chest. I tilted her chin up, forcing her to see me, to see the truth in my eyes. “And you are mine.”
