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Summary
Rumi recoiled, her trembling arms dragging up into a fragile gesture of surrender. And then she saw it, the glow. The dark sigils blazing across the backs of her own hands, pulsing like molten veins. Zoey’s blood streaked her skin in broken lines, smearing across those marks like a cruel reminder of what she had done. She could feel the patterns burning beneath the fabric of her hoodie, heat crawling up her arms, snaking along her throat, spreading everywhere until it felt like her whole body was branded from the inside out.
Rumi’s throat worked, but no words came. Or maybe they didn’t matter anymore. Because what Mira saw, what was written across her skin, was enough.
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or
Zoey and Mira learn Rumi’s secret at the worst possible time — and in the worst possible way. Guilt consumes her as cracks begin to form in her relationships with everyone she loves.