Chapter Nine

Bella POV

The sting on my wrist made me jolt awake. I hissed and clutched my arm as fire pulsed beneath my skin. The moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating the faint glow of a crescent mark that seared into my flesh.

"What the hell?" I exclaimed in shock, throwing off the sheets. My heart hammered as I stumbled into the bathroom, flipping on the light switch.

The mark shone in the mirror, just under my skin like it’s always been there. I grabbed a towel, ran it under cold water, and scrubbed as hard as I could. But it doesn’t fade.

I began to panic and I could feel my throat tightened. Nothing in the moment made any sense. 

Then, I saw a woman with silver hair. Her lips barely moved, but her voice echoed in my head.

“Seven nights until the Blood Moon. Choose him… or lose everything.”

I gripped the sink, gasping for breath as the vision faded away. My pulse thrummed wildly, drowning out the stillness of the night.

Choose who? And why the hell does it feel like I already know the answer? Oh moon goddess. This was so cryptic and I hoped for a better understanding of everything. 

A muffled sound pulled me back. A growl. It was Sage. I shove the bathroom door open and rushed into the living room. He was there on the couch, bare, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, his muscles tense like he was fighting something in his sleep. 

His brows furrowed tightly and lips curled slightly, exposing his canines.

"Sage," I whispered as I knelt beside him. He twitched, face twisted with whatever nightmare had him trapped.

Something pulled me, something deep and unseen. My fingers hovered over his arm before I gave in to the urge and touched him.

A jolt slammed through me. A vision crashed into my mind. Sage and I, standing under a full moon. The rejection night. But wrong.

He was not cold, not distant. His voice wasn't like a blade tearing through me. Instead, he cupped my face and with desperate eyes he spoke. “Don’t do this,” he breathes. “Please.”

My heart clenched at his words. This never happened, he didn’t beg, he didn’t fight for me. But here, in this twisted version of that night, he does.

“I have to,” I whispered back.

Pain filled his eyes. “Then you’ll kill us both.”

A violent snap ripped through the vision, dragging me back to reality. I collapsed, gasping, my body trembled from the force of it. Sage jerked awake, eyes wild, chest heaving.

"What? what just happened?" he asked with wide eyes, still staring at me.

I could barely catch my breath before I responded. "I….I don't know." I stuttered. "I touched you, and I saw….” I shake my head. “It was the rejection night, but different.”

His gaze darkens. "I saw it too."

My stomach dropped. "How?"

His jaw tightened. He ran a hand through his hair, fingers shaking. "I don’t know. But I felt everything. The pain, the pull… the choice."

I swallowed hard, my wrist burned hotter. "Sage, something’s happening to me." I flip my arm, showing him the mark. "Do you know what this is?"

His eyes widened. "Shit."

"That’s not reassuring," I snapped.

He exhaled sharply, grabbing my wrist, his thumb brushed the crescent shape. "It means fate isn’t done with us."

I froz3. "What?"

He lifted his gaze to meet mine, there was something unreadable in his expression. "You don’t get a second mark unless the bond is fighting rejection. And if you’re seeing visions with me…" He trailed off.

"What? Sage, tell me."

He hesitated a little bit, "It means you have a choice. One last chance before the Blood Moon decides for you."

A shiver ran through me. Choose him… or lose everything.

The words kept echoing in my head.

"What if I don’t choose?" I whispered.

Sage didn’t answer right away. "Then we both lose."

And for the first time since rejecting Sage, I wonder if I made the wrong one. After talking, we both decided to go back to sleep. 

***

Sage POV

The burn on my wrist pulled me from sleep. A sharp gasp escaped me as I felt a burning sensation beneath my skin. I clutched my wrist, my breath was ragged, my pulse was also uneven. 

Bella stumbles back first, pressing against the wall. "Sage..."

I reach out, "Bella."

She shook her head violently and turned, vanishing into her room. The door slammed shut. I just stayed numb, staring at her.

I should follow her. Ask what she saw, if she saw what I did. But doubt roots me to the spot. The vision still clung to my mind, it was fragmented and wrong. 

It was a memory twisted into something unfamiliar, something scary. And then, it all faded into something peaceful. 

Morning light streamed through the blinds. I could hear the soft murmur of Bella’s voice from the other room. I stepped closer, listening.

"Laura, I swear, it just appeared," Bella said, "I woke up, and it was there. A crescent. It…. it burned."

A long pause. Then, Laura’s voice followed. "Bella, you need to listen to me. This isn’t just a mark. Do you remember the old moon priestess in Crescent Creek?"

"What? No, Laura, what are you talking about?"

"She used to tell a story about the crescent," Laura said, "Those who bear the mark are destined for one of two things: to destroy... or to protect the packs."

Bella let out a shaky breath. "That’s ridiculous. I…I'm not…"

"It’s rare. Almost unheard of." Laura’s words spilled out fast, insistent. "But the Blood Moon is in seven nights, Bella. You can’t let it rise without preparing."

Bella pressed a hand on her forehead. "Preparing for what?"

"For whatever fate chooses."

The silence that followed was deafening.

I stepped back, my stomach twisted. The crescent mark. The vision. The fire under my skin. None of this was a coincidence. And yet, Bella had not come to me. She had not asked if I saw what she did.

The rejection night. It was always something we never spoke about. And last night, the vision had dragged us back there, but different. Worse. As if something had changed the past itself. I don’t know what it all meant, but I felt her fear like it was my own.

I should walk away. Pretend I didn’t hear anything. But my feet remained stuck, waiting for her to say something. Anything.

There was a soft rustle of fabric. I glanced back through the open door and saw her roll up her sleeve, stepping toward the mirror.

Her fingers traced the mark, her reflection was tense, uncertain. The crescent pulsed faintly under her skin, like it’s alive.

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“What the hell am I becoming?” she whispered to herself.