PROLOGUE — The Last Arrow
> There was a time when Cupid's arrows sparked love.
Now, they sow death.
> They say that when you're struck… you instantly recognize your soulmate.
But in this cursed world, that soulmate becomes your worst nightmare.
Because the bond is absolute: you'll love each other, crave each other —
until one of you kills the other.
> The bond cannot be undone. It cannot fade.
It burns. It devours.
Until only one remains.
> Some run. Others hunt.
But in the end, they all give in.
> I've seen people cry, beg, betray.
I've seen killers fall in love, and lovers become killers.
And me… I thought I could escape it.
> Until I felt the burn on my skin.
The mark.
A crimson scar, shaped like an arrow, just above my heart.
> Cupid chose me.
And somewhere out there…
he chose the other.
---
Chapter 1 – The Mark
> It started with a dull ache.
A strange pulsing, like a foreign heartbeat beneath my skin.
I thought it was stress.
But when I lifted my shirt in front of the mirror…
I saw it.
> The Mark.
> Deep red. Shaped like an arrow. Slightly burned, like a living tattoo.
Right above my heart.
> I stumbled back, throat tight, hands shaking.
I didn't want to believe it.
Not me. Not now.
I had never loved anyone.
I didn't want to love anyone.
And even less… kill.
> But there's no choice.
> When you're marked, you're bound to one person.
You don't know when you'll meet them.
But the day your eyes meet theirs…
the bond ignites.
> And you understand.
You know.
> That moment when everything aligns — the stare, the scent, the shiver in your blood.
They call it the Crossing.
One glance, and your fates are tied.
And that's when the curse truly begins.
---
> After the Mark, everything sped up.
> The dreams started.
Foggy. Bloody. Sweet. Violent.
A scent I didn't recognize. A blurry silhouette.
A crystalline laugh, followed by a muffled scream.
And that voice… whispering in my head every night:
---
Chapter 2 — The Crossing
The day I saw her, the world paused.
Not metaphorically.
It paused — like someone had pressed mute on reality.
The crowd around us faded into a blur of noise and color.
My breath caught.
My Mark burned.
And she…
She just looked at me.
Madie.
I didn't know her name yet. But I felt it in my bones.
Like it had always been written there.
Tall, lean, draped in dark clothes and colder intentions.
A sharp jaw, lips made for silence or poison.
A silver ring danced on her tongue when she spoke, later.
But that first second, she said nothing.
She just stared, like I was a problem she didn't want—but couldn't unsee.
And the pain in my chest turned electric.
The Mark pulsed once.
Twice.
And then... it flared.
Our eyes locked.
The Crossing.
Her pupils narrowed.
Mine dilated.
> "Shit," she murmured.
"Not you."
She turned.
Walked away like nothing happened.
Like I hadn't just been cursed to love someone who already hated me.
And still…
I followed.
---
> Love. Death. It starts the same way.
---
In the days that followed, she ignored me like it was her job.
But I felt it every time she was near.
The air shifted. My pulse betrayed me.
She was in my veins now, and it wasn't fair.
One afternoon, I caught up with her behind the school.
Alone. Smoking. Hoodie down. Head tilted like a warning sign.
> "Why do you keep running?" I asked.
She looked up.
Eyes glinting with something between amusement and cruelty.
> "I'm not running," she said.
"I'm making it easier for you to forget."
> "I can't."
Her gaze softened — just barely.
Then sharpened again.
> "That's the problem with your kind," she said.
"You think love means destiny."
> "Doesn't it?"
She smirked.
> "Love is a trap.
And the Mark is the bait."
She flicked the cigarette, stepped closer.
Her breath smelled like mint and malice.
> "And you, little soul," she whispered,
"are already caught."