There, on a raised stage stood Styx, Harper and Blade along with the other Enforcers, Silver, Ivar and Kohn. Standing at attention in front of the stage stood two rows made up of five captains and ten lieutenants. My captains. My lieutenants. Behind them, the legion. Men, women and children. Waiting. Low murmurs of talking and laughter stopped but we had both heard the space filled with happy noise.

Standing center stage was our elder, Scribe. The title handed down for generations to the male or female who kept the legions records, served as a personal advisor to Styx and did all of the tattoo work for our people.

“Come, mate. It is time to meet your new family.” I led my mate up onto the stage and walked to stand before Scribe. Abby looked around, clearly confused until I removed my shirt and bared my chest. “Scribe, this is my mate, Abigail. I would have her name mark my flesh.”

Abby gasped. “But I thought you only added members of your legion. I’m not. I mean, I want to be, but I’m not yet. Am I?”

Styx walked forward and removed his shirt as well. “Scribe, please add my new sister, Abigail, to the names of those I care for and protect. I declare Abigail one of us, mate to Cormac, my sister.”

The people behind the captains and lieutenants cheered and shouted encouragement as Scribe found my name on Styx’s body and added Abigail’s next to it in slightly smaller letters. My brother was covered in ink, thousands of names. He didn’t have a lot of room left. I approved, glad the legion was so welcoming to her, but the letters were too small.

Like my brother, my body was covered with names. Styx and our parents who had taken me in when I had no one. Harper and Blade, my brother’s chosen family. The names of the other enforcers and those of the captains and lieutenants who served under me, part of the system of trade and protection that made our legion strong.

One name was missing, had always been missing. Hers.

Abby was wiping away tears when Styx stood. He walked to her and kissed her on the forehead.

“Welcome, sister. You are one of us now.”

“Thank you.”

Harper stepped forward to hug my mate as Scribe turned to me with a question in his eyes.

Grinning, I placed my entire palm flat over the bare skin just above my heart. I’d left that place—the traditional skin saved for a mate’s name—blank out of pure, stupid hope.

Scribe lifted the hand in which he held the marking device but I grabbed his wrist before he could begin.