You're not supposed to have two, Parker's told dozens of times; soulmarks are rare enough, but two? It makes her even more of an outsider than she already is.

She tells herself that she doesn't care, that it doesn't really matter, but on quiet nights when her brain won't stop, she touches the tiny marks on her rib—the heart and the guitar pick, both with a keyhole in the center—and wonders if they mean she's more broken than she thinks.