"Lily, are you alright?!"
Marcus stumbled forward, panic cutting through his drunken haze. He dropped to his knees beside his wife, grabbing her trembling hands.
Her skin was warm, her pulse racing under his fingertips. She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, hair a tangled halo, lips parted as she tried to speak.
A weak smile tugged at her mouth—fragile, exhausted, almost guilty.
"It's okay," she whispered, voice barely a breath. "I'm… fine."
Marcus's chest clenched. She was with him. That was all that mattered now.
Whatever madness had just happened in this cursed house—whatever Alex had done—it was over. He would protect her, he'd keep her safe. No more of this insanity.
He turned, jaw tightening, and glared at the other man.
Alex sat at the far end of the couch, shirt clinging to his chest with sweat, posture relaxed like he owned the damn place.
His lips curled into that same insufferable, smug smile. The kind that screamed I win.
Marcus's blood boiled. "You—"
