The moment we turned onto our street, something inside me tightened.
My steps slowed instinctively, and Marcus noticed immediately.
His hand tightened around mine as his gaze lifted toward our flat above the row of shops. The light was on. Warm yellow spilled through the curtains of the second-floor window, too bright against the darkening evening sky.
A cold feeling settled low in my stomach.
"Philippa is not here," Marcus said slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied the window. It wasn't quite a question. More like the confirmation of the same unease creeping through me.
"No," I answered, my throat suddenly dry. "She went to her mother's for the weekend."
Silence settled between us.
Marcus's posture shifted beside me almost imperceptibly, his entire body went still in the way I had come to recognize meant danger. The easy warmth from earlier vanished instantly, replaced by something sharper.
His gaze swept over the building, calculating the exits, the entrances, shadows.
"Marcus—"
He stepped slightly in front of me before I could finish, placing himself between me and the entrance without even seeming to think about it.
"Stay behind me," he said quietly.
I swallowed hard, forcing my shaking hands to stay steady as I slipped my phone from my pocket. I kept it hidden inside my coat sleeve afterward, my thumb hovering near the emergency call screen just in case.
Marcus's attention remained fixed on the building ahead as he guided me toward the entrance, his body positioned slightly in front of mine like a shield. The moment we stepped inside, the warmth from the hallway hit me, carrying the familiar scent of old wood and someone's dinner drifting from another flat upstairs.
It was usually comforting. But tonight, it only made the silence feel worse.
Our footsteps echoed softly as we climbed the narrow staircase.
I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears with every step, loud and uneven. Marcus moved without sound despite his size, one hand slightly out beside him as though ready to push me back at any moment.
The closer we got, the tighter my chest became.
Then we stopped.
My breath caught instantly.
The front door to our flat was slightly open, enough for the warm light of our flat to spill through the narrow gap.
Marcus's entire body went rigid beside me.
Slowly, deliberately, he moved in front of me fully now, one arm barring across my waist before I could take another step.
I stared at the door, my pulse roaring.
I knew we had locked it before we left.
My lips parted, ready to tell Marcus we should leave, that we could stay somewhere else for the night. Call the police, do anything but this.
But he was already moving.
"Marcus—"
He stepped through the doorway without hesitation.
I hurried after him, my grip tightening around my phone so hard my fingers began to ache.
The moment Marcus entered the living room, he stopped abruptly.
I nearly walked straight into his back.
"Stay behind me," he said quietly, his voice turning sharp in a way that instantly raised every hair on my arms.
My stomach dropped.
Carefully, I looked past his shoulder.
Garrick sat sprawled across our sofa like he belonged there, lazily turning one of our kitchen knives between his fingers. He was dressed simply in a dark sweater and jeans, his hair cut shorter than before, though the beard remained. It made him look rougher somehow. Less polished.
Like something dangerous trying very hard to appear calm.
His eyes lifted toward me.
"Elena," he said softly.
The expression on his face softened at the sight of me, but it felt wrong. Hollow. Whatever warmth sat in Marcus's gaze when he looked at me...this was not the same.
"You're alive," Garrick continued, almost sound relieved. "I knew you would survive."
A cold feeling crawled beneath my skin.
"You shot me," I said flatly.
"Technically," he replied with a small shrug as he rose slowly from the sofa, still toying with the knife between his fingers, "I was aiming for him."
His gaze flicked briefly toward Marcus before returning to me.
"But you stepped in the way." His voice softened again, almost coaxing now. "I would never have harmed you intentionally, Elena. You know that. Regardless of what happened between us, I still bear some semblance of love for you."
Marcus shifted slightly in front of me. Though not enough to block my view entirely, but just enough to remind Garrick exactly where he stood.
"Bullshit!" I snapped.
The word cracked through the room sharper than I intended.
Something dark flashed across Garrick's face, brief but unmistakable. Still, I pushed forward before he could speak.
"If you ever loved me at all," I said, my voice shaking now with anger more than fear, "you would've left us alone."
A quiet laugh escaped him.
"Us," he repeated mockingly, the corner of his mouth curling upward. "Interesting."
He shook his head slowly, almost amused with himself.
"You know," he continued, his gaze dragging over me in a way that made my skin crawl, "you were never this loyal when you were with me."
My stomach twisted.
"It's almost unfair, really," he said lightly. "Seeing this side of you now. The devotion. The way you look at him like he hung the bloody moon." His smile widened faintly, though nothing about it reached his eyes. "I spent years trying to earn that from you."
I stiffened instinctively.
Beside me, Marcus went impossibly still.
"Leave, Garrick," I said, my hand tightening around Marcus's arm while the other remained curled around my phone inside my coat pocket. "Or I'll call the police and have you arrested for trespassing."
"Do it," he challenged easily.
He crossed his arms over his chest and stepped around the sofa, closing the distance between us with an arrogance that made my stomach churn.
The flat that Pippa and I shared wasn't large, by any means. So he was already standing too dangerously close.
"I'd like to see you try," he said, his gaze flickering toward the way Marcus had positioned himself right in front of me. Then his mouth twisted into something ugly.
"Tell me," he drawled, tipping his chin toward Marcus, "does her pussy still cling to your dick the way it used to cling to mine?"
The words barely had time to settle before I felt Marcus's arm disappearing from my front.
One second he was right in front of me, the next, I saw the way his fist slammed into Garrick's face with enough force to send him tumbling sideways into the coffee table.
The crack of impact echoed violently through the flat.
I rushed to shut the door behind us immediately, panic flaring through me at the thought of the neighbors hearing. Or worse, our landlord downstairs.
By the time I turned back around, Garrick had already lunged at Marcus.
The two men crashing into the living room table hard enough to shove it sideways across the floor. Garrick swung first, but Marcus caught his arm and drove him backward with brutal force, slamming him against the wall.
"You will not speak to her in such a manner again," Marcus snarled, his voice low and deadly. "No man draws breath and speaks of her so filthily before me."
Garrick laughed despite the blood now running from the corner of his mouth. "There he is," he spat. "The mighty Roman praetor."
My eyes darted toward the knife just as it skidded across the floor.
I hurried forward and kicked it hard beneath the kitchen counter before either of them realized. The metal scraping loudly against the wooden floors.
"Elena, stay back!" Marcus barked without looking at me.
Garrick managed to shove Marcus off him then, tackling him around the waist.
They hit the floor hard, wrestling violently across the carpet, knocking over one of our chairs in the process. The sheer force of them was terrifying. Marcus, stronger and more disciplined, but Garrick fought like a man with absolutely nothing left to lose.
Marcus eventually overpowered him, grabbing him by the collar before throwing him hard agains the sofa.
"We have made an agreement," Marcus said sharply, breathing hard now. "Your family swore this feud would end."
Garrick wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand before laughing again, harsher this time.
"My family made that deal," he corrected, those eyes darkening as they locked onto Marcus. "Not me."
The room went still.
Slowly, Garrick straightened.
"This was never about your fucking Rome," he said quietly. "Never about my fucking ancestors. This—" His gaze flickered toward me before returning to Marcus. "—this is fucking personal."