CHAPTER TWO
988 Words
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*CHAPTER TWO*
*4 YEARS AGO | LONDON | 03:22 AM*
The safehouse smelled like iron and rain.
Lila Rose Vex was 19 years old and bleeding out on a bathroom floor.
The knife was still in her side.
She’d pulled it out. Stupid.
Marcus had told her never to pull it out.
But panic does stupid things.
"Marcus?"
Her voice was small. Too small.
He was across the room in two steps.
On his knees. Hands already tearing her shirt open.
"Don’t talk. Don’t move. Lila, look at me."
She did.
His face was wrecked.
Not the cold bodyguard face. Not the professional face.
This was something else. This was fear.
"I’m sorry," she whispered. "I just wanted to help you."
"You followed me."
It wasn’t a question.
His hands were steady as he pressed a towel to her ribs. Too much blood.
"God, Lila. You stupid, brave, stupid girl."
"I heard them," she said. "I heard them say your name. I thought—"
She coughed. Tasted copper.
"I thought if I warned you—"
"You almost died."
His voice broke on the last word.
He grabbed his phone. Dialed. "I need a medic. Now. Safehouse 7. Gunshot and stab wound. Female, 19."
He hung up.
Pressed harder on the wound.
Lila whimpered.
"Hey. Hey." His other hand came up to her face. Thumb brushing blood off her cheek.
"Stay with me. You hear me? Stay with me."
"Why are you scared?" she asked. It hurt to talk.
"You’re never scared."
Marcus closed his eyes for one second.
When he opened them, they were glassy.
"Because the last person I let get this close died," he said.
"Because I told myself I’d never care again. And then you—"
He cut himself off.
"Then I what?"
"Then you looked at me like I was worth something."
The words hit her harder than the knife.
Lila reached up with a shaking hand and caught his wrist.
"Don’t leave me."
"I’m not going anywhere."
But she could hear it in his voice.
The lie.
The medic arrived in 7 minutes.
They pumped her full of drugs. Stitched her up.
Told her she was lucky. Two inches to the left and she’d be dead.
Marcus didn’t leave her side.
Not when they moved her to the bed.
Not when she slept for 14 hours.
Not when she woke up screaming from the nightmare.
He was there.
Every time.
With water. With painkillers. With that look on his face like he was memorizing her.
On day three, she asked him.
"Why are you still here?"
"Because I’m your bodyguard."
"Bullshit."
She sat up. Wincing. "You quit three months ago. You told my father you were done."
Marcus was by the window. Staring out at London.
"You’re Vex’s daughter," he said. "He’s getting worse. The board’s talking. I stayed because—"
"Because why?"
"Because you’re not him."
He turned. "Because you’re 19 and you think you can save the world and it pisses me off how much I believe you."
Lila stared at him.
"So stay."
"I can’t."
"Why not?"
"Because I care."
The word fell between them like a gunshot.
For a long time, neither of them spoke.
The rain hit the windows.
London glittered, unaware.
Finally Marcus crossed the room.
Sat on the edge of her bed. Careful. Like she might break.
"I’m leaving tonight," he said.
Lila’s heart dropped.
"No."
"Yes."
He took her hand. His was calloused. Warm.
"If I stay, they’ll use you. They’ll hurt you to get to me. And I can’t—Lila, I can’t watch that happen."
"Then let me come with you."
"You’re 19. You have a life here. A company. A brother who needs you."
His thumb traced her knuckles.
"You deserve better than me."
"I don’t want better."
Tears were burning her eyes and she hated it. "I want you."
Marcus flinched.
"Don’t."
"Why not?"
" Because I’ve killed people. Because the second I let myself want you back, I become the weakest thing in your life."
He stood. "And I won’t do that to you."
He started packing.
Duffel bag. Gun. Passport.
No looking at her.
Lila got out of bed.
Pain shot through her side but she didn’t care.
"Marcus."
He didn’t turn around.
"If you walk out that door," she said, her voice shaking,
"don’t come back. Not for me. Not for money. Not for anything."
He stopped.
Back still to her.
Shoulders tight.
"Take care of yourself, kid," he said quietly.
The door opened.
Closed.
Lila stood there for a long time.
Listening to his footsteps fade.
Listening to his car start.
Listening to the sound of her heart breaking.
She didn’t cry.
Not until she was alone.
Not until she realized he’d left the knife on her nightstand.
The one he taught her how to use.
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*PRESENT | ZURICH | 47:08:00*
Lila woke with a gasp.
Hand flying to her side.
No blood. No knife.
Just the scar. Old and white and aching.
Marcus was in the chair across the room.
Gun on his lap. Watching her.
"You were dreaming, What was it about??," he asked
,"Why do you care??" she snapped.
He didn’t answer.
Just poured her water. Set it down.
Professional only.
But his eyes were the same as they were four years ago.
Scared.
Like he was still afraid of losing her.
Lila took the water.
Her hand brushed his.
Neither of them pulled away.
"Why did you come back?" she asked. Again.
Marcus looked at the floor.
"Because I heard your name," he said.
"And I realized I never stopped looking for it."
The confession hung in the air.
Heavy. Ugly. True.
Lila set the water down.
Stood.
Walked to the window.
Outside, Zurich was dark.
Inside, the timer ticked.
*47:05:11*
"Professional only," she said.
"Of course," Marcus replied.
But neither of them believed it anymore.
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