Hired To Protect Him, Falling For Him

Chapter 6: He Is Alive

The photo on my phone was grainy. Taken through a rain-stained window in Boston. The glass blurred the edges, but it did not blur him.

A man in a black hoodie. His face half turned. Jaw sharp. Head down, like he knew the camera was there.

It was Marcus.

My little brother. Dead for three years.

I stared at it. I waited for my hand to shake. It didn't. It never does when it matters.

My hand didn't shake. Nova's did — just for a second where she held the phone. A small tremor in her fingers. She tried to hide it.

"He saw you in that dress. He took your picture," she said. Her voice was quiet. Controlled. But I heard the anger underneath.

Her dress was on the floor of the back room. Lena's old room. Folded once, carelessly. Like she had taken it off fast to change, to grab her knife.

"He knows this building," I said. My voice sounded flat to my own ears. "He knows every exit. He knows you. He knows where you sleep."

That was the part that made my chest go tight. Not that he was alive. But that he had watched her.

Nova stepped in front of me. Knife already on her thigh. She always does that when she is scared but wants to look brave. Hand on the handle. Weight forward.

We moved through the alley behind Tremont. Boston smelled like wet concrete and trash. Not Santorini. Never Santorini. In Santorini, the air was salt and sun. Here it was, cold damp that got into your bones.

The alley was narrow. Too quiet. My boots echoed. Hers didn't. She knows how to walk silent.

"You buried two caskets, Elias," my father told me that night. Three years ago. His hand on my shoulder, heavy. "Burned beyond recognition. It was them. You need to let them rest."

I buried my brother and my sister Lena. My soft, dead little sister who never hurt anyone. Two small caskets. Too small. The church smelled like flowers and ash.

I watched them lower both. I stood there until the dirt covered them.

Now, one casket was empty. The thought hit me hard. All this time, I was mourning air.

A shadow moved on the roof. Just a flicker. A shift against the night sky.

I stopped. Nova stopped with me instantly.

I laughed. Quietly. Without humour. It scraped my throat.

"Good," I whispered to the darkness, my voice carrying in the alley. "Good, Marcus. You finally stopped hiding. You finally got brave."

I said it loud enough for him to hear. I wanted him to hear.

I stepped forward to go hunt him, and she grabbed my arm. Hard. Nails in.

"No," Nova said, her voice low, dangerous. "You don't go alone. Not for him. Not for a ghost."

She pushed me back against the brick. Her body was a shield. Her hand was on my chest, holding me there. Her eyes on mine, then flicking to the roof.

Her breath was fast. Mine was slow.

"If he is alive, he has been watching us," she said. The words fell quick. "He watched you grieve. He watched you bury empty boxes. He watched you bring me here. He knows everything. Think, Elias."

She was right. If he was alive this long, he chose to watch. He chose to let us bury Lena alone.

The shadow jumped down. Landing soft. It's too soft to be a ghost. Knees bent. Silent.

Marcus stood ten feet away. Same scar on his chin from when Lena pushed him as kids. Same eyes. Different cold in them.

The rain had stopped, but water dripped from the fire escape above him.

"You finally stopped hiding," I said. My voice was dead. Flat. "You let our sister burn."

I wanted to scream it. I didn't. I kept it low.

He smiled. It wasn't my brother's smile anymore. It was thinner. Sharper.

"You don't know anything about that night, brother," he said. His voice was the same, just rougher. "You don't know what you buried."

The words hung in the cold air.

Nova moved. Fast. She was between us before I could breathe, knife out, pointing at his throat. Her arm straight. No shake now.

"Don't move," she told him. "Don't you f*****g move. I will cut you."

She meant it. She would.

Marcus looked at her, then at me. At my hand on her waist, holding her back. Holding her from killing him right there.

He looked at the way I held her. Possessive. Protective.

"So you found a replacement?" he said. A small laugh. Jealous. Bitter.

That was when I snapped. My whole body went tight. Heat up my neck.

He thought she was a replacement for them. For Lena. For him. He thought he could still judge.

Nova felt it. She pressed harder against me, keeping me caged. Her back against my chest. Her hand finding mine on her waist and squeezing.

"Let him watch," she whispered to me, but loud enough for Marcus to hear. Clear. Cold. "Let him watch the family he threw away."