Marked by Creed

Chapter Seventy-Six: The Ghost in the Mirror

-----Luca Vale’s POV-----

He was still alive.

Barely.

Not because Axton couldn’t kill him—but because the bastard wanted him to breathe a little longer.

The gun was gone now. Holstered. The blade hadn’t moved. Axton just stood there, seething in silence, his eyes never leaving Luca’s face.

Luca licked blood from his lip and smiled.

“Well, you’ve certainly gotten better at restraint.”

Axton didn’t reply.

Of course not.

He was saving it. Holding it in.

Always so controlled.

But Luca knew that look. He’d seen it before—in a dirt-stained alley in Jakarta, in the jungle heat of Laos, under a burned-out star in Istanbul. He’d seen it when Axton was twenty-four and not yet human.

“You remember the orphanage?” Luca said casually, shifting his weight just enough to feign ease.

Helen whimpered behind him. She was still strapped to the table. Still trembling. Her blouse hung in tatters, her cheeks streaked with tears. She wouldn’t look at either of them now.

Interesting.

“Thought so,” Luca continued. “That was the first time I saw you break. You didn’t even blink when they begged. You just kept carving.”

Axton stepped forward.

Helen flinched.

Luca noticed.

And savored it.

“I never blamed you, you know,” he said. “We were the same back then. Raised to kill. Built to destroy. You were the scalpel, and I was the surgeon. But you—” he laughed, low and cold, “—you always thought you could have more.”

Axton’s jaw flexed.

“You left the field,” Luca hissed. “You left me. Left the work. And for what? A broken girl and her brats? You think they can fix you? Fill in the cracks?”

Helen’s head snapped up.

A broken girl.

Her eyes landed on Axton.

And she saw it.

Something shift.

He didn’t defend her.

Didn’t deny anything.

He just stared at Luca like the man was already dead.

“You watched her for years,” Luca said, circling now, pacing like a predator in a cage. “Followed her home. Memorized her routes. You didn’t just protect her, Axton—you waited. Let her stay with that piece of s**t. Watched while Jason hurt her.”

Helen inhaled sharply.

“What she doesn’t know,” Luca continued, eyes gleaming, “is that you had your hand in their breakup, didn’t you? Whispered things. Stirred the pot. Created chaos until Jason snapped worse than usual. You didn’t save her. You set the stage.”

Helen’s world cracked.

Axton’s silence screamed the truth.

Luca kept pressing.

“And Jason? Sure, he was scum. But he was hers. And you murdered him in cold blood. Took her like a trophy. Played hero with blood on your hands.”

Helen was crying again.

But not just from fear.

Now it was confusion.

Doubt.

Luca grinned.

“She doesn’t know who you are,” he whispered. “Not really. And the best part? Neither do you.”

That did it.

Axton moved.

He was across the room in a blink, his forearm pressed into Luca’s throat, pinning him to the cold cement wall with inhuman force.

“I know exactly who I am,” Axton growled.

Luca gasped.

Axton leaned in.

“I’m the man who knows your every weakness. Who’s counted your kills. Who remembers what you did in Romania. Who kept every photo from the Black Chapel files when they tried to erase you.”

He pushed harder.

“And I’m the man who’s about to make you disappear the right way.”

Footsteps.

Rourke.

Morgan.

Price.

They stepped in behind Axton like the Four Horsemen.

Helen looked up, startled.

Morgan’s eyes found hers. The woman nodded once. Calm. Steady.

“Boss,” Rourke said, voice low.

Axton exhaled slowly.

Then looked at Helen.

She couldn’t speak.

Could barely breathe.

He turned back to Luca.

And smiled for the first time in hours.

A slow, dangerous, death-kissed smile.

“You think I stalked her?” he said, voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “You think I killed Jason to take what wasn’t mine?”

He stepped back.

Wiped blood from his knuckles.

“I stalked her because she was light in a world that wanted me blind. And I let Jason stay in the picture long enough to make her walk away. And when she did? I killed him so she wouldn’t have to run anymore.”

Luca coughed.

Axton tilted his head.

“She isn’t my prize. She’s my redemption.”

He turned to his crew.

“Take him.”

Rourke and Price moved as one, grabbing Luca by the arms.

He fought, growled, but it didn’t matter.

They had him.

And as they dragged him away, Axton moved to Helen.

Kneeling.

Soft.

Silent.

He didn’t speak as he unstrapped her.

Didn’t touch her skin until she looked at him.

And when she did…

She didn’t know whether to cry, kiss him, or run.

Because she didn’t know if the monster Luca described was real.

Or standing right in front of her.