Marcus's POV
The cheap fluorescent light in the Queens motel bathroom flickered, casting harsh shadows across the cracked tiles. Outside, rain hit the small window in a steady rhythm.
I stood in front of the mirror, splashing cold water over my face. Every instinct I had learned over seven years of working under Lucien Thorne was warning me. We were running out of time. Lucien wasn't the kind of man who let betrayal go unpunished, and my burner phone had been silent for hours—a sign that my main lines had already been tapped.
I opened the door and walked back into the small room.
Sarah was curled up on the edge of the worn bed, wrapped in a faded floral blanket. She looked so weak, her skin pale and dark circles under her eyes from nausea and exhaustion. Yet her eyes were wide open, fo
