Reborn Before His Ruins

Chapter 4

Marlowe's POV

My pulse hadn't slowed by the time I hit the parking lot, and it wasn't from the smoke or the collapsing ceiling. It was him, the sound of my own name in his mouth, careful, curious, entirely too gentle for a man I'd watched drive a sword through my chest in another life. I hated how much I'd wanted him to say it again.

"You look at me like I'm already dead," he'd said, and I still didn't have an answer for him. That kind of silence had a way of following a person home. I should have killed him. The thought followed me all the way home. It sat beside me in the car, followed me through the front door, and waited while I dropped my keys on the table. I should have killed Dorian Wren when I saw him. It would have been easy. I wasn't stupid enough to think killing a powerful twenty-eight-year-old man in the middle of a hotel lobby would be simple. But I could have found a way. Poison, an accident or a bullet. Something. Anything. Instead, I stood there staring at him like an i***t. At his smile. His clean hands. The way he had stepped back when I told him he was too close. I threw my bag onto the sofa.

"He's still him."

My voice sounded ridiculous in the empty room.

"He'll become the Demon King."

That was enough. It had to be. I opened my notebook and stared at his name. LUCIEN BLACKTHORNE. I drew a thick line through it. Then another.

"I should have killed him."

My phone rang. Junie. I answered. "Hello?"

"Where are you?"

"Home."

"You sound weird."

"I always sound weird."

"No, this is different."

I closed my eyes.

"I'm fine."

"You're lying."

"I'm preparing for the apocalypse. I'm allowed to be stressed."

There was silence. Then she said, "You're coming to dinner, right?" I smiled despite myself.

"Yes."

"Good. Mum made too much food."

"She always makes too much food."

"I know. That's why I asked."

I laughed softly. For a few minutes, everything felt normal. Then a siren screamed outside. My smile disappeared. Another followed. Then another. I went to the window. A column of smoke was rising from the direction of Blackwater District. My stomach dropped. No. I grabbed my jacket.

"Marlowe?" Junie said.

"I have to go."

"Go where?"

I hung up. The smoke was too thick, too dark. I knew that pattern. I had seen it before. Not during the apocalypse. Before it. The same warning signs I'd missed the first time. I ran downstairs. By the time I reached Blackwater, traffic had completely stopped. People were pouring out of shops. Cars were abandoned in the middle of the road. A bus had crashed into a traffic light. Someone was screaming. I shoved my way through the crowd.

“Move!"

A man grabbed my arm.

"Miss, stay back!"

"Get your hand off me."

"There's something wrong with the air!"

I looked toward the intersection. Black smoke rolled between the buildings. Not fire. Something else. My pulse jumped. In my first life, this was how it started. The first signs were always dismissed. A gas leak. A chemical spill. A strange infection. Then people started collapsing. Then they stopped acting like people. A woman fell to her knees. I rushed toward her.

"Don't touch her!"

A voice cut through the chaos. I ignored it. I crouched beside the woman. Her pupils were dilated. Her breathing was shallow.

"Get her away from the smoke."

Someone shouted, "The hospital is that way!"

"No!" I snapped. "Don't take her there."

The man staring at me frowned.

“Why?"

"Because the ventilation system will pull the contaminated air inside."

He stared.

"How do you know that?"

"I just do."

I grabbed the woman's arm.

"We need to move. Now."

Another explosion rocked the street. People screamed. Glass rained from a nearby building. I covered my head. Then someone grabbed my waist and pulled me backward. A second later, a metal sign crashed exactly where I had been standing. I froze. A familiar voice spoke beside my ear. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?" My entire body went rigid. Dorian. I turned. He was there, no suit this time. Dark trousers, a white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looked completely out of place in the chaos. Yet he was calm.

"You," I whispered.

His gaze swept over me.

"You again."

"Unfortunately."

His mouth twitched.

"This seems to be becoming a habit."

Another scream came from across the street. Dorian looked toward it. A man was trapped inside a damaged vehicle. Without hesitation, Dorian ran. I followed.

“Wait!”

He ignored me. The windshield was shattered. The driver was bleeding heavily. Dorian grabbed the driver's door and pulled. It didn't move. He tried again.

"Move back."

“What?"

"Marlowe."

I stepped away. Dorian braced one foot against the car and pulled with both hands. The metal groaned. The door tore open. The injured man stared at him.

"Can you stand?"

"I think so."

Dorian reached inside.

"Then hold onto me."

The man tried to move. Dorian supported his weight and dragged him away from the vehicle. I stared. This wasn't the man I remembered. The Demon King would have ordered someone else to do it. He wouldn't have risked himself for a stranger. Would he? I hated the question.

"Marlowe!"

I snapped back to reality. Three people were trapped inside the building. I pointed.

"We need to get them out before the smoke reaches that floor."

Dorian looked at me.

"How do you know?"

"I just know."

"That answer is becoming suspicious."

"Save the people first. Question me later."

His eyes held mine for a beat. Then he nodded.

“Fine."

We moved. For the next ten minutes, we worked together. I directed people toward the safest exits. Dorian broke through blocked doors. When an elderly woman refused to leave without her husband, he went back inside and found him. When a little boy froze halfway down the stairs, Dorian crouched in front of him.

"What's your name?"

"Milo."

"Milo, I'm Dorian."

The boy's lip trembled.

"I'm scared."

"So am l."

The boy looked surprised. Dorian smiled.

"But we're going downstairs anyway."

"Will you stay?"

“Yes."

The boy grabbed his hand. Dorian didn't let go. I looked away. My chest hurts. Not because I was attracted to him. Absolutely not. It was because my memories didn't match what I was seeing. The man who had once killed me had just carried an old woman through smoke. He had held a frightened child's hand. He had risked his life for strangers. And I had no idea what to do with that. A sharp crack sounded overhead. I looked up.

"Dorian!"

The ceiling shifted. He looked at me.

"Run!"

I moved. A chunk of concrete came crashing down. Dorian shoved me forward. We hit the floor and dust filled the air. For a second, I couldn't breathe. Then I felt his hand on my shoulder.

"Are you hurt?"

I jerked away.

"Don't touch me."

He froze. I scrambled upright. His expression changed.

"You're shaking."

"I'm fine."

"You're bleeding."

I looked down. A cut ran across my palm.

"I said I'm fine."

"You don't have to ... "

"I don't need your help."

His brows pulled together.

"I wasn't offering charity."

"I don't care."

I turned away. But he caught my wrist. Just enough to stop me.

"Why do you hate me?"

I stared at his hand around my wrist. Then at him.

"Because I know what you're capable of."

His eyes narrowed.

"What have I done to you?"

"Nothing."

"Then why look at me like that?"

I pulled my wrist free.

"Forget it."

“No."

His voice was quiet now.

"You know something about me."

I said nothing.

"You knew what was happening before anyone else did."

Silence.

"You knew where people needed to go."

He stepped closer.

"You knew what would happen."

I looked away.

"I guessed."

"You don't guess like that."

"I do."

"You're lying."

"So are you."

His expression hardened.

"About what?"

"Being a good man."

The words slipped out before I could stop them. Dorian stared at me. I turned and walked away.

"Marlowe."

I kept walking. He followed.

"Wait."

I didn't. He caught up outside the building. The smoke had begun to thin. Emergency vehicles were finally arriving. People were being treated. The crisis was over. At least for tonight. I stopped near the curb. Dorian came to stand beside me.

"You saved people today."

"So did you."

"You saved more."

"Don't make this into something."

"I'm not."

"Good."

He studied me.

"You're afraid of me."

I looked at him.

“No."

"Then what are you afraid of?"

I had no answer I could give him. I was afraid of the future. Of memories. Of the man standing beside me. Of the possibility that I had been wrong about him. Most of all, I was afraid that the kindness I was seeing wasn't a lie. Because if Dorian had always been a monster, hating him was easy. But if he hadn't been ... Then what exactly had happened to him? I stepped back.

"I need to go."

He didn't stop me. I walked several feet before his voice followed.

"Marlowe."

I turned. Dorian stood beneath the flashing emergency lights. His expression was unreadable. Then he walked toward me. One step. Two. He stopped close enough that I could see the tiny flecks of gold in his eyes.

"You look at me like I'm already dead."

My blood ran cold. I couldn't breathe. Because in my first life, he wasn't the one who died. He was the one who killed me.