Pick us back

chapter 14

I stand in the kitchen doorway, the oversized hem of Marcus's shirt hanging nearly to my mid-thigh. The tension in the room is thick enough to choke on. Julian is leaning against the counter, his jaw tight, while Ezra watches me with that unreadable, feline curiosity of his.

Marcus is standing by the window, his back to the room. I stay by the entrance, my heart still thudding a mile a minute.

"Marcus?" I whisper, twisting my fingers nervously in the soft fabric of his shirt. He turns slowly, his eyes raking over me, seeing his own clothes hanging off my frame. "Thank you... for the shirt."

His gaze lingers on the collar where it slips off my shoulder, and for a second, the anger in his eyes flickers into something deeper, more complicated. He doesn't say "you're welcome." He doesn't even nod. He just crosses his arms over his chest, his muscles bulging under his sleeves.

"Sit down," he says, his voice a low, gravelly command that leaves no room for argument.

Julian moves to pull out a chair for me, his fingers brushing my arm as I pass, a silent check-in that makes my breath hitch. I sink into the seat, feeling like a small bird trapped in a room full of hawks.

Marcus finally steps away from the window, looming over the head of the table. "Now," he starts, his voice dropping to that dangerous, quiet tone that's always worse than his shouting. "Since you're dressed and Julian's had his fun

Marcus moves with a predatory grace, closing the distance between us until he's looming right over me. Then, he drops down, crouching in front of my chair so we're eye-to-eye. The sheer physical presence of him is overwhelming; he's so close I can smell the faint scent of gunpowder and rain clinging to his jacket.

"You said last night you had questions," he says, his voice dropping to a low, vibrations-in-your-chest rumble.

His eyes are searching mine, intense and unblinking, stripping away any defenses I have left. The anger from moments ago hasn't vanished, but it's been pushed aside by a grim, heavy seriousness. Behind him, I can feel Julian and Ezra go completely still. This isn't a lecture anymore-it's a confession.

"You want to know about your past," Marcus continues, his hands resting on his knees, caging me in. "You want to know about your dad?"He tilts his head slightly, a dark lock of hair falling over his forehead. "Fine. Let's talk. But once I start, there's no going back to the girl you were yesterday. You sure you're ready for the truth?"

I nod, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I'm sure Marcus can see it through his shirt. Ezra and Julian move in closer, sliding into the chairs on either side of me. Their presence feels like a physical weight, pinning me into the reality of whatever comes next.

Marcus doesn't look away. He stays crouched in front of me, his expression carved from stone."We should tell you," he begins, his voice steady but dark, "that we aren't ordinary people. None of us. Not you, and definitely not us."

He takes a breath, and for the first time, I see a flicker of something like pain in his hardened eyes. "Your father... he wasn't just some businessman. He was the right-hand man of the La Mafia. The muscle, the brains, and the blood that kept the gears turning."

I feel the air leave my lungs. I look at Julian, whose jaw is set tight, his eyes fixed on the tabletop.

Marcus drags a chair over, spinning it around to sit backward so he can face me head-on. The air in the kitchen feels like it's thickening, making it harder to breathe with every word he drops.

"Julian is the Mafia boss's son," Marcus clarifies, his voice low and steady. "And your dad? He was the one who made him. He trained Julian in everything-strategy, security, technology. Your father was the ghost in the machine, the man who could disappear anyone or anything with a keystroke."

He leans forward, resting his heavy arms on the back of the chair. "He wasn't just a right-hand man; he was the architect of the whole damn empire. He taught Julian how to see the world in code and shadows."

I glance at Julian. The man who was just kissing me with a starving intensity is now revealed as the heir to a throne built on secrets my own father designed.

"You were part of that world, Nova," Marcus continues, his eyes locking onto mine, refusing to let me look away. "Before the hit, before the fire-you were the princess of a digital kingdom. And the people who took you? They didn't just want you. They wanted the keys your father hid in your head."

Marcus reaches out, his thumb grazing my chin with a touch that is surprisingly tender despite the hardness in his eyes.

"It's why your mother paid for you to be hidden," he says, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. "She knew what was coming. She wanted you far away from the blood and the code-away from us."

He leans in closer, the weight of his responsibility radiating off him. "We all have our places in this, Nova. Ezra? His dad was the mechanic, the one who kept the fleet running and the tracks covered. And my dad..." He pauses, a grim shadow crossing his face. "My dad was Julian's father's best friend. He was the shield."

He squares his shoulders, the oversized shirt I'm wearing-his shirt-feeling heavier by the second as he reveals the truth.

"I wasn't raised to have a normal life," Marcus continues, his gaze intense. "I was raised to protect all of you. I was bred to be this group's leader. To keep Julian in power, to keep Ezra moving, and to keep you safe. That was my only purpose."

He lets his hand drop from my chin, but he doesn't move back. "We spent years thinking you were a ghost

he chuckles , now your not a ghost and your right in front of me , Julian and Ezra.