Pick us back

chapter 19

I let out a long, shaky breath and finally give in, leaning my weight against him. I don't let go of myself, my arms still wrapped tightly around my own body as a shield, but I let his solid frame take the burden of keeping me upright.

Marcus’s arms pull me flush against him, his grip firm and protective as if he’s trying to shield me from the very air around us. He rests his chin on the top of my head, and I can feel the heavy, weary sigh that racks his frame.

"Do you want to go back to the house?" he asks, his voice a low rumble against my temple. "Or we can head back down to the city.

I have a place there... or we can find a hotel. Somewhere quiet where it’s just us, and you don’t have to deal with Julian or Ezra until you’re ready."

The choice hangs in the air. Going back to the house means facing the reality of the Mafia, the blood on the floor, and the intense, searching eyes of the others.

But the city offers a different kind of hiding—anonymity in a room where the door locks from the inside and the shadows don't know my name.

I stay tucked against his chest for a moment longer, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart.

It’s the only thing that feels certain right now.

"The house is a fortress," Marcus adds, his voice dropping an octave. "You’d be safest there. But if you need a night where the walls don't feel like they're watching you... we go to the city. It’s your call, Nova

I pull my phone out, the screen bright against the darkness of the mountain. My fingers hover over the keys, but I force myself to type the words. I need to know where the lines are drawn between these men.

To Julian: Julian are you comfortable with me staying at Marcus's I want to I just need a night

Marcus stays perfectly still as I send it, his chin still resting on the top of my head. He doesn't try to peek at the screen, but I can feel the tension in his muscles, the silent wait for the

"boss’s son" to give his blessing or his command.

The three dots appear almost instantly. My heart skips a beat.

Julian: If that’s what makes you feel safe, Nova, then go. Marcus has my trust with your life. I’ll see you in the morning. Rest.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. It wasn't an order; it was permission to just be. I show the screen to Marcus. He reads it, and I feel the tension finally drain out of his shoulders.

"Right," Marcus whispers, his grip tightening for just a second before he lets me go so we can get back in the car. "The city it is."

We climb back into the Porsche, the interior still smelling of leather and the promise of a quiet night.

Marcus drives with a focused, calm energy, weaving through the mountain passes and back toward the glowing grid of the city.

He pulls up to a sleek, glass-fronted building with a private underground entrance.

He doesn't take me to a lobby. He uses a private key to an elevator that opens directly into a massive, minimalist penthouse. It’s all dark wood, floor-to-ceiling windows, and silence.

"This is my place,"

Marcus says, tossing the keys onto a marble counter. "No cameras, no guards inside the unit. Just me. There’s a guest room down the hall, or..." He pauses, looking at me, his eyes softening as they land on the oversized shirt I’m still wearing.

"You can take my room. I’ll stay on the couch. I just want you to feel like you can sleep without one eye open."

I look around the vast, empty space. It feels like a sanctuary, but it also feels like the lair of the man who was raised to be a leader of monsters

"The shower is through there," Marcus says, gesturing toward the master suite. "Everything you need is already laid out—towels, soaps. Just... take your time, honey."

I nod, clutching the hem of his oversized shirt as I turn toward the bathroom. I just need the hot water to wash away the smell of copper and the feeling of hands that weren't invited.

As I walk away, I hear the low, heavy buzz of Marcus’s phone against the marble counter. He doesn't answer it immediately.

He waits until I’ve almost reached the door before he picks it up.

I glance back over my shoulder just as he glances at the screen. His expression shifts instantly—the softness he had for me on the mountain vanishes, replaced by the sharp, focused mask of a leader.

"Julian," Marcus says, his voice dropping into a low, professional rumble as he answers.

I step into the bathroom and click the door shut, but the walls aren't thick enough to drown out the sudden tension in his tone.

"I know," Marcus says into the phone, his voice muffled but stern. "She’s safe. She’s going to shower and sleep... No, Julian, don’t. We discussed this. Give her the night."

There’s a pause, and I can almost imagine Julian on the other end, pacing the floor of that fortress-like house, his knuckles white as he grips his own phone.

"I don't care if the scouts found a trail," Marcus growls, and I freeze with my hand on the shower dial. "We aren't moving tonight.

If they come anywhere near this building, they won't make it past the lobby. You have my word. Just keep Ezra on the perimeter and stay by the phone."

He hangs up with a sharp clack of the phone hitting the counter again. Outside the door, I hear him exhale a long, jagged breath, followed by the sound of him pacing the length of the living room.

The water starts to run, steaming up the glass and filling the room with heat, but Marcus’s words echo in my head. Scouts. A trail. The "night off" I thought

I was getting feels a lot more like a temporary truce in a war I’m only just beginning to understand.