Marcus's POV
I'd always thought things unfold piece by piece, sort of like the way layers tumble from a prettily balled-up secret. Rain pounded my apartment window, and city light shattered into a smoky puzzle below as I sat alone at my desk—its surface littered with yellowed notes, crumpled pieces, and bitter shards of lost regret. My mind was racing, burdened by the memories of the past that I had been striving to let go of for so long, and by an uncertain future that was becoming increasingly perilous every second. I had seen too much and could no longer keep quiet, and I knew that now was the time to initiate contact.
I hesitated before I took my secure phone—an old frayed phone that was now my salvation in this halfway-truth-graying world of clandestine cover-ups. I called the numbe
