Chapter Nine

The damp stench of blood and sweat clung to the air as Marcus sat slumped in the corner of a rusted cage, his wrists bound tightly behind him. His breathing was shallow, labored, and every movement sent a sharp sting through his battered ribs. Dried blood caked the corners of his mouth, and his shirt stuck to his skin where fresh lashes had torn it open.

The punishment had been brutal—each blow a reminder of his failure. They had dragged him here days ago, chaining him in this cold, unforgiving place like an animal. They hadn't said much during the torture; they didn't need to. Their fists and whips had spoken louder than words.

Marcus clenched his jaw, refusing to show any weakness. He knew what this was. He'd known the moment he let Lena go.

The iron door to the chamber creaked open, and Marcus instinctively straightened, forcing his body upright despite the protests from his wounds. Three figures entered, their boots echoing ominously against the cavern's uneven stone floor.

The leader was a man Marcus knew all too well: Garret, the enforcer of the council and a sadist who relished his role. His piercing blue eyes glinted with malice, and the scars criss crossing his arms only added to his menacing presence.

Behind him were two others: a wiry man with a perpetual sneer and a tall woman with striking red hair and cold, calculating eyes. Garret stopped a few feet away, crossing his arms as he looked down at Marcus. "You're still alive," he said mockingly. "Pity."

Marcus lifted his head, his lips curling into a defiant smirk despite the pain it caused. "You'd miss me if I wasn't around, Garret."

The wiry man barked out a laugh, but Garret's expression darkened. "You think this is a joke? Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I know what I was supposed to do," Marcus rasped, his voice hoarse. "But things didn't go as planned."

"Didn't go as planned?" the red-haired woman repeated coldly. She crouched beside the cage, her green eyes narrowing. "You had her right there. Alone. Vulnerable. And you let her go. Tell me, Marcus, what was your plan exactly? To get close to her? To protect her?"

Marcus's smirk faded, and he met her gaze head-on. "I was buying time," he said through gritted teeth. "Getting to know her—how she thinks, how she moves. Nobody knows her like I do now."

Garret stepped forward, gripping the bars of the cage. "And yet you failed," he growled. "She's alive. Worse, she's with Damien now. Do you know what that means?"

Marcus's stomach churned, but he kept his expression neutral.

The wiry man leaned against the bars, his sneer widening. "It means you've made things ten times harder for us. She's under his protection now. Do you think he'll just hand her over? You've put us all at risk with your incompetence."

Marcus glared at him. "I know I failed. I don't need you reminding me."

"No, Marcus," Garret said, his voice low and dangerous. "You didn't just fail. You betrayed us. You chose to befriend her, to hesitate when you should have acted. You chose her over us."

Marcus's hands clenched behind his back, the rope binding his wrists digging into his skin. "I was being strategic," he bit out. "I learned her routines, her vulnerabilities. Nobody else here knows her like I do."

"Strategic?" The wiry man scoffed, pacing in front of the cage. "You hesitated. Admit it. You had her right there, and you couldn't go through with it. What was it, Marcus? Did her pretty eyes distract you? Did you forget who she was?"

Marcus glared at him, his voice dropping. "I know exactly who she is."

"Do you?" Garret demanded, his voice rising as he slammed a hand against the bars. "Because the way I see it, you've forgotten. You've let your feelings—whatever they are—get in the way of your duty."

"I haven't forgotten," Marcus snapped, his breath hitching as pain flared in his ribs. "She's dangerous. I know that better than anyone."

"Then why didn't you kill her?" The woman snapped, rising to her feet. "You had your chance, and you wasted it. Do you know what will happen if she transitions? If she realizes what she truly is?"

"I know!" Marcus shouted, his voice echoing through the cavern. "I know better than any of you what she's capable of. That's why I'm the one who has to finish this."

Garret laughed, the sound cold and humorless. "Finish it? You? You're lucky we haven't killed you already."

"You need me," Marcus said, his voice steady despite the rage simmering beneath the surface. "I've spent years with her. I know her habits, her weaknesses. I know how to get close without raising suspicion. None of you can do what I can."

The three exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. Marcus could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken debate about whether he was more useful alive or dead.

"You have one chance," Garret said finally. "One chance to clean up the mess you made. If you fail again..." He let the threat hang in the air, but Marcus didn't need it spelled out.

"I won't fail," Marcus said firmly.

Garret studied him for a long moment before turning on his heel. "We'll see."

The wiry man sneered at Marcus one last time before following Garret, but the woman lingered, her eyes locked on his. "Do you care for her?" she asked quietly.

Marcus stiffened, his jaw tightening. "What?"

"You heard me," she said, titling her head slightly. "Do you care for her?"

Marcus didn't answer. He couldn't.

The woman's lips twitched into a faint, knowing smile. "That hesitation will be your undoing," she said before walking away.