Chapter 4

Cold.

That was the first thing I felt.

It was not the kind that brushed against your skin and faded. This one sank deeper, settling into my bones like it had been waiting for me.

My eyes fluttered open slowly, my vision struggling to adjust to the darkness around me. The air was damp, thick, carrying the faint smell of metal and something older, something abandoned.

It was a cellar.

My head throbbed as the memory came back in pieces. The drink, the drug and Magnus. My stomach twisted.

I tried to move, but the sharp pull around my wrists stopped me. My hands were bound tightly behind the chair, the ropes digging into my skin just enough to remind me that whoever tied them knew what they were doing.

Of course they did. This wasn’t random. This was planned. A voice cut through the silence. It was low and filled with frustration. I stilled immediately.

“…you weren’t supposed to move this fast,” Marcus said, pacing somewhere to my right. His tone wasn’t the one I knew. It was sharper and colder. “No, that wasn’t the plan.”

My breath slowed instinctively, my eyes barely open as I listened. “They killed him too early,” he continued. “We didn’t get the leverage we needed.”

My heart stopped. Killed. Not a heart attack.

A slow, burning rage began to rise in my chest, pushing past the shock, past the confusion, settling into something steady and dangerous.

“They don’t even know if she has it,” Marcus went on, his voice dropping lower. “And if she doesn’t, then what? We’ve got nothing.”

Silence followed. Then a quiet, irritated exhale. “No. I’ll handle her.” The call ended. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of his footsteps echoing faintly across the space.

Then, “They always wake up faster than expected.”

My eyes snapped fully open. Marcus stood a few feet away, his phone still in his hand, his gaze fixed on me.

It was nothing like the man I thought I knew.

Something inside me cracked but I didn’t let it show.

I straightened slightly despite the ropes cutting into my wrists. “You killed him.”

My voice came out hoarse, but steady. Marcus tilted his head slightly, studying me. “I didn’t,” he said. “But I knew it was going to happen.”

That somehow felt worse. “You let it happen.”

His jaw tightened faintly, but he didn’t deny it.

“That world you come from,” he said, stepping closer, “it was never going to let a man like your father grow old.”

“You don’t get to justify it,” I snapped, the anger breaking through now. “You don’t get to stand there and act like this is anything but betrayal.”

A bitter smile touched his lips. “Betrayal?” he echoed. “That’s funny, coming from you.”

My brows furrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He let out a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it.

“You really don’t see it, do you?” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Every second with you, I had to pretend. I had to pretend I didn’t know who you were, to pretend I didn’t see the way you flinched at certain names, certain places.”

His gaze darkened slightly. “And then there was him.” My chest tightened. “Raze,” he added.

The way he said the name made something uneasy coil in my stomach.

“I watched you,” Marcus continued, his voice quieter now. “I watched you try to build something with me while you were still stuck on him.”

“That’s not—”

“Don’t,” he cut in sharply. “Don’t lie now.”

The silence that stretched between us was heavy and uncomfortable. “You called his name,” he said after a moment. “Last night.”

My breath caught.

“You think I didn’t notice?” he continued. “You think I didn’t hear it?”

Guilt flickered in my chest but it was quickly swallowed by anger. “You’re the one who drugged me,” I shot back. “You don’t get to play victim here.”

His expression shifted slightly at that. Like he was thinking twice about what was happening. “That wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” he said quietly.

“Then how was it supposed to happen?” I asked coldly.

He didn’t answer immediately. And that told me everything. My stomach turned. “Was any of it real?” I asked, my voice lower now.

The question lingered in the air between us. For a moment, Marcus didn’t speak. Then he let out a slow breath. “That’s the problem,” he said. “It was.”

Something in my chest twisted painfully. “I wasn’t supposed to care,” he continued. “You were just a job. A way in. A means to an end.”

His gaze locked onto mine. “But I did.”

The words didn’t soften anything. They made it worse.

“You don’t get to say that like it changes anything,” I said quietly. “You still chose this.”

His jaw tightened again. “I didn’t have a choice.”

A short, bitter laugh escaped me. “There’s always a choice.” Not in our world. Not in his. Not in mine.

The silence that followed felt heavier than before.

Then he stepped closer. “Where is it, Nyra?”

I didn’t respond.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he added, his tone sharpening again. “Your father’s access. The password. The key to everything he built.”

My lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t do that.”

“I don’t know,” I repeated. The lie sat easily on my tongue. Because even if I did, I would never give it to him. Not after this.

Marcus exhaled slowly, like he had expected that answer. Then he turned slightly. “Bring them in.”

The door creaked open behind him. Heavy footsteps followed. My chest tightened as three men stepped into the dim light.

Recognition hit me instantly. They were my father’s men. The men who had trained under him. Men who had stood guard at that very compound.

Something inside me went cold. “Moles,” I whispered.

Marcus didn’t deny it. “Last chance,” he said.

I looked at him. And whatever I had once felt for him burned away completely. “No.”

The word was quiet but final. He nodded once.

“Fine. Maybe when you get hit, you'll know what I'm talking about.” The men circled me and then, the first hit came fast.

It was sharp enough to snap my head to the side.

Pain bloomed across my cheek, but I didn’t make a sound. They didn't deserve my pain.

Another hit followed. Then another. My body rocked with the force, the chair scraping faintly against the ground.

But through it, I focused on the ropes, on the pressure around my wrists. On the small, precise movements my father had drilled into me over and over again.

“Pain is a distraction, Nyra. Control your mind, or you lose everything.”

I inhaled slowly, ignored the sting, ignored the voices and focused. The rope tightened for a second, then loosened just enough.

A flicker of something sharp and dangerous settled in my chest. One more movement. One more tug and then the rope slipped.

My hands came free. I didn’t hesitate. The moment the next man stepped closer, I moved quickly.

My fingers wrapped around his wrist, twisting sharply before he could react. The gun slipped from his grip, and I caught it in one smooth motion.

A shot rang out. Then another. Then a third. The sound echoed through the cellar, loud and final.

Heavy silence followed.

Marcus didn’t move, he didn’t even try. He just stood there, staring at me and he was stunned. Breathing hard, I straightened slowly, the gun steady in my hand despite everything.

Blood roared in my ears. My body ached. But my mind was clear, cold and focused. I stepped forward until I stood right in front of him.

The barrel of the gun lifted as I aimed directly at his chest. “On your knees,” I said.