Chapter 24 Marcus
MARCUS
It didn’t take a minute for Midnight to say yes.
All right, maybe more than a minute. But the moment my “UPS guy” handed her the parcel, she went active, and the button was pressed not long after the door closed behind him. Much faster than the decision she made the first time.
There’s no menu of possibilities this time. I choose who plays, and I decide what the night becomes.
One adjustment is obvious. The Hunt brothers are out.
Not because they’d cross a line, but because I won’t risk anything that could complicate this.
If Iris changes her mind, if her curiosity strays toward two handsome distractions, I don’t want a fallout.
I don’t want to have to choose between them and her.
This way, I make sure I keep my position.
The invitation doesn’t ask questions either. I already know what she wants, and I’ll give it to her. It was such a beautiful sight. The way her body went loose under my hands after the pressure, serene, her mouth parted in that alluring, helpless way, has been sitting under my skin ever since.
Meeting her and her father the other day didn’t help.
She was attentive to him. She knew when to step in and when to let him talk. Watching her with Ross showed me what closeness between a parent and child actually looks like. They smiled at each other like people who’ve weathered things together. It was natural, uncomplicated, and unfakeable.
And I guess Ross himself makes it easy to love him. He’s loud, affectionate, and quick to joke, like a giant teddy bear, all heart.
Iris comes from a family that doesn’t posture or pretend, and seeing her there only makes the pull harder to ignore.
I want to be with her again.
I need to be with her again.
I don’t care if I take nothing for myself. I don’t care if I walk away hungry. My want has never been the point of the Game when it comes to her.
If this is one-sided, then so be it. If pleasure only moves in one direction, I’ll accept that too. This is what the Velvet Game was always meant to be, for me. I’m just playing because of her.
Though there’s no grand design tonight and no spectacle like the roses atop Infinity 360, I doubt there will be talk of intimacy or love. I won’t allow the space for it.
Tonight will be clean.
I’ll surprise her, then take her. I’ll give her what I have and claim whatever she’s willing to give. And the Game will end the way it’s supposed to end: conclusive, with no questions asked.
I’m at The Gallows with Liam. Max is sitting out, still nursing a bruised ego.
“The hour’s almost here,” Mongoose reports over the radio. He’s closing in on Midnight.
The sun hasn’t finished setting yet. There’s still an hour of usable light, enough to complete the taking. I told her to wait at the West Point Foundry, a few miles along the river from The Trap.
That’s my cue.
But I don’t move.
“She might belong to the hour,” Liam says, leaning back, “but I’m thinking that’s your Little Red Riding Hood, Lockwood.”
She’s on the monitor now, navigating the ruins with an ease that makes the place look purpose-built. The red dress rides high with every step, pulled tight over her ass.
I’m still watching when I remember Liam is behind me.
“Do you mind taking your eyes off her?” I warn, stepping in front of the screen. Liam has a dark streak that he rarely lets anyone see. He’d never turn it on me, but still, he doesn’t need to see her like that.
He exhales. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m serious,” I tell him. “Don’t look at her.”
“Don’t you need to go?” he asks.
I glance back at the monitor. She’s right where she should be, heading for the marked tree near the old boring mill wheel.
“Stop looking at her,” I snap.
Liam lifts his hands and covers his eyes. “For security only.”
I wave him off. He’s definitely peeking. I head to the security alcove, open the wardrobe, and pull on my mask. No jacket. Just a white shirt and khakis.
The contrast hits. She’s looking immaculate, while I’m stripped down to function. I chose casual, more casual than usual. I don’t know why I wanted her to see me like this, relaxed and available. And now that I do, I’m not sure it was the right call.
A weird dynamic within myself takes hold, something I haven’t felt before. I want Wolf held apart from her, and Marcus fully present.
I look at myself in the mirror. It was the right call.
I don’t want to stand over her. I want to meet her.
It’s not just about fulfilling her fantasy but serving her as a true partner.
It’s about returning to the simplest rule there is, which is that you give, you earn.
I’ve lived at the top for too long to pretend there’s ever been a reason to step down.
Power is addictive because it makes the ending easy to read.
But with her, I’m willing to risk it.
This isn’t my game anymore.
It’s ours.
For the first time, I consider letting go of control. Do I dare?
The possibility excites me. Fuck, this is messed up!
I head for my SUV and back it out of the garage.
“Wait,” Liam says. “Something’s got her moving.”
“What do you mean?”
I bring the feed onto the dashboard display, the video slotting in beside the navigation without breaking pace. She’s looking uphill now. Something’s caught her attention, and she’s moving toward the boardwalk along Foundry Brook.
What the hell are you doing, Midnight?
“Where’s Mongoose?”
Silence.
We try again. Nothing.
“Fuck.”
It’s too late to reroute anyone. I press harder on the accelerator.
The turn toward the Foundry leads onto a narrower road.
Trees line it tightly on both sides, leaving no margins.
The asphalt breaks into uneven patches, old repairs layered over older ones.
The engine stays eager, barely noticing the terrain, and the headlights rake across stone walls and iron fencing, relics from an earlier time.
I don’t slow down.
I pull in fast, park crooked, kill the engine, and move. The earpiece is in before my door shuts. Gravel spits under my shoes as I get out.
The air smells of iron and wet leaves, while the brook carries sound farther than it should. I run.
The trail is uneven, with roots breaking through packed dirt and stones slick with moss. The boardwalk looms ahead, weathered planks groaning under my weight as I take it two steps at a time.
I can see the boring mill wheel now, and the massive iron curve of it, half-swallowed by earth. I push harder, every instinct screaming that whatever pulled her off course wasn’t part of the design.
And then I see her.
I slow down but stop short of closing the distance.
“Marcus, where are you?” Liam’s voice is soft over the radio.
I don’t answer.
I drop behind the low remains of a collapsed stone retaining wall—old, hand-laid blocks, dark with moss and iron stain. It puts me far enough back to stay unseen but close enough to watch.
“Marcus,” Liam presses. “Talk to me.”
My throat tightens. Another man stands with her. Same mask, same stance. He reaches for her…and she takes his hand.
Something in my gut twists, slow and ugly.
“There’s someone else in this game,” I whisper into the mic.
“Marcus, end it,” Liam says. “Get Iris and get the hell out. Now.”
I ignore him.
The man looks exactly like me, and the mask matches mine. It’s not an imitation; it’s a mirror. That’s not an accident.
It’s him.
Does Iris know him? Did she invite him here—now, after everything—to test how far she could push me? If she did, then she’d be the most accomplished liar I’ve ever met.
I move closer, keeping low and using the rusted casing of an old boiler shell for cover. Its metal skin is pocked and flaking. The ground dips unevenly here, churned by years of runoff and neglect, giving me enough shadow to advance without being seen.
Suddenly, Iris moves.
And nothing I prepared accounts for this.