Chapter 6 #2
A cold ripple traveled down my spine. It wasn’t confirmation. It wasn’t denial. It was worse. The limbo between.
I exhaled. “I hate waiting.”
“You’re not the only one,” Raven muttered.
She rubbed her arms as if trying to settle the tension beneath her skin. Through our bond, her anxiety brushed against me—restless, filled with shadows shaped like Rene’s fading strength.
Con stepped closer, his presence grounding. “We’ll get the instructions. Then we move.”
“We better,” I said. “Because Rene doesn’t have time for these games.”
Marcus pocketed his phone. “They’ll respond soon. These circles don’t like delays any more than you do.”
I frowned. “Soon isn’t fast enough.”
Raven nodded. “Agreed.”
Isra sank onto the couch beside Jana, lifting a trembling hand to his forehead. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. His entire posture radiated pain, betrayal, and fear.
Marcus watched him, guilt threading through his expression.
Con’s voice cut through the room. “This is our lead. We stay focused.”
I crossed my arms, pacing once to dispel some of the restless energy beneath my skin.
“Fine,” I said. “But the second those instructions come in… we act.”
Marcus nodded. “We will.”
The tension in the suite stretched so tightly it felt like the walls themselves were holding their breath. Marcus pulled out his phone and placed it on the small table beside him, face down, as if looking at it would tempt fate or hurry the next message.
Con broke the silence first.
His voice was even but edged with impatience. “How long could this three-stage auction process take?”
Marcus rubbed the back of his neck. “It varies. These private networks operate across different time zones and under tight surveillance. They stagger their stages to avoid tracing.”
“Give us a number,” Con said.
Marcus met his eyes. “Anywhere from one to three days.”
Raven sucked in a quick breath. “Three days?” Her voice frayed at the edges. “Marcus, Rene may not have three days.”
“I’m sorry,” Marcus replied quietly. “But this isn’t something buyers can rush. If the seller thinks anyone is desperate or suspicious, they’ll pull the piece and vanish. And if they go underground, we might never find it again.”
His explanation wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t make it easier to swallow.
“Meaning we’re stuck waiting,” I said, unable to hide my irritation.
Marcus nodded once. “Yes. Waiting and watching for the next message. But you should all go home. There’s no point staying here. I’ll contact you the second the instructions come in.”
A fresh wave of frustration rolled through me. The idea of sitting around while Rene’s life slipped away made my skin prickle with restless heat.
Raven paced toward the window, arms wrapped tightly around her torso as if holding herself together by sheer will. Through the bond, her fear pressed against me again—frantic, whispering in every beat.
Jana hovered near her mother, rubbing her arm gently. “Mom… it’s okay. Marcus said he’ll get the information. He wants to help.”
Raven didn’t answer. She stared out at the neon wash of city lights, her shoulders tense.
Isra, however, remained motionless on the couch.
When Marcus suggested we leave, his head lifted slowly, and I caught the hurt in his face, raw, unfiltered, impossible to hide behind glamour or glitter. His stunning gown shimmered as he shifted slightly, but the brilliance of it only emphasized how dim his expression had become.
“You think they should… go home?” he asked Marcus.
Marcus swallowed. “Not because I want them gone. But because nothing will happen until the sellers send the next message. And when they do, it’ll come to me first. I’ll handle it.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Isra said, voice rough. “You’re asking them to leave so we can talk.”
Marcus hesitated, then softly said, “Yes.”
It stunned me how openly Isra’s pain showed. He’d always been dramatic—deliberately so, but this wasn’t a performance. This was heartbreak.
He tried to mask it with a small smile, but the attempt collapsed. His lips trembled, and he looked at Raven with eyes shining under his false lashes.
“Could the rest of you give us a moment?” he asked.
He didn’t say please.
He didn’t need to.
Raven crossed to him instantly, kneeling beside the couch. “Isra… we don’t have to—”
“I need to talk to him,” Isra said. “Alone.”
Marcus stood near the window, hands clasped tightly at his back, muscles visibly tense. He didn’t move to approach Isra, but he didn’t retreat either. He was facing what he had avoided until now.
Raven looked at me, searching for guidance. For permission. For strength.
I nodded and touched her shoulder. “He deserves this.”
Jana hugged her father gently before stepping back. Her cheeks were flushed with worry, and her wolf instincts wound tightly inside her expression.
Con watched quietly, jaw clenched, eyes flicking between Isra and Marcus with a warrior’s instinct—ready to intervene if emotions turned volatile. But he didn’t argue. He gave Isra the space he needed.
Raven stood and whispered to me, “I don’t want to leave him.”
“I know,” I said softly. “But he needs to speak without us listening.”
She nodded, though uneasily. Her violet eyes flicked toward Marcus one last time, suspicion simmering under her fury.
Con placed a hand on my lower back, guiding me toward the door. I didn’t resist. The emotional weight in the room was thick enough to choke on, and staying would have done nothing but twist the knife in Isra’s heart.
Before stepping out, I turned back.
Isra sat tall despite the heartbreak etched into every line of his face. His red sequins sparkled like a shattered sunset, the gown hugging his elegant frame as he stared at the man he trusted—the man who had failed him in ways that tore deeper than anyone else could reach.
Marcus looked shattered too.
Not in fear.
Not in guilt alone.
In remorse.
In the dread of losing something he had never expected to find.
They needed this conversation.
The kind where betrayal met explanation.
Where hurt met truth.
Where love was weighed against the consequences of lies told too late.
“We’ll be just outside,” I told Isra quietly.
He nodded, not looking up.
Con opened the door, and the four of us stepped out into the dim hallway, leaving Isra and Marcus in the heavy stillness of the suite.
The door clicked softly behind us.
Raven pressed her back to the wall, eyes closed, hands trembling at her sides. Jana hovered protectively near her, torn between wanting to comfort her mother and worrying about her father.
Con stood beside me in silence, his presence steady and unyielding.
None of us spoke.
Isra’s muffled voice drifted through the door—low, broken, and threaded with pain.
Marcus’ deeper tone followed, quiet and strained, attempting explanations we couldn’t hear clearly.
Raven’s head fell back against the wall, tears glinting at the edges of her eyes.
“He doesn’t deserve this,” she whispered.
“No,” I agreed. “But he deserves the truth.”
“And if Marcus is involved with more than he admitted?” she asked.
“Then we’ll handle it,” I promised.
Con nodded once. “Whatever it takes.”
Another silence followed.
Long, aching, and razor-sharp.
And beneath it, one truth was inescapable.
This auction wasn’t just a mission now.
It wasn’t just about Rene or the pieces of the Pentacoris.
It was about Isra.
Raven.
Jana.
Every soul tied to this dangerous world.
And from the moment we stepped out of that suite, it became clear—
To save Rene, we weren’t just hunting relics anymore.
We were navigating heartbreak… and choosing who we trusted to build a future worth surviving.