Chapter 19 #2
“You made deals in that room,” he said. “You smiled at criminals. You brokered sales of cursed objects and weapons that should never have left their graves.”
Marcus’ jaw tightened. “I never handled anything truly apocalyptic.”
“That formula is apocalyptic,” Isra said, voice rising. “And you stood in the middle of it and never told me.”
The last words hit like thrown glass.
Marcus’ face pinched, pain flashing behind his composure. “I never told you because I did not want you near any of it.”
Isra laughed, short and bitter. “You run an international black-market brokerage for supernatural artifacts behind my back, and your defense is that you did it out of love?”
“Yes,” Marcus said.
The word hung in the air between them.
Raven looked away, giving them a measure of privacy they did not truly have. Con watched from the bed, eyes half open, silent but attentive.
I stayed where I was.
Marcus took a slow breath. “Before I met you, Isra, I dealt in rare and dangerous things. That was my world. Money, influence, items people killed for. When we started seeing each other, I tried to step back. I did. I cut ties with the worst suppliers, stopped handling anything connected to known wars. I refused contracts that targeted specific clans.”
Isra’s mouth twisted. “How noble.”
Marcus winced. “It was not enough. I know that. But it was what I could manage without painting a target on both of us.”
“You could have told me,” Isra said. “You could have said, ‘By the way, dear, I am a criminal.’ You could have given me the respect of a choice.”
“I know,” Marcus said quietly. “I was a coward.”
Isra’s eyes shone for a moment, the first hint of tears threatening to break free. He blinked them back with force. “You lied to my face. You sat in my club, drank my cocktails, met my daughter, and never once mentioned that you were part of the network trying to kill Rene.”
Marcus flinched.
“I did not know the full extent,” he said. “I knew there was an enhancement protocol on the list. I did not know Valerian’s involvement. I did not know how directly it tied to Rene until Cass and Constantine explained the truth.”
“And still you never told me,” Isra whispered.
“I should have,” Marcus said. “I see that now.”
There was no defense in his tone. Only regret.
Raven stepped forward, placing a hand lightly on Isra’s arm. “He should have,” she said. “You are right to be angry.”
He looked at her, expression raw. “Then why are you not throwing him out?”
“Because if it were not for him, we would not have that case,” she said. “And Rene would have one less chance.”
All eyes shifted to the case on the chair.
The weight of it dragged at the room.
Isra’s shoulders sagged. “You think this will save him?”
Raven nodded. “He woke for the first time in hours when Cassara claimed it. He knew we were one step closer.”
Isra closed his eyes.
Silence stretched.
I watched Marcus watch Isra.
Marcus looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, fully aware that a single breath could send him over.
He found his voice again, low and strained. “I never wanted this for you.”
“This?” Isra asked. “You mean violence? Darkness? Living on the edge of war?”
“Yes,” Marcus said. “I wanted you to keep your world. Your stage. Your sequins and your joy and that ridiculous curtain you insisted on installing in your office.”
Isra’s lips twitched, then hardened again.
“I did not tell you because every time I saw you laugh, I wanted that to be your reality,” Marcus said. “Not this. Not warehouses full of killers and formulas that strip people of their souls.”
“You still sat in those warehouses,” Isra said. “You still brokered their deals.”
“I tried to steer them,” Marcus replied.
“I refused some clients outright. I lied to others, told them inventory was gone or shipments were intercepted. I stalled where I could. Pulled strings to move certain items to museums instead of collectors. It was not enough, I know. But I did what I could without dragging you into the crosshairs.”
Isra stared at him.
The conflict in his eyes hurt more than his anger.
He loved this man. That was obvious to anyone who had seen them in the same room for more than a minute. And he felt betrayed. Equally obvious.
The two truths tore through him.
I felt like an intruder watching it.
“I am sorry,” Marcus said. “For lying. For thinking I had the right to decide what you could handle. For believing I was protecting you when I was really protecting myself from losing you.”
Isra swallowed. His hands shook slightly where they hung at his sides.
“If you had told me,” he said quietly, “I would have helped.”
“I know that now,” Marcus whispered.
Raven shot me a look, a subtle tilt of her head that said, Help, before they both drown.
I cleared my throat.
Both men glanced my way, as if startled to remember there were witnesses.
“If it means anything,” I said, “if it were not for Marcus, we would not have retrieved the fragment. At least not tonight. Maybe not at all. His contacts, his reputation, his willingness to stand in that room as if he belonged there are the only reasons I could bid and walk out without a bullet in my skull.”
Marcus looked at me with wary gratitude.
I met his gaze and did not soften my tone. “It does not excuse the secrets. Or the danger. Or the fact you dealt with people who would kill Isra without thinking twice if it earned them a profit.”
He flinched.
“But it matters,” I said. “Tonight, it matters. Because my king is dying, my clan is under attack, and the world is sliding toward a kind of war we cannot win if that formula spreads. You helped pull us one step back from that cliff.”
Isra’s eyes glistened.
I continued, voice roughening. “I do not forgive easily. You know that. Ask Constantine.”
A snort came from the bed.
“I heard that,” Con murmured.
“Good,” I said.