The screen went black.
Not flickering.Not glitching.
Completely dead.
Helena's breath came out uneven as she stared at her own reflection in the dark monitor. For a second, all she could see was herself—wide eyes, pale skin, fear she couldn't hide anymore.
Then—A sound.
Behind them.
A slow, deliberate click.
The door.
Helena turned sharply.
Marcus was already moving.
He stepped in front of her instantly, his body shielding hers without hesitation, his entire posture shifting from controlled to lethal in a single second.
The office door creaked open.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
Helena's pulse thundered in her ears as a shadow stretched across the floor.
Someone stepped inside.
Tall.
Calm.
Unhurried.
The man closed the door behind him with a soft click that echoed louder than it should have.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
"Well," the man said casually, his voice smooth, almost amused. "This is disappointing."
Helena froze.
That voice.
Her stomach dropped.
Marcus's eyes darkened instantly. "You."
The man stepped further into the light.
And Helena finally saw his face clearly.
Her breath caught.
"No…"
Marcus didn't move. Didn't blink. But the tension radiating from him turned the air sharp.
"Did you really think it was someone else?" the man continued, adjusting his cufflinks like this was nothing more than a business meeting. "I'm almost insulted."
Helena's hands trembled slightly at her sides.
"You were there," she whispered.
The man smiled.
"Of course I was."
Marcus's voice dropped—cold, dangerous. "You've been playing a long game."
"Five years," the man replied lightly. "Though I must admit, I didn't expect her to survive this long."
His gaze slid to Helena.
Assessing. Calculating.
Like she was nothing more than a piece on a board.
Helena felt anger cut through her fear. "You forced me."
He tilted his head slightly. "Forced is such an ugly word."
"You threatened my family," she snapped.
"And it worked," he said simply.
Marcus's fist clenched at his side.
"Why?" he asked.
No emotion.
Just pure intent.
The man sighed softly, as if bored by the question.
"Because power, Marcus, isn't given," he said. "It's taken."
A pause.
"And you had too much of it."
Helena's breath caught.
"So you destroyed him?" she asked.
The man smiled faintly.
"I weakened him," he corrected. "There's a difference."
Marcus took a slow step forward.
"Then you underestimated me."
The man chuckled.
"No," he said. "I calculated you."
His eyes darkened slightly.
"But I didn't account for one thing."
His gaze shifted to Helena again.
"Her."
Silence.
Tense. Sharp.
Helena felt Marcus move slightly in front of her again—subtle, but protective.
"You should have stayed quiet," the man continued. "Lived your comfortable little life as the villain everyone believed you to be."
Helena's jaw tightened.
"I was never the villain."
"No," he agreed. "But you played the part beautifully."
Marcus's voice cut in, colder now.
"This ends tonight."
The man raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"
A beat.
Then—Everything changed.
Because suddenly—The lights went out.
Total darkness swallowed the room.
Helena gasped softly.
"Marcus—"
"I'm here," he said instantly.
His hand found hers in the dark.
Strong. Steady.
Grounding.
Footsteps moved.
Fast.
Then—A crash.
Glass shattering again somewhere to the side.
Helena flinched.
"Stay behind me," Marcus ordered.
She didn't argue.
Couldn't.
Her fingers tightened around his hand instinctively.
Seconds passed.
Too slow.
Too loud.
Then the emergency lights flickered on—dim, red, casting the room in a dangerous glow.
The man was gone.
The window—shattered.
Cold air rushed in.
Silence returned.
But it wasn't empty anymore.
It was worse.
Because now they knew.
Marcus let go of her hand slowly, stepping forward toward the broken glass, his expression unreadable—but his eyes…
His eyes burned.
Helena stepped closer. "He got away."
"Yes," Marcus said quietly.
No anger.
No frustration.
Just certainty.
Helena frowned slightly. "You don't seem surprised."
Marcus turned his head slightly, looking back at her.
"I didn't expect to catch him tonight."
Her heart skipped.
"Then this was—"
"A test," he said.
Realization hit her instantly.
"You wanted to confirm it was him."
Marcus nodded once.
"And now?" she asked softly.
His gaze darkened.
"Now," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "I stop reacting… and start hunting."
A chill ran through her.
Because this wasn't just a game anymore.
It wasn't just survival.
It was something far more dangerous.
War.
And Helena realized—Standing there, beside him, in the red glow of emergency lights—She wasn't just caught in it anymore.
She was part of it.