God, now I was not only seeing things. I was hearing them too.
"Elena."
The voice came again, softer this time. Closer.
"Do not weep," he said quietly. "It pains me to see you this way."
I stilled.
For a moment, I didn't move, didn't even breathe. The thought flickered, sharp and disbelieving.
I couldn't be losing my mind now, can I?
Slowly, I lifted my head.
And there he was.
Marcus stood before me, as solid and real as the ground beneath my feet.
He was dressed differently this time. Modern, but not entirely. A white button-up beneath a deep burgundy coat, the color too reminiscent of the cloaks he must've once wore, as though some part of him still refused to leave that life completely behind.
My breath caught.
He stepped closer, then lowered himself in front of me without hesitation, one knee touching the ground. There was something deliberate in the movement, something almost reverent.
"You grieve," he said, his voice quieter now.
Before I could respond, his hand lifted, his thumb brushing gently beneath my eyes, catching the last of my tears.
The touch was warm. Real.
And that was when it settled, undeniable and true...that he was here.
"I thought you were gone," I breathed, still struggling to reconcile the fact that he was here. With me. Kneeling right in front of me, his hand cupping my face, his thumb brushing slowly over my cheek while the other rested, steady and grounding, against my thigh.
"Gone?" he echoed, a faint crease forming between his brows. There was curiosity in his voice, but something else beneath it too. As if he was searching through my words for something more. "Where would I have gone?"
The question lingered, like he was waiting, testing to see whether I would say it. Whether I would finally admit what he already seemed to know.
I glanced around. The park was still quiet at this hour, only a few dog walkers and joggers occasionally passing by.
A couple of them spared us curious looks, though I could not blame them. A man kneeling in front of a woman with tear-streaked cheeks? We must've looked like the aftermath of a typical lovers' quarrel.
"It's been a month," I said, my voice softer now.
"More," he corrected, his tone calm, certain.
His gaze shifted then, dropping to my shoulder, assessing with quiet focus. "And your wound?"
"Better," I said, though my voice betrayed me, trembling despite my attempt to steady it.
I drew in a slow breath, my hands rising to his face, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. The roughness of his stubble grounded me, made him feel real beneath my touch. I watched the way his gaze darkened, heavy-lidded, as though something so simple, was enough to affect him.
The wind moved through his hair, soft against the harder edges of him. The lines carved into his face spoke of battles fought, of decisions made without hesitation. Of a man who did not waver in his beliefs.
And yet, here he was.
"I thought I'd never see you again," I said quietly, my voice steadier than I felt. "Pippa told me to leave you be. That you'd come looking when you were ready."
His eyes held mine. "And?"
My breath caught.
"I thought you left," I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "You were gone for weeks, and I just—I assumed—"
He moved before I could finish.
One moment there was space between us—
the next, there was none.
His hand came to the back of my neck, firm and unyielding, as he pulled me into him. His lips claiming mine with a force that stole the breath from my lungs.
It was like something long denied, finally taken.
The world around us falling away. The park, the distant sounds, the passing strangers, none of it mattered. There was only him. The heat of him. The certainty in the way he held me, like there had never been a question of whether he would return.
When he finally pulled back, it was only just enough for me to breathe.
"I do not leave what is mine to chance," he said, his voice low, unwavering, his gaze locked onto mine. "Not you, Elena."
His thumb brushed once against my cheek, deliberate and grounding.
"You may doubt," he continued, quieter now, but no less certain, "you may turn from me, even deny what stands before you."
A pause.
"But I do not. I will not."
His hand tightened slightly at my neck. Not enough to hurt, but enough to anchor.
"I said I would come for you," he murmured. "And I have."
My breath faltered, my fingers tightening slightly against his jaw.
"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice softer now, unsteady beneath the weight of his words.
For a moment, he simply looked at me, as if he was measuring something far greater than the question itself.
"I have stood on battlefields where men have begged the gods for mercy," he said slowly, his voice low, deliberate. "I have watched empires rise on blood and fall just as quickly. I have lived a life bound by duty...by vengeance."
His hand slipped from my neck, only to settle more firmly at my waist, pulling me closer. Both of his knees touching the ground.
"But none of it—" he continued, quieter now, "none of it has ever held me as you do."
My heart stuttered.
"I sought to return," he admitted, his gaze never leaving mine. "To finish what was taken from me. To claim what I believed was mine by right."
His thumb brushed lightly against my cheek, grounding, almost reverent.
"And yet, I found that the thought of leaving you behind..." he said, the words slower now, as if each one cost him something, "was a fate I would not endure."
I swallowed, my chest tightening.
"You would stay?" I asked, barely above a whisper.
"If you will have me," he said.
There was no hesitation, no pride in his voice. Just certainty, by something that looked dangerously close to vulnerability. A kind I had never seen nor felt before.
"I would abandon it all," he went on, his voice steady again, though softer than before. "My past. My power. My vengeance. The life that no longer holds me as it once did."
His hand tightened slightly at my waist, not to claim, but to anchor.
"I have commanded men. Conquered lands. Bent the world, in my time, to my will," he said. "But this—"
His gaze sharpened, intent and searching. "This is not mine to command."
A breath.
"You are."
The words settled between us, heavy and undeniable.
"So I will remain," he finished, quieter now, "only if you ask it of me."
My breath caught, his words settling somewhere deep within me. Past my reasons, past my hesitation, right into something I could no longer ignore. All those days, weeks spent without knowing where he could be, whether I'd see him again, was pure agony.
Everything I had been holding onto, all the fear, doubt and the life I thought I couldn't leave behind felt distant now, like it no longer carried the same weight it once did. All I could see was him.
Right here, with me. Waiting.
My fingers curled into the fabric of his coat, grounding myself.
"Yes," I whispered.
The word trembled, but it didn't falter.
His gaze sharpened instantly, searching my face as if to make sure I had meant it.
"Yes," I said it again, stronger this time, even as tears blurred my vision once more. "Stay with me. Please."
Something in him shifted then. Not the control, nor the certainty, but something deeper. Something that felt like release.
His hand came up to my face, brushing away the tears before they could fall, his touch careful, almost reverent. And then he kissed me.
This time, it wasn't something forceful. It wasn't something taken. No, it was steady. Certain and deep.
I leaned into him without thinking, my hands gripping onto him as though he might disappear again if I didn't. The tears slipped free despite myself, but I didn't pull away. I couldn't, I didn't want to. Not when he was right here, real and solid, choosing to stay.
His arms wrapped around me, strong and sure as he lifted me effortlessly from the bench. A soft gasp left me, but it quickly dissolved into something lighter as he smiled, laughing in the air.
The world blurring around the edges as he spun me, slowly, carefully. The ruins, the breeze, the empty park fading into nothing as I clung to him. A quiet, breathless laugh breaking through my tears before I crashed my lips onto his again.
For the first time in what felt like forever—
I think I've felt true happiness.