Wraith steps forward, reaches around Marcus, and yanks the gag down from his mouth. He doesn’t untie him. Just gives him a voice again. “Speak,” Wraith says, low.
Marcus sucks in air like he’s been drowning. “This— this isn’t necessary,” he blurts immediately, voice cracking at the edges. “Whatever this is, it’s not— you don’t need to do this. We’re all on the same side here. We can talk like— like civilized adults—”
I laugh, though the sound rings hollow, slicing through the air. “We’renoton the same side. We never were,” I tell him.
Marcus flinches like I hit him, eyes flicking over me fast, scanning my face, my mouth, my hair like he’s digging through a mental file. And then he finds it. And when he does… His face goes pale so quickly I almost want to applaud.
“… littleEmber?” he whispers.
There it is. Hearing my name in his mouth makes something inside me go cold and electric all at once. I don’t let it show. “Hi, Marcus,” I say softly.
He swallows hard. His eyes dart past me, searching the men behind me, like they’re going to save him. “This is— you shouldn’t be here. You’re— you’re supposed to be—”
“Dead?” I offer.
His mouth snaps shut.
I tilt my head. “Yeah. That would’ve made a lot of things tidier for you, wouldn’t it?”
“Ember,” he tries again, sweeter now, trying to land somewhere between fatherly and professional. I watch him switch tactics in real time. “Listen. I don’t know what they’ve told you, but this—this isn’t what you think. You don’t understand how complicated things were. How much pressure we were under. You were young, you didn’t have context. You were emotional—”
“I wasseventeen,” I say.
It drops like a bell in the room.
He shuts up.
Damien’s shoulders go tight at that. I don’t look at him yet.
“I wasseventeen,” I say again, quieter this time. “Do you remember that? I do. I remember the room. I remember the buzzing light. I remember the oily coffee on your desk and the way the carpet smelled like old sweat. I remember my hands shaking. I remember not knowing where to look.”
Marcus licks his lips. “You were new. You didn’t understand chain of command, and you had… attachment issues. I was trying to keep you from getting flagged as unstable. If I hadn’t stepped in, they would’ve pulled you from rotation. I wasprotectingyou.”
Protecting me.
God. The fucking wanker.
I smile. It doesn’t fit right on my face. It feels too feral, too unhinged.
“Protecting me,” I echo.
“Yes.”
“When I told you not to put your hands on me,” I say calmly, “you told me I wasdramatic. When I told you I didn’t feel safe, you said,grow up, it's part of the job. When I said I was scared, you told me toremember who feeds you. When I saidno, you said I needed tobe smart, love, because this is how it works here.”
His face spasms. “That’s not—”
“When I said I’d tell Owen,” I continue, voice steady, “you smiled at me. Do you remember that part? You smiled. And you said, ‘You don’t want to make trouble for your brother. He’s already under review.’”
Marcus goes from pale to gray.
“Ember—”
“You don’t get to rewrite history,” I tell him quietly. “Not anymore. You don’t get to sit there tied to a chair in a warehouse where you’re about to die, and tell me my memory is defective.”
His breath comes faster, desperate now. “I would never—”
“Why,” I ask, “do men like you think that makes you clean?”
