"I'm sorry," I said helplessly. "I can't."
Marcus's brows drew together at that.
"Can't?" he repeated slowly, as though weighing the word itself. Then his gaze sharpened. "Or you will not?"
I exhaled, raising my hands to show him they were empty. "Look," I said, trying to keep my voice calm, "I would if I could. But I don't have the key."
His eyes flicked briefly to my hands before returning to my face.
"Garrick's a detective," I continued. "And he says you're a wanted criminal." I shook my head slightly. "I can't help you if you won't tell me who you really are."
Marcus stared at me for a long moment.
The anger in his expression didn't disappear. It shifted into something colder, more calculating settling behind those dark eyes.
"I have already told you who I am," he said at last, his voice rough but steady. "Marcus Valerius."
His gaze held mine with unwavering intensity.
"Marcus Valerius Corvus," he corrected quietly, as though the full name mattered. "General of the Roman legions. Servant of Rome. Favored of Caesar himself."
The chain between the cuff and the bed rail rattled as he lifted his restrained wrist slightly, studying it with open displeasure.
"You bind me like a common thief," he continued, a harder edge creeping into his voice. "Yet I have committed no crime in this place."
His eyes returned to mine, dark and searching.
"There were talks," he added after a moment, almost reluctantly, "that Caesar might one day claim me as a son. That was before...I was betrayed."
The word lingered in the air between us, heavy and unfinished.
"Who tried to—" I swallowed. "Who betrayed you?"
His jaw tightened.
"This man," he said at last, his voice turning colder. "The one you place so much trust in."
His gaze sharpened as it fixed on mine.
"Tell me, Elena," he continued more quietly, "what accusation has this man—this Garrick—laid against me?"
"Murder," I said flatly. "He claims you killed someone. That you're wanted in the country."
Marcus let out a low chuckle.
"I have killed many men, Elena," he replied, a trace of dry amusement in his voice. Something about the sound of it stirred uneasily in my chest.
"You will have to be more specific than that."
"Look," I began, letting out a slow breath as I leaned against the railing of his bed, my hips resting lightly against the plastic bar, "I don't know the details. I only found out when I came back and heard you'd attacked him."
"He told me to stay away, that you were his betrothed," Marcus said, frowning faintly. "I cannot fathom how a woman as kind as you would bind herself to such a man."
"We're not," I said, shaking my head. My grip tightened on the railing. "Not anymore, at least. We used to be. Until he decided to climb into someone else's bed."
Marcus tilted his head slightly, studying me as though weighing every word.
"And this offends you?"
My brows drew together. "Of course it does."
A faint, crooked smile touched his mouth. His gaze drifted down, to where his hand lay cuffed to the bed rail, only inches from mine.
"In my time," he said slowly, "men were free to lie with whom they pleased. Betrothed or not."
His eyes lifted again, meeting mine.
"But," he added, his voice softer now, "that did not mean his woman should be bound to endure it."
Something in his tone made my pulse skip.
For a moment neither of us moved.
Until I became suddenly aware of how close we were. The quiet hum of the machines, the soft beeping of the monitors, the way his gaze seemed to hold mine like an anchor. The air between us felt strangely charged.
So I swallowed, releasing the railing and stepping back, needing the space more than I wanted it.
"You can't seriously be from the past," I said, my voice quieter now. "Can you?"
Marcus didn't answer right away.
He only kept looking at me, with an intensity that made it feel as though he already knew me. "Would you believe me," he asked quietly, "if I said I was?"
"You said you were struck with a sword, didn't you?" I asked. "What's the last thing you remember?"
Marcus leaned back against the pillow, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling as though the answer might be written somewhere above him.
"A Briton," he said slowly. "Golden hair just like your past betrothed. A beard covering half his face." His brows furrowed as he searched his memory. "He told me my prince had betrayed me."
A chill crept down my spine.
"I was already wounded," he continued. "Most of my men were dead. I believed I would soon join them." His voice grew quieter. "He raised his blade. I closed my eyes...and prepared to die."
I hesitated.
"My best friend...Pippa," I said, stepping a little closer to the bed. "She's an archaeologist. She's working a dig near the park in town." My hands moved unconsciously as I spoke, trying to piece the thoughts together. "This morning she told me she found something there. A sword. A Roman one."
Marcus's head snapped toward me.
For the first time since I had met him, something like urgency flashed across his face. "The sword," he said immediately. "Where is it?"
"I—well, the university probably has it by now. They catalog artifacts and—"
"You must bring it to me."
The command came so suddenly that it startled me.
His cuffed hand tightened against the bedrail, the chain clinking softly.
"The blade is mine," Marcus said, his voice low but resolute. "If it is the one I believe it to be, then it should not be left in the hands of—"
The door burst open before he could finish.
Both of us turned.
Dr. Madakwe stepped inside, his usual calm expression already halfway into a frown. Behind him, Garrick walked in.
And behind Garrick—
My stomach dropped.
A woman.
Tall, dark-haired and confident. Dressed in a fitted blazer that screamed detective even without the badge clipped to her belt. The same woman I had once seen leaving Garrick's apartment at six in the morning, when my shift ended surprisingly early.
The one he swore meant nothing.
Dr. Madakwe looked between Marcus and I, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Well, Marcus," he said dryly. "You're awake again."
Garrick's gaze slid past me and landed on Marcus, his mouth curling with something unpleasantly satisfied.
"Perfect timing," he said.
Then he gestured lazily toward the woman beside him.
"My partner and I have a few questions for him."
The woman's eyes moved to me.
And she smiled.