He pushed the door open just as the noise swelled. The security earlier was gone, too occupied to usher the guests that were already beginning to move. Some rising from their seats, others turning toward the exits as staff hurried past with forced calm.
They had planned a distraction.
Marcus didn't slow. His grip on my hand tightened as he guided me through the corridor, his movements precise, cutting through the confusion like he had mapped it out in his mind long before this moment.
"Keep close," he murmured.
He didn't have to tell me twice.
My pulse thundered in my ears as we slipped past a pair of staff members rushing in the opposite direction, their attention fixed elsewhere. No one stopped us. No one even looked twice.
We turned sharply down another hallway. It was quieter, dimmer, and for the first time since this began, I felt it. The distance. From Garrick, the stage, everything.
"Marcus—" I started, breathless.
He didn't stop.
"You will have your answers," he said, his voice low but certain. "But not here."
Another turn.
A door ahead, unmarked.
But we didn't make it any further when a sharp click echoed behind us.
Cold. Distinct.
My blood ran cold before I even turn.
"Well," Garrick's voice drawled from the shadows, far too calm for the chaos still ringing through the building, "that was almost impressive."
Marcus stilled beside me.
Slowly, deliberately, he turned, placing himself just slightly in front of me without breaking his grip on my hand.
Garrick stepped forward into the dim light, his gun still raised, pointed at us.
My breath hitched.
"You really thought you could walk her out of here?" he continued, tilting his head, amusement flickering his eyes. "In an event for my family?"
The alarm still echoed faintly behind him, distant now. Irrelevant.
This was the real danger.
"If it is me you desire, then face me as such," Marcus said, his voice carrying the weight of command. "Do not hide behind a woman to claim your prize."
Garrick let out a quiet laugh, slow and unimpressed.
"Then how else," he drawled, taking another step forward, "was I meant to draw you out?"
His gaze flicked to me, brief and assessing, before returning to Marcus.
"We both know," he continued, a smirk tugging at his lips, "that even the strongest of men have their weaknesses."
His eyes darkened slightly.
"And you," he added voice laced with satisfaction, "have proven yours rather clearly."
Marcus didn't so much as glance at me, his attention solely remained on Garrick.
"You mistake strength for weakness," Marcus said quietly. "And in doing so, you have already shown me the measure of you."
Garrick's smile thinned.
"Spare me the philosophy," he muttered, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Time seemed to slow.
I could see it, the shift in his hand. I ducked, and the minute tension in his arm—
"Marcus!"
But the shot never came.
His body dropped low just as Garrick fired. The sound cracked through the corridor, deafening. The bullet lodging somewhere behind us as Marcus closed the distance in the same breath.
His hand struck Garrick's wrist, knocking the gun off its aim. A precise, brutal movement. Garrick cursed, trying to recover, but Marcus was already on him, grappling, forcing his arm back with controlled strength.
They crashed into the wall.
The gun slipped, clattering to the floor.
Marcus kicked it away, causing it to skid across the tiles.
Toward me.
I froze.
Marcus twisted Garrick's arm further, wrenching a pained groan out of him, forcing him off balance and driving him down. Every movement was precise, efficient in a way that spoke of battle, of discipline far beyond anything modern or civilized.
"Take it!" Marcus barked, the command cutting clean through my panic.
He didn't have to tell me twice.
I lunged.
My fingers closed around the cold metal just as Garrick surged, struggling to break free. The two of them grappled violently now, breaths harsh, movements sharp and unforgiving. No hesitation, nor restraint.
My heart pounded in my ears, loud and relentless.
The weight of the gun sat heavy in my hand. Real and dangerous.
I raised the gun, my hands steadier than I felt and aimed straight at them.
"Stop!"
Marcus had Garrick locked in a chokehold, his arm tight around his throat as he wrenched him back, forcing him to face me. Garrick's blond hair was disheveled, blood trailing from his nose as he struggled, fingers clawing uselessly at Marcus's tight grip.
For a fleeting, dangerous second, the sight satisfied something in me.
"Let us go," I said, my voice low, controlled. Even to my own ears, it sounded steadier than it had any right to be. "And I won't shoot."
A breathless, broken laugh slipped from Garrick.
"Fuck that," he rasped against Marcus's arm. "Go on, just fire the gun, Elena."
His cold eyes locked onto mine, bright with challenge.
"We both know you don't have it in you."
My grip tightened around the gun.
"And besides," he continued, voice rough but taunting, "you really think the two of you are walking out of here?"
A sharp inhale shuddered through him as Marcus's hold tightened, but the smirk remained. "I've got security on every exit," he went on. "Every corridor, every door. You won't make it ten steps before you're dragged back."
The possibility of Marcus being under the hands of Garrick's powerful family—I know how powerful they can be.
I didn't even think.
My finger tightened on the trigger.
The shot rang out, deafening in the narrow corridor.
Garrick's body jerked against Marcus's hold, a strangled cry tearing out of his throat as his leg gave out beneath him. Blood spread quickly, dark against the polished floor.
"You fucking bitch!"
I couldn't breathe.
Oh god.
I've shot him.
The gun trembled in my hand, my pulse roaring in my ears as the reality of it slammed into me all at once.
Marcus didn't hesitate.
He released Garrick instantly, letting him crumple to the ground, clutching his leg as he let out a string of curses through gritted teeth.
"Elena."
He was in front of me in the next breath, his hand closing firmly around mine, steadying and anchoring. "Come."
He pulled me forward just as shouts erupted from the far end of the corridor.
"This way!"
Footsteps were chasing us.
Too close.
Marcus moved without pause, guiding me down the dim hallway. His grip unwavering as we turned sharply into another corridor, narrower, quieter.
"Keep moving," he said under his breath.
My legs obeyed, even as my mind lagged behind, still caught on the echo of the gunshot. The image of Garrick on the floor—blood. There was too much blood.
"Eyes forward," Marcus murmured, firmer this time.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to focus.
Another turn, there were voices ahead.
Marcus halted abruptly, pulling me back just as two guards rushed past the intersection, their attention fixed in the opposite direction.
It was close. Too close.
But he didn't waste a second.
We slipped in behind them, moving quickly now. Controlled, but urgent, down a narrow service corridor that smelled faintly like cleaning supplies and old stone.
Only then did he reach for the gun I hadn't even realized I was still holding.
His fingers closed around mine, steady but firm, as he carefully pried it from my grasp. With practiced ease, he clicked the safety on and tucked it into his jacket.
My brows furrowed.
Since when did he know how to do that?
But I didn't get a chance to ask, when he had started moving again, pulling me forward before I could find the words.
A door loomed ahead, unmarked.
Marcus shoved it open.
Cold air hit my face.
We stumbled out into the darkness behind the building, the noise from inside muffled instantly as the door slammed shut behind us.
For a moment, we just stood there.
My chest heaved, my hand still clutched tightly in his, the gun hanging uselessly at my side.
"I—" My voice broke. "I shot him."
Marcus turned to me, his gaze steady, searching.
"You did what was required," he said quietly.
My hands were still shaking.
"I didn't—I didn't even think—"
"And that," he said, his grip tightening just slightly around mine, "is why we are still standing here."
The weight of it crashed over me all at once.
"Elena!"
We both turned to find Uncle Alan rushing toward us, slightly out of breath but composed enough to keep moving. Still dressed in his suit.
"We have to go," he said, urgency threading through his tone.
He gave a brief nod toward the street beyond, already scanning their surroundings. "Now."
Marcus didn't hesitate.
His hand tightened around mine once more.
"Let us go," he said.
And this time, I followed without question.