Marcus POV
Drake came to me looking like he'd wrestled with a bear—and lost. His clothes were torn, his hair a mess, and there was blood on his collar that wasn't his. He looked half-dead, half-determined, and wholly dangerous. But what got me wasn't the state he was in. It was his eyes. They were burning—wild, unsteady, and filled with something I hadn't seen in him since the Great War. Fear.
"Lucius is going to kill Eve!"
That was the first thing out of his mouth. No greeting. No explanation. Just that.
I frowned, pushing away from my desk. "Eve? Who the hell is Eve?"
He looked at me like I'd just missed the point of existence itself. His chest rose and fell fast, breath sharp like he'd been running for miles. I could tell by the tremor in his hands that this wasn't some passing panic. Whoever she was, she mattered.
"She's—" He hesitated, dragging a hand down his face before blurting, "Eve is Rose Hawthorn."
