"Marcus!" Garrick's voice cut clean through the wind, carrying easily across the stone courtyard. "You're finally here. I was beginning to think I had gone through all this trouble for nothing." His smile sharpened. "Shall we finish what we started?"
"Let my daughter go!" Uncle Alan shouted, the words tearing out of him before he could restrain them.
Garrick didn't even bother looking at him.
No, his attention remained fixed, unblinkingly, on Marcus.
"I'm afraid she's merely an...insurance," he said lightly, the blade pressing just enough against Pippa's throat, her blood continued to flow but I knew the wound wasn't deep enough to kill. Yet. "You see, Praetor, men like you don't respond to polite invitations."
He knew.
He fucking knew.
"So I had to be persuasive."
Marcus took a few measured steps forward, placing himself directly in front of me. Close enough that I could feel the solid line of his back, like a quiet barrier drawn between me and the danger ahead.
I stayed where I was, my gaze fixed past him, searching for anything, any opening that might let me pull Pippa free from Garrick's grasp.
But Marcus...
Gone was the man who had stood in the kitchen just minutes ago, watching eggs cook as though they were some foreign ritual. No, who stood before Garrick now was someone older, sharper. A commander carved from discipline and war, every movement measured, every breath controlled.
His gaze flicked once to Pippa, then settled on Garrick.
"You overreach," Marcus said, his voice steady, carrying without effort. "Release the girl. Your quarrel lies with me."
Garrick let out a soft, amused breath. "Straight to it. I admire that." His grip tightened slightly. "But you misunderstand your position. You don't make demands here."
A pause, calculated.
"Walk to me," he continued, almost conversational. "Slowly. Alone." His eyes glinted. "And perhaps she will walk away from this unharmed."
"Don't," I whispered, the word slipping out before I could stop it.
But Marcus didn't turn, didn't even hesitate.
"This is unnecessary," he said, his tone shifting. Firmer now, edged with something unmistakably authoritative. "Release her, and I will come to you. Willingly." A beat. "You have my word."
For the first time, something in Garrick's expression flickered.
"Your word," he echoed. "How...ancient of you."
Marcus took a single step forward, the moment my eyes flickered down to my feet. Pebbles. Why didn't I think of that?
"I do not bargain twice," he said. "Nor do I break what I give."
"Really?" Garrick drawled. "And what about our last bargain?"
His cold gaze snapped to me just as I began to lower myself, forcing me to still. Slowly, I straightened, my pulse quickening under the weight of his attention.
The blade shifted, now angled toward me.
"Her for you," he continued, a cruel edge slipping into his voice. "And we both know how well that turned out, don't we?"
"She is not a thing to be traded," Marcus said, his tone cutting clean and cold. "And I never agreed to such terms."
The wind seemed to still between them, the space tightening with something heavier than threat. Something inevitable.
Garrick tilted his head, studying him as though he were something to be dissected.
"My family has been waiting for this," he said. "For you. For this moment." A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Did you truly think your arrival would go unnoticed? That history would simply...let you pass?"
Marcus's fists clenched at his sides, the only sign of the storm gathering beneath his composure. "You have taken my armies," he said, his voice low, restrained. "The lives of my most trusted men. My land. Is that not enough?"
"England was never Rome's to claim," Garrick replied, almost lazily. He spread one arm wide, the blade glinting as it caught the light, as if the very ground beneath us proved his point. "Look around you. This is what remains of your empire here...mere stories. Footnotes in history books. Nothing more."
A beat passed.
"Then why pursue me?" Marcus asked, his tone sharpening. "Why hunt what you claim is already gone?"
Garrick's smile lingered, slow and deliberate. "Because I shall not let you go back to your time," he revealed.
I moved then, slowly and carefully, lowering myself toward the ground as though the tension itself had forced me down. My fingers skimmed the gravel until they found it. A jagged, solid weight of a rock.
I curled my hand around it, gripping tight, my breath shallow, steadying myself as I waited for the moment where everything would break.
Marcus stilled.
"Then this was never about land," he said, quieter now. "Nor legacy."
Garrick's smile deepened. "No. This is about ending you. Now. No chance of returning. No history left to haunt us, to destroy my family's power."
Pippa let out a small, trembling breath, the knife still poised too close for comfort.
Marcus took a step forward.
"Release the girl," he said, his voice dropping into something firmer, commanding. "Your quarrel is with me. I will come with you, if you give me your word this ends without further bloodshed."
Garrick let out a soft laugh. "Your word again." His grip tightened slightly. "You Romans and your honor."
That was it.
I moved.
The rock left my hand in a single, desperate motion and...struck true.
A sharp crack split the air.
Garrick's head jerked violently to the side, his grip faltering as his balance slipped.
The blade wavered just enough.
Pippa cried out as the pressure at her throat momentarily disappeared.
"Pippa!" Uncle Alan surged forward, faster than I had ever seen him move, wrenching his daughter free and pulling her back against him.
Marcus didn't hesitate.
He closed the distance in two strides, swift and lethal, driving his foot hard into Garrick's wrist. The knife flew out of his grasp, skidding across the stone at our feet with a sharp, grating scrape.
Garrick staggered back, disoriented but still standing, one hand flying to his head only to come away slick with his blood.
My gaze flickered to the side, to my best friend clutched tightly in her father's arms. Her face pale but steady. Her eyes meeting mine.
"You bitch!" he shouted at me.
But I ignored him, shooting Pippa a questioning look instead.
"Watch your tongue when you speak of her!" Marcus warned.
Pippa nodded once, telling me that she's okay.
I nodded back, relief flooding though my chest.
But Garrick didn't falter long.
In one quick motion, he reached behind him, drawing a gun from the waistband of his trousers and raising it, steady and unwavering, pointing it straight at Marcus.
Everything stopped.
Marcus froze mid-step.
The world seemed to narrow to the space between them.
"Did you really think that it would be that easy?" Garrick breathed, his voice low, almost amused despite the blood running down his temple. "Come with me, and I will leave the rest of you alone."
Something inside me snapped into place.
There was no thought. No hesitation.
Just instinct.
The shot rang out.
I moved, as it split the air. Loud, violent, final.
Pain exploded through me before I even understood what had happened. The force of it stealing the breath from my lungs as the world tilted violently beneath my feet.
"Elena—!"
Marcus's voice, sharper than I had ever heard it, cut through the ringing in my ears.
My body gave way, but I didn't hit the ground.
Strong arms caught me, pulling me in, holding me as everything around me began to blur.
"Stay with me," he said, the command breaking at the edges, his hands already searching, pressing, trying to stop what I could feel slipping away. "Elena—look at me."
I tried, for god's sake, I did.
I really did.
But the world was dimming too quickly.
The last thing I saw...was him.
And the fear in those eyes.