"Well, I suppose it's not impossible," Pippa said thoughtfully, as she leaned back onto the foot of my bed.
My breakfast tray was sat between us, and we were already picking at it, more her than me, though. There was no way I could finish the large full English my mother had made, and Pippa, having walked all the way from our flat on the other side of town, was more than happy to help.
My parents' place was located on the quieter outskirts of St.Albans, while we lived right in the town centre, where everything and everyone was just a short distance away.
I stared at her. "Are you seriously suggesting that I follow him? Not just to another country," I added, chewing slowly on a piece of toast, "but to another time entirely?"
"Oh, you know me," Pippa said, exhaling like this was the most ordinary conversation in the world. "I'm a complete romantic. I'd miss you, obviously, but come on. It's not everyday you meet someone like Marcus."
"You mean a man from ancient Rome?" I shot back. "What's next? I run into some brooding aristocrat from the Victorian era?"
"That wouldn't be the worst thing," she said, half-laughing. "Have you seen how they dressed back then? The coats, the tailoring...the beards."
I narrowed my eyes at her, pointing my toast in accusation. "You're impossible."
"Look," Pippa said more quietly now, her earlier lightness fading, "I know there's no world in which you'd leave your parents, your life here. But at the very least...before he goes, you should tell him how you feel. Let there be some kind of closure. For the both of you."
My throat tightened. "He's really leaving?"
I hated how small my voice sounded, but I couldn't help it. The thought of never seeing him again settled somewhere deep in my chest, sharp and unfamiliar, like something was eating its way through me from the inside.
Pippa nodded. "That's what he told my father last night. Before he disappeared."
My grip on the edge of the tray tightened. "Disappeared?"
"Garrick was released," she continued, her tone turning matter-of-fact again, though her eyes stayed on me. "Lack of evidence. There wasn't enough to hold him. So...we had to move forward."
A cold feeling crept up my spine. "Move forward how?"
Pippa hesitated for a fraction of a second, just enough to make my stomach drop.
"He's the key," she said. "Garrick. He's the only one who can send Marcus back."
I frowned. "How?"
"The same way he came here," she said quietly. "Through the wound."
The room seemed to still.
"We found records," she went on, more carefully now. "About Marcus. About how he died. It wasn't just a battle, it was betrayal. Someone tied to Garrick's bloodline. An ancestor."
My pulse quickened.
"Marcus didn't just die," Pippa said. "He died wanting vengeance. That...carried over. It's what brought him here."
A pause.
"And it's what will take him back."
I shook my head slowly. "No..."
"He has to finish it," she said. "He has to face Garrick, end it himself. And the wound..." Her voice softened. "It has to happen again. The same blade, the same place."
My chest tightened, breath catching somewhere between disbelief and dread.
"He has to die," I whispered.
Pippa didn't answer right away, but she didn't deny it either.
"How will we know that he survived?" I asked.
"Either he'd leave something behind," Pippa said with a small shrug. "An artifact. A marker. Somewhere only we would think to look."
She paused, her expression turning more uncertain.
"But...you're talking about something surviving from ancient Rome to now. Centuries of war, looting, rebuilding. There's no guarantee anything would still be there. Or even recognizable."
I didn't respond.
The food in front of me suddenly felt heavy, unappealing. What had seemed surreal before was starting to settle into something far words. Something real, with consequences I couldn't ignore.
"He never said he wanted to stay?" I asked quietly, the question slipping out before I could stop it.
Pippa studied me for a moment.
"If he ever did," she said gently, "you'd be the only one who could do that."
The rest of the day passed faster than it should have.
My parents insisted I stay home, but I told them I needed to go back to my flat. I needed more clothes. My laptop. And a new phone, since the last one had been destroyed in the chaos of everything that had happened.
A cheaper one this time, since I couldn't justify spending more. Especially not on a nurse's salary and not when I didn't even know if I still had a job to return to. One moment I had been a suspect. The next, a victim. So I had no idea where that left me.
We borrowed my dad's car, Pippa driving while I sat beside her, the weight of the day settling heavier with every passing mile. By the time we reached the town centre, I had already picked up a replacement phone and a new SIM card.
"Well," Pippa said as she turned onto our street, slowing as the familiar row of small shops came into view, the narrow road leading toward the St.Albans Cathedral just beyond. "I should probably warn you."
My stomach tightened. "Warn me about what?"
She glanced at me briefly before pulling the car over.
"Marcus stayed in your room last night," she said. "Before he disappeared to your place."
I went still. "What? I thought he was with your dad?"
"Well, he didn't want to head over to London unless we take him by force, so this was the alternative," she added. "But he never came back here. Your room was certainly still empty this morning."
A beat passed, as I sat there in the passenger's seat like a fool, taking in Pippa's words.
"How did he even find me?" I asked, more to myself than to her.
Pippa let out a quiet breath, like she had been expecting the question.
"We simply told him your address, didn't think much about it, but Marcus doesn't look for things the way we do," she explained. "He observes. He remembers. He connects patterns. There's a reason why he rose through the ranks pretty fast."
I frowned slightly, turning toward her.
"Hospitals, routes, timing—it wouldn't take much for him to narrow it down, seeing as this is actually a small town," she continued. "From there, your name...your records...even something as simple as following the people connected to you or your parents."
A pause.
"And once he finds a trail," she added, quieter now, "he doesn't lose it."
I swallowed.
Of course he wouldn't wander blindly through a world like this. He would've adapted. Observed. Learned faster than anyone else. This was a man who had commanded armies, of course he would have a strategy in place.
"Anyway," Pippa went on, exhaling as if to shake it off, "it's not like it matters. He's not here, if that's what you're worried about."
My fingers curled slightly in my lap. "Where is he?"
She shrugged, glancing out the windshield. "Probably with my dad. Or Victoria. Could be anywhere, honestly."
The word sat wrong with me.
It was too open. Too uncertain.
"Then we should find him," I said, already reaching for the door handle before I could stop myself. "Before he does something reckless. Before—"
"Hey." Pippa caught my wrist gently, enough to stop me. "Elena."
I turned to her, frustration already building. "He's about to go after Garrick. You heard what your dad said. If we don't—"
"If you go looking for him," she cut in softly, "you won't find him."
I frowned. "What?"
"You know I'm right." Her gaze held mine, steady in a way that made it hard to argue. "Men like him...they don't let themselves be found when they're in that headspace."
My chest tightened.
"What if he's already left?"
"Then that's his choice," she said gently, her expression softening just a fraction. "We can't control him, Elena."
The words settled heavier than I expected.
I looked away, my grip loosening on the door handle as the weight of it sank in. The waiting, the not knowing, the quiet inevitability of it all.
"He'll come back when he's ready," she added.
I nodded, though it felt more like a surrender than an agreement.
Somewhere out there, Marcus was already moving, setting something into motion I couldn't reach, couldn't stop. And all I could do...was wait.
He might've been gone by now, and I wouldn't know.
I leaned back slowly into my seat with a slow, exasperated breath, letting my head fall against the headrest.