The drive up to the Cavendish estate was agonizing.
I couldn't bear the thought of sitting beside some unsuspecting Uber driver for two straight hours while I spiraled apart internally, so I splurged and rented a small car instead to drive myself out of London.
At first, the roads were crowded, clogged with the afternoon traffic and endless rows of buildings. But the farther north I went, the emptier everything became. Highways giving way to smaller roads. Small towns blurring past my windows, then eventually, even those disappeared too.
By the time I reached the Midlands and turned onto the long winding road leading toward the Cavendish grounds, unease had already settled deep beneath my ribs.
The estate sat isolated behind stretches of woodland and iron gates, the narrow road curling through acres upon acres of land like something pulled straight from an old gothic novel. Bare trees lined parts of the drive, their branches skeletal against the grey afternoon sky.
And with every mile closer, the tightening in my chest only worsened.
Though I knew Marcus could survive almost anything, that he would hold himself together long enough for me to reach him and get him out of there, this was still a different world from one he came from. I didn't know how much he truly understood yet about modern weapons, surveillance or the kind of violence people were capable of now.
Somehow, I imagined it would've been easier had he come from the early twentieth century instead. Things would've been easier to explain. Easier to adapt.
But Marcus was Roman.
There were centuries of technological and medical advancement separating his world from mine, and no matter how intelligent he was, some things still required time.
Time we might not have.
My grip tightened painfully around the steering wheel.
"Please be alright," I whispered into the empty car.
The moment my car approached the main gates, they began to open slowly before me.
There was no need for an intercom. No guard stopping me. Just the heavy iron gates parting soundlessly, as though they had already been waiting for my arrival.
A chill crept down my spine.
I tightened my grip around the steering wheel and drove forward, deeper into the estate grounds while gravel crunched softly beneath the tires. The road curved through acres of woodland and perfectly maintained gardens, isolated enough that the rest of the world felt impossibly far away.
Then the estate finally came into view.
Dark stone walls rose against the grey afternoon sky, enormous windows gleaming beneath the weak light. It looked less like a home and more like something ancient and untouchable, built by generations of wealth and power that never once expected to be challenged.
The last time I was here, Garrick and I had still been newly-engaged.
He'd drive through the same gravelly path, hand-in-hand, nervous enough that my palms had been sweating. He'd squeeze it all the way until we reached the entrance, where Lady Cavendish, his mother, greeted us with polite approval in her eyes.
I hadn't known it then, that I had been exactly the kind of woman they wanted. Foolishly believing that Garrick had loved me the way I deserved to be loved.
God, I was such a different person then.
One of the footmen, a white old man with bald hair dressed in a pristine suit opened my door, then dipped his head as I climbed out of my car.
"Pleasure to see you again, Miss Wright."
The older valet standing by the entrance gave me a polite nod the moment I stepped out of the car.
"May I have your keys, miss?"
My fingers tightened instinctively around the keys.
"I don't plan to stay long."
A flicker of discomfort crossed his face, though the professional smile never fully left it. "But you are not permitted to park here, miss."
"I know," I said evenly, shutting the car door behind me. "Like I said, I won't be long."
"Let her be, Howard."
My stomach tightened at the sound of Garrick's voice.
He emerged from the front entrance dressed in a dark coat and black trousers, looking infuriatingly composed for someone who had apparently kidnapped by fiancé. The wind stirred through his shorter hair, though his beard was still there, as he descended the small steps slowly, eyes fixed entirely on me.
"There is no use fighting her on this."
Howard hesitated immediately. "But sir—"
Garrick raised a hand without even looking at him.
"I will handle my mother."
The valet lowered his head at once. "Yes, sir."
The moment he stepped away, silence settled heavily between Garrick and I.
I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, forcing myself not to show even an ounce of fear despite the way my pulse hammered beneath my skin.
"Where is Marcus?" I demanded.
Garrick's gaze lingered on me for a moment too long, something unreadable flickering behind those blue eyes.
"Alive," he said simply.
"That wasn't my question."
His jaw tightened faintly.
"You'll see him soon enough."
I took a step closer before I could stop myself. "If you touched him—"
"You came," Garrick cut in quietly, almost sounding surprised by it. "I knew you would."
My stomach twisted in disgust.
"Do not mistake my compliance for surrender," I said coldly. "I am here for Marcus. Nothing else."
For a brief second, something dark flashed across his face. Then he clicked his tongue softly beneath his breath.
"Still stubborn as ever," he muttered.
Before I could react, his hand closed around my elbow firmly as he turned and guided me toward the towering entrance of the mansion.
"Come," he said flatly. "Mother is waiting."
The massive doors opened before us.
Warmth swallowed me instantly, along with the scent of polished wood, expensive perfume and something faintly floral drifting through the halls. The estate looked exactly as I remembered it. With its grand staircases, dark marble floors, portraits of generations long dead staring down from their gilded frames.
But this time, everything felt different. Wrong.
Staff moved quietly through the mansion, carrying trays and speaking in hushed voices, yet the moment I stepped inside, their eyes drifted toward me.
A chill crawled slowly down my spine.
No one looked surprised at seeing me here. It was like they knew I'd fold, one way or another. For Marcus.
"This way," Garrick said.
I followed him deeper into the estate, my heartbeat growing louder with every step. Past the grand staircase, the drawing room I vaguely remembered having tea in years ago with Lady Cavendish while wedding magazines were spread across the table between us.
God. I can't believe I had truly believed I would marry him.
The realization made me feel sick now.
We stopped at the end of a long corridor.
Light spilled beneath a pair of tall wooden doors. Low voices murmured from the other side, though I couldn't truly make out the words.
Then Garrick pushed one of the doors open.
And my breath caught in my throat.