The moment the doors opened, I stopped dead in my tracks.
For a second I couldn't move.
I couldn't even breathe. My body simply froze where it stood, as though my mind refused to process what my eyes were seeing.
I had never truly understood it before, why some patients' families would go completely still whenever doctors delivered terrible news. Why they would stare blankly ahead like the world had suddenly stopped turning around them.
Now I did.
Because Marcus's wrists were restrained above his head against the wall, chains keeping him in place while his legs remained weakly braced against the floor beneath him.
He was nearly naked, save for the black underwear hanging low on his hips. Blood streaked across his skin. Bruises darkened his ribs, his shoulders, the sharp line of his jaw.
His head lolled slightly to the side, dark hair falling over his face as though even holding himself upright had become difficult.
My heart lurched so violently it hurt.
"Marcus—"
The word tore out of me instinctively as I stumbled forward, horror crashing through my chest at the sight of him.
Lady Cavendish sat calmly at the far end of the room, elegant as ever with a porcelain teacup resting between her fingers, while several older men stood nearby speaking quietly amongst themselves like this was merely another family arrangement.
Meanwhile, Marcus looked like a fallen hero laid out before them.
Something inside me snapped instantly.
"What did you do to him?" I demanded, my voice shaking violently as I rushed toward him.
But the moment I tried to run toward him, I was suddenly yanked backward by my elbow.
Pain shot violently through my injured shoulder, tearing a cry from my throat as Garrick's grip tightened around my arm.
He loosened it almost immediately once he realized what he had done, but still not enough to let me go.
"You bitch!" I shouted, struggling against him.
"Quiet, Elena," Garrick hissed sharply into my ear, dragging me back against his chest. "If you have any hope of walking out of here with him, then you need to behave."
A soft, elegant laugh drifted through the room. Familiar, the same kind that used to drive my spine straight at dinners. The kind of sound before driving pain.
I looked up sharply.
Lord Cavendish rose gracefully from her seat near the fireplace, every movement impossibly poised. Her golden blonde hair was styled flawlessly away from her face, not a strand out of place, while her cream-colored dress looked pristine against the darkness of the room around her. Diamonds glittered subtly at her throat and wrists whenever she moved beneath the dim light.
"Oh, there you are," she said warmly, as though greeting honored guests to dinner. "The lovely couple has finally arrived."
Several heads in the room turned toward us immediately.
My stomach twisted violently.
Garrick's grip remained firm against my arm while Lady Cavendish descended the small step toward us with the elegance of an evil queen receiving visitors into her court.
"Elena, darling," she continued smoothly. "You truly had us worried for a moment. I was beginning to fear you might not come."
I stared at her in disbelief.
Behind her, Marcus shifted weakly against the chains at the sounds of my voice, his bruised face lifting slightly despite whatever they had done to him.
My chest tightened painfully, terror clogging up my throat.
"Enough with the pretenses," I said coldly, forcing strength into my voice despite the panic clawing beneath it. "Let him go."
Lady Cavendish gave a soft hum, as though amused by my tone.
"But that would be far too easy now, wouldn't it?" she replied, tilting her head slightly to her side. "You have to come all this way, darling. What sort of host would I be if I allowed you to leave so soon?"
"You needn't concern yourself with hospitality," I snapped. "Just get on with it. What do you want?"
"Rude," she mused lightly, though the smile curling across her lips reminded me less of elegance now and more of a predator circling her wounded prey. "I do not remember her being this rude, Garrick."
Behind me, Garrick's grip tightened faintly on my arm.
"That tends to happen when you forced her here, Mother," he muttered dryly.
"And here I was beginning to think this had all been your idea," she said lightly, her narrowed gaze flickering briefly toward her son before returning to me. Then she gestured toward the sitting area near the fireplace. "Now that you are here, come. Sit. Listen."
Every instinct inside me screamed not to move.
God, all I wanted was to run to Marcus, tear those chains off of him somehow and drag him far away from this place as possible. But the moment I chose to come here alone, I already understood something terrible.
That only one of us might walk out of this estate freely.
And if it came down to that, I would rather it be me.
Lady Cavendish settled gracefully onto the armchair near the fireplace, crossing one leg over the other as though this were nothing more than an intimate family discussion.
Marcus was still chained against the wall.
Bleeding, breathing heavily.
Garrick's mother settled gracefully onto the armchair near the fireplace, crossing one leg over the other as though this were nothing more than an intimate family discussion.
"You know," she began softly, accepting a glass of wine from one of the men standing nearby, "when I first married into this family, I thought the stories were merely that. Stories." A faint smile touched her lips. "Every old aristocratic family in England has their little legends."
I said nothing.
My eyes simply remained fixed entirely on Marcus.
"But then," she continued, "I started noticing things."
One of the men suddenly drove his fist into Marcus's ribs.
A sharp grunt tore out of him.
"No," I cried instinctively, jerking forward before Garrick restrained me again.
Marcus's head lifted weakly at the sound of my voice.
"Elena..." he rasped.
"Stop touching him!" I shouted.
Lady Cavendish merely continued speaking as though none of it bothered her.
"It was difficult for us to conceive," she said calmly, swirling the wine in her glass. "Pregnancies failed. Children died young. Businesses collapsed one way after another, no matter how promising they seemed." Her eyes darkened slightly. "Even our bloodline itself nearly disappeared several times."
Another blow landed.
I flinched violently at the sound.
"Please!" My voice cracked now as I struggled against Garrick's hold. "Please stop, he has nothing to do with this!"
"But he does," Lady Cavendish replied quietly. "That is precisely the problem."
Marcus coughed harshly, blood staining the corner of his mouth.
Something inside me broke.
Lady Cavendish merely took another delicate sip of her wine before continuing almost conversationally, "Do you know how difficult it is to maintain power when your family is cursed for centuries? We had to become...creative." A humorless smile curved her lips. "Marriages arranged strategically. Wealth hidden carefully. Political alliances. Investments abroad. Every generation fighting simply to survive long enough to produce an heir."
Her gaze drifted toward Marcus.
"All despite our ancestors saving this land from Roman occupation."
Another strike landed across Marcus's stomach hard enough to force a broken sound from his throat.
"Just stop!" I screamed, tears spilling down my face now. "Please, stop hurting him!"
Lady Cavendish finally looked at me then, and gently smiled.
"Then listen carefully, Elena," she said. "Because whether you like it or not, your answer tonight determines the future of both our bloodlines."