For a moment, I didn't understand what had happened.
The world had tilted. The ground felt farther away than it should have been, as if I was falling from somewhere high above, suspended in a slow, endless drop. The edges of my vision blurred, my eyelids growing heavy as darkness crept in, soft and insistent.
My breath caught somewhere between my lungs and my throat, refusing to move.
"Elena."
His voice cut through everything else. Through the ringing, through the haze, through the strange numbness spreading through my body.
I tried to answer. Or at least, I think I did.
My fingers curled weakly against him instead, clutching whatever part of him I could find, as if letting go would send me somewhere I couldn't return from.
Something warm spread beneath my hand.
Wet. Too much.
Oh—that's blood.
"You're bleeding," I murmured, though I could barely hear my own voice over the ringing in my ears.
"No..."
Not Marcus, now. Garrick.
There was something different in his voice now. Not amusement. Just shock. But I couldn't find the energy to turn my head towards him.
"Stay with me."
Marcus again, though his voice changed.
I had never heard it like that before. Not controlled, but like...like a man about to break.
"Victoria!" he snapped, the words sharp, urgent, then something else followed. Unfamiliar, rapid. Latin. I didn't understand it, but I could feel it. The command reverberating out of his chest.
Hands caught me as Marcus let go, lowering me carefully as if I might shatter.
"No—" I tried, but the word barely formed.
But he was gone.
A sound cracked through the air.
I forced my eyes to open, my head to turn just far enough to see Marcus colliding with Garrick. There was no hesitation, no restraint, only force. Pure rage.
His fist connected once, hard enough to snap Garrick's head back. Then again. And again. Each strike deliberate, brutal, unrelenting.
Garrick tried to fight back, but the shock hadn't left him yet. His movements were slower, unsteady, like he couldn't quite catch up to what he had done.
Marcus didn't even give him the chance.
He drove him back with another blow, then another, until Garrick crumpled against the stone, barely able to remain upright before the next strike sent him collapsing to the ground.
Still—
Marcus didn't stop.
Even when Garrick stopped moving.
Even when he went limp beneath him.
Marcus's hands curled, ready to strike again, something final. Something that would not be undone—
My lips parted to tell him to stop, but before I could—
"Marcus!"
Uncle Alan's voice broke through everything.
Footsteps rushed forward.
Hands grabbed him, pulling him back.
"Stop! That's enough!"
For a moment, it didn't seem like Marcus had heard him.
His entire body was rigid, coiled with something violent and unresolved, his breathing uneven, his focus still locked on Garrick's motionless form.
"Marcus."
Closer this time. Firmer.
He stilled.
The world swayed again, heavier now. Colder.
The last thing I felt was Victoria's grip tightening around me.
And Marcus, turning back.