Chapter 10 Escape
Mark’s POV
I left her office and slammed the door, but it didn’t shut out the sound of her voice.
Mark, please. They’re lying.
It kept replaying in my head, over and over, until it was a low echo under my skin.
The moment I left her office, I knew I’d fucked up.
I told myself I needed space. That it was better this way.
But walking down that hall, my chest was tight, I knew I was lying to myself. I needed her, her comfort, warm hugs, her smile…
I needed Becca, my head yelled
Carmen had walked in with Olivia, both of them swearing they’d seen Becca with Asher. The photos on my desk had time stamps.
It looked real, the truth
But my gut wasn’t calm. It was a mess.
I wanted to believe my sister. She’d never lied to me like this before. But the way Becca looked at me, her eyes wet and frantic, something in me cracked.
Why did it hurt like this? I’d never called Becca mine. Never asked her to be. We weren’t a couple. We weren’t anything.
Hell, half the time we were together, she pushed me away.
So why did it feel like she’d just reached inside me and broken something I didn’t know I had?
I dragged a hand over my face. Maybe I was losing it.
By the time I walked out of the building, the city had gone quiet, washed in rain. I pulled my jacket tight, head down. And then I saw her.
Becca.
Walking ahead of me like she couldn’t see the world at all. Her shoulders curled, hair stuck to her face. She stepped off the pedestrian walkway without looking.
Suddenly a truck came out of nowhere, barreling down the road, horn blaring.
“Becca!”
Her head snapped up, her eyes wide and scared.
The headlights shone on her face.
I didn’t think. I just ran.
My arms locked around her waist, and I threw us both sideways.
I slammed my shoulder on the pavement, the pain was unbearable but I didn’t care. The truck roared past, missing us by inches.
The rain kept falling, drenching us up.
My heart pounded so hard it hurt. She was under me, trembling, eyes wide like she didn’t know who was holding her.
“Are you hurt?” My voice came out harsh, shaking.
“I…I don’t think so. I'm just bruised.” Her gaze slid to my arm. “You’re bleeding..”
“It’s nothing.” My hand went to her face before I could stop it. Warm, wet skin under my palm.
Her pulse fluttered. “If anything had happened to you…” I had to shut my mouth before the rest spilled out.
She blinked at me. I couldn’t tell if it was gratitude or fear in her eyes.
But I could tell she was cold, so I offered her my already-soak jacket. Well it was better.
I pulled her up, ignoring the pain. “Come on. You’re coming with me.”
Her brow furrowed. “No. I’ll be fine. I can go home…”
“That wasn’t a question.” My voice dropped. “You almost died tonight. You think I’m letting you out of my sight?”
Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but she didn’t. She let me guide her to the car
Back at the penthouse, I sat her on the couch. She looked small and very tempting.
She had one of my big tees on , with her damp hair and perfectly shaven legs
Goshhh!!!
“Let me see your arm,” I said, ignoring my attraction.
She hesitated, then offered it. The scrape wasn’t deep. I cleaned it slowly, my fingers brushing hers more than necessary. I couldn’t seem to stop touching her.
“You don’t have to,” she whispered.
“Yes, I do.” My voice cracked lower than I liked. “Just… let me take care of you, Angel.”
Her eyes flicked up, startled. She didn’t pull away.
Fuck, I'm supposed to be angry at her.
When I finished, she touched my wrist. “Now yours.”
I wanted to tell her no, to wave it off. But she looked at me with that same stubborn, steady gaze that had been undoing me for weeks.
So I let her peel my sleeve back. She sucked in a breath when she saw the cut.
“Mark…”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not.” She pressed the antiseptic gently against my skin. I hissed but didn’t move. Her fingers were careful, lingering.
Every brush of her hand burned. My chest ached with how badly I wanted to pull her into me, kiss her until we both forgot everything. But the pictures, Carmen’s words, Olivia’s nod, they were all still there, clawing at the back of my skull.
Was she lying? Was I?
She looked up at me, eyes locking with mine. For a second, I almost forgot the doubt. All I saw was her mouth, soft and open, her hand trembling on my shoulder.
I leaned in, close enough to feel her breath against my lips.
Her lashes fluttered.
And I almost kissed her. God, I almost did.
But the memory of that office, of her swearing she hadn’t done what those photos showed, slammed into me. The way I’d turned my back on her.
I pulled back. It felt like tearing off a piece of myself.
“You should rest,” I said, my voice low and rough. “The guest room’s yours.”
She stared at me for a heartbeat, like she was trying to read my mind. Then she just nodded and looked away.
I stood before I could break.
The elevator hummed as it carried me down.
The basement level. My secret world.
The scanner blinked green under my thumb, the heavy door unlocking with a click.
Inside, the room glowed blue from the monitors. Rows of screens flickered with feeds, cameras, encrypted data, shadows of things nobody else saw.
I shrugged out of my jacket, ignoring the pull of my shoulder. My hands shook, but not from the wound.
I was losing her. And I couldn’t even tell if she’d ever been mine.
A voice cut through the hum of machines. Smooth. Familiar.
“Longest time, Mark.”
I froze.
And for the first time all night, the ache in my chest was replaced by something else,
Hatred.