Chapter 18 Caught in the Shadows
Wynter's POV
We followed at a distance, keeping to the shadows and using the landscaping as cover.
Marcus led us deeper into the abandoned complex, past buildings with boarded-up windows and overgrown gardens, until he finally stopped at one of the larger structures—what looked like it had once been a faculty apartment building.
He glanced around one more time, then slipped inside through a side entrance.
Jax and I exchanged a look. Without a word, we crept closer, moving as quietly as we could. The building loomed above us, dark and silent.
Then I heard it—voices drifting from a cracked window on the second floor, low and intimate in a way that made my skin crawl.
"You really came through for me." Anne's voice, breathy and impressed. "I was worried you'd break under Sterling's questioning."
Jax's hand shot out, grabbing my arm and pulling me back into the shadows beneath the window. We crouched behind an overgrown hedge and a pile of discarded building materials—old wooden planks and rusted metal frames that provided cover. We pressed against the wall, barely breathing.
"I told you I wouldn't say anything." Marcus's voice, eager and desperate for approval. "He can suspect all he wants. Without proof, he can't touch you."
My blood ran cold. Jax was already moving, his hand carefully angling his phone toward the opening. He pulled out a single wireless earbud, tucking it into his ear to monitor the recording. The camera lens caught the faint glow of lamplight from inside—but the window was only partially open, the angle awkward, and the light inside was dim and flickering.
Through the grainy viewfinder, I could make out shadowy movement—two silhouettes, their features completely obscured. Anne's pale form was slightly more visible as a lighter shadow, but her face remained completely hidden. Marcus was little more than a dark silhouette, his back mostly to the window.
Jax grimaced, adjusting his earbud, his face twisting in frustration.
"Shit," he mouthed silently, pointing to his ear. "Can't hear anything—just static."
The building's old wiring, the distance, the partially closed window—everything was working against us. The recording would capture nothing but garbled noise.
But I could hear them clearly. My enhanced senses cut through the distance and the walls, picking up every word. Even as I realized with sinking dread that this wouldn't matter—who would believe us? It would just be our word against theirs.
"Thank you for bailing me out," Marcus continued. "When they dragged me in for questioning after I confessed, I thought that was it. But thanks to your father pressuring the Council, I'm at least out temporarily."
My stomach twisted. So that's how he got out even after confessing.
"Of course I did." Anne's voice turned softer, almost purring. "You're mine, Marcus. And you proved yourself—you kept your mouth shut about my involvement even when Sterling was breathing down your neck. That kind of loyalty deserves a reward."
"He knows I did it," Marcus said, nervous edge beneath his bravado. "I confessed to attacking her. But he can't prove you were involved. He can't prove it was anything more than me acting on my own."
"Exactly." Anne's voice was sharp with satisfaction. "As long as you keep insisting it was your idea, your jealousy, your decision—he can't touch me."
"I told him I was jealous," Marcus said quickly. "That I hated seeing you upset over Sterling choosing her. That I thought if I damaged her Mark, maybe you'd have a chance again. He didn't believe me, but he couldn't disprove it either."
"Good boy." There was a rustling sound, fabric sliding. "You played your part perfectly. And now—" Her voice dropped, turned seductive. "Now you get your reward."
Through the gap in the glass, I could make out shadowy movement—Anne's pale silhouette moving with deliberate grace, Marcus's darker outline following her like a puppet on strings.
"Come here," she commanded.
"Show me how grateful you are," Anne purred, and I heard the unmistakable sound of clothing being removed, of bodies coming together.
Beside me, Jax kept the phone steady, but I could see his hand trembling. He pulled out the earbud in frustration, shaking his head—the audio was completely useless. The footage was going to be just as bad—grainy silhouettes captured at an impossible angle, faces never visible.
But still, I listened. Still, I heard every damning word.
Jax had gone absolutely rigid, his eyes now fully amber-red, but he kept the phone steady even as his whole body shook with barely contained violence. The collar was pulsing so brightly now that I was afraid someone might see it. His free hand shot up immediately, yanking his jacket collar up to cover the glowing silver.
"You've earned more. Come here," Anne commanded.
There was the sound of a belt buckle, fabric rustling. Through the cracked pane, I watched the silhouettes merge—Anne's outline leaning back, Marcus's shadow positioning himself between her legs.
"You know what I want to hear," she said, her voice breathy but still in control. "Tell me again how Sterling looked when he couldn't prove anything."
"He was furious," Marcus said, his voice strained. "Absolutely furious. I confessed to the attack, but without evidence that you planned it, without proof that it wasn't just me acting alone, he couldn't touch you."
"And Natalie? Vivian?" Anne's breathing quickened. "They're keeping quiet too?"
"They know the story. We all acted independently. Just three people who happened to hate the same girl." Marcus's voice was breaking now. "But you need to watch Vivian. She's showing signs of turning. That useless piece of trash."
"I'll keep an eye on her." She said.
I watched Jax's hand shake as he held the phone, but he didn't lower it. Didn't stop recording even as the collar sent visible shocks through his body.
The silhouettes inside moved together, the sounds growing more explicit. And through it all, Anne's voice, still commanding:
"You're mine as long as you keep your mouth shut. As long as you maintain the story. The moment Sterling gets proof that I was involved—the moment you slip—"
"I won't," Marcus gasped. "I'll never—I swear—"
"Good." Anne's nails raked down his back—I could see the shadow of the movement through the opening. "Because if you do, you won't just lose me. You'll lose everything."
They finished—Marcus with a desperate groan, Anne with a cold, triumphant cry. For a long moment, there was only harsh breathing.
"Thank you," Marcus said finally. "Thank you for protecting me. For getting your father to bail me out."
"I know." Anne's voice was already dismissive. "Get dressed. We need to be careful. Can't have anyone seeing us together too often. It might make Sterling suspicious."
"But I thought—"
"You thought wrong." Her voice turned sharp. "We're not together, Marcus. You're useful to me. That's all. Now get dressed and get out."
I heard rustling—clothes being pulled back on, Marcus's wounded silence.
"Can't wait to see her face tomorrow," Anne said as they prepared to leave. "When she realizes that even with you confessing, nothing changed. That Sterling still can't prove anything. That she's still alone with that ruined neck."
Jax finally started to lower the phone, his face a mask of barely controlled violence. But just as he did, I shifted my weight to move back from our hiding spot.
Pain exploded through my damaged Mark—a searing, white-hot agony that made my vision blur. My knees buckled, and I had to bite down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. The Mark throbbed with each heartbeat, sending waves of nausea through me.
I tried to steady myself, gripping the edge of the rusted metal frame beside us, but my hands were shaking, my whole body trembling from the effort of staying silent. My foot caught on one of the old wooden planks.
The wood scraped against the ground—loud in the quiet night.
Inside the cottage, everything went silent.
"What was that?" Anne's voice, sharp and suspicious.
"Probably just the wind," Marcus said, but I could hear him moving toward the gap in the glass. "This place is falling apart—"
"No." Anne's voice was certain now. "I heard something. Right outside. Check it."
Through the opening, I saw the silhouettes moving—Marcus heading toward the door, Anne's shadow moving closer to the window. But the overgrown branches of an old oak tree obscured her view, its gnarled limbs creating a natural screen between us and her line of sight.
"We need to go," I hissed at Jax. "Now—"
But as I tried to back away from our hiding spot, another wave of pain shot through my Mark. My vision went white for a second, and my body convulsed involuntarily. I lost my balance completely, stumbling against the pile of discarded materials. One of the metal frames shifted with a scraping sound that seemed to echo like thunder.
My breath came in short, painful gasps. Every movement sent fresh agony radiating from my neck, and I was shaking so badly I could barely stay upright.
Good thing the wind was carrying our scent away from them. Otherwise...
"There!" Anne's voice rang out. "I heard it again! Someone's out there—right outside this window!"