The silence didn't feel like peace.
It felt… fragile.
Like something that could shatter at any second.
Helena stepped back first.
Slowly.
Reluctantly.
As if pulling away from Marcus required more strength than anything she had done tonight.
Reality was settling in.
And it wasn't gentle.
Her eyes shifted—Toward the floor.
Toward Adrian.
Still.
Unmoving.
Gone.
A strange tightness wrapped around her chest.
Not grief.
Not exactly.
But something heavier than she expected.
"I…"
Her voice faltered.
"I killed him."
Marcus didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he moved past her.
Calm.
Controlled.
Despite the blood still seeping through his shirt.
He crouched beside Adrian's body, checking quickly—efficiently.
A habit.
A necessity.
Then he stood again.
"He's dead."
The confirmation landed harder than the act itself.
Helena exhaled slowly, her hands curling slightly at her sides.
No going back.
Marcus turned to her again, his gaze softer now—but still sharp underneath.
"You did what had to be done."
"Did I?" she asked quietly.
He didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
A pause.
Then—
"You saved both of us."
Her throat tightened.
Because part of her knew that was true.
And another part—Was still catching up to it.
A distant sound broke the silence.
Sirens.
Helena's head snapped up.
"Did you call them?"
Marcus shook his head once.
"No."
Which meant—Someone else did.
His expression darkened slightly.
"We don't have much time."
The tension snapped back instantly.
Because this—This wasn't over.
Not really.
Helena glanced at Adrian again.
Then back at Marcus.
"What do we do?"
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he stepped closer to her—his presence steady, grounding.
"We leave."
Her brows furrowed.
"Leave?"
"Yes."
His voice was firm.
Decisive.
"No statements. No explanations. Not yet."
The sirens were getting louder now.
Closer.
"They won't see this as self-defense," Marcus continued.
"They'll see power. Control. A scandal waiting to explode."
Helena understood instantly.
Of course they would.
A dead man.
A powerful CEO.
A woman with a past full of betrayal.
It was the perfect storm.
"Come with me," Marcus said.
The words were simple.
But they carried weight.
Choice.
Trust.
Helena hesitated.
Just for a second.
Not because she didn't trust him.
But because she understood what it meant.
If she walked away now—There was no going back to the life she had before.
No clean slate.
No distance.
Just him.
And everything that came with him.
The sirens were almost there.
Marcus didn't rush her.
Didn't push.
He just held her gaze.
Waiting.
Helena took a slow breath.
Then stepped forward.
"I'm not running away," she said.
His expression didn't change.
But something in his eyes did.
"You're not," he agreed.
A pause.
"You're choosing where you stand."
Her lips pressed together slightly.
Then she nodded.
"Then I'm standing with you."
That was all he needed.
Marcus took her hand—firm, certain—
And pulled her toward the exit.
Behind them—The past.
The body.
The version of themselves that no longer existed.
Ahead—Something uncertain.
Something dangerous.
Something new.
They didn't look back.
As they stepped out into the cold night air, the sound of sirens filled the space behind them.
Lights flashing in the distance.
Chaos arriving just a little too late.
Helena tightened her grip on his hand slightly.
"What happens now?" she asked quietly.
Marcus glanced at her.
A faint, dangerous edge returning to his gaze.
"Now," he said,
"We take back everything that tried to destroy us."
Her heart skipped.
Because she believed him.
And for the first time—She wasn't afraid of what that meant.