The room felt smaller now.
Not physically—But because of what was about to be said.
Helena stood a step away from Marcus, the medical kit still open beside them.
The wound was cleaned.
Bandaged.
But the tension between them—Untouched.
"You said he wasn't working alone," she said.
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
Marcus watched her carefully.
"Yes."
A pause.
"Then stop giving me half-truths."
Her gaze sharpened.
"I deserve to know everything."
Silence stretched.
Because she was right.
And they both knew it.
Marcus exhaled slowly, then stood.
The movement was controlled—but there was something heavier behind it now.
"Come with me."
He didn't wait this time.
Didn't ask.
Helena followed anyway.
Across the room.
To a wall that looked like nothing more than smooth concrete.
Marcus pressed his hand flat against it.
A soft click echoed.
The wall shifted.
Helena's eyes widened slightly as a hidden panel slid open—Revealing a room behind it.
Not a bedroom.
Not a living space.
A control room.
Screens.
Files.
Data.
Information layered on top of information.
Her stomach tightened.
"This…"
She stepped inside slowly.
"…this isn't just a safehouse."
"No," Marcus said.
"It's where I keep the truth."
That didn't sound reassuring.
Helena turned toward him.
"About what?"
Marcus didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he walked past her—toward one of the screens.
With a single motion, he activated it.
Images flickered to life.
Files.
Reports.
Names.
And then—Her breath stopped.
Because she saw it.
Her name.
Helena Voss.
Displayed clearly across the screen.
Her pulse spiked.
"What is this?"
Marcus didn't look away from the screen.
"It's why you were targeted."
The words hit harder than anything before.
"Targeted?"
Her voice rose slightly now.
"That wasn't random?"
"No."
The answer came instantly.
Without hesitation.
Without doubt.
Helena stepped closer to the screen, her eyes scanning the information rapidly.
Dates.
Locations.
Old records.
Things she didn't even remember.
"This doesn't make sense," she whispered.
Marcus's gaze shifted to her.
"It will."
She turned to him sharply.
"Then explain it."
A beat of silence.
Then—
"You weren't supposed to survive five years ago."
Everything inside her froze.
"What?"
Marcus's voice didn't change.
"You were meant to disappear."
Her chest tightened painfully.
"No."
A shake of her head.
"That's not—no. That night—"
"That night was planned."
The words cut through her.
Clean.
Sharp.
Unavoidable.
Helena took a step back.
"No," she repeated, quieter now.
More shaken.
"That doesn't make sense."
"It does," Marcus said.
"You just didn't have all the pieces."
Her mind raced.
Trying to put it together.
Trying to understand.
"Then why am I still here?" she asked.
Marcus's gaze darkened slightly.
"Because something went wrong."
Silence.
"Or…"
A pause.
"Someone changed the outcome."
Her breath caught.
The implication hit instantly.
Her eyes locked onto his.
"You?"
Marcus didn't answer.
Which was answer enough.
Helena stared at him.
Really stared this time.
"You knew."
Her voice wasn't loud.
Didn't need to be.
"You knew what happened to me."
Another silence.
Heavier this time.
"And you never told me."
Marcus stepped closer.
Slowly.
Carefully.
"I couldn't."
Her expression hardened.
"That's not a reason."
"It is when telling you would have put you back in their sights."
Her jaw clenched.
"They already were."
"Yes," he said.
"But not like this."
A pause.
"Not until now."
The room felt colder.
Helena turned away from him, her hands pressing lightly against the edge of the desk as she tried to steady herself.
Everything she thought she understood—Was shifting.
Breaking.
Reforming into something darker.
"You don't get to decide what I can handle," she said quietly.
Marcus's voice came softer this time.
"But I do get to protect you."
She laughed.
Once.
Sharp.
Bitter.
"Is that what this is?"
She turned back to him.
"Protection?"
A step closer.
"Or control?"
The question landed hard.
Marcus didn't react immediately.
But something in his expression changed.
Because she wasn't wrong.
Not completely.
"I did what I had to," he said.
"So did I," she replied.
Silence fell again.
But this time—It wasn't quiet.
It was building.
Because now—It wasn't just them against the world.
It was truth against trust.
And neither of them were walking away from that unchanged.
Helena took a slow breath.
Then asked the question that mattered most.
"Who wants me dead?"
Marcus's gaze darkened completely.
And when he answered—His voice was colder than she had ever heard it.
"My family."
Everything stopped.