The first shot never fired.
It didn't need to.
Marcus moved before the guards fully committed.
Fast. Controlled. Precise.
A single step—then he shoved Helena backward behind him again.
Harder this time.
Not gentle anymore.
Protective instinct overriding everything else.
"Stay down," he snapped.
Helena caught herself against the wall.
But she didn't fall.
And she didn't obey completely either.
"I'm not fragile," she said sharply.
Marcus didn't look at her.
"Not the point."
The guards advanced.
Weapons raised now.
No hesitation left.
Marcus exhaled once—low.
Then moved.
What happened next was not chaos.
It was control under pressure.
A strike to disarm.
A pivot.
A step inside their space where they couldn't aim cleanly anymore.
Helena watched it unfold.
Not frozen.
Focused.
Tracking him.
He wasn't fighting like someone trying to win.
He was fighting like someone trying to end it fast.
Before it reached her.
One guard went down hard against the wall.
The second adjusted instantly—more trained than expected.
Helena saw it coming a second before Marcus did.
"Left—" she started.
Too late.
The guard swung toward Marcus's side.
Marcus blocked it—but not cleanly.
A hit landed.
Not enough to drop him.
Enough to shift him.
And that shift exposed him for half a second.
The second guard raised the weapon.
Helena moved.
Before she even decided to.
She grabbed the guard's arm—not to fight like Marcus—but to interrupt.
To break timing.
It worked.
Just barely.
The shot went wide—sparks exploding into the metal wall behind them.
Marcus turned instantly.
"Helena!"
She let go immediately, stepping back.
Heart pounding—but steady.
"I'm not standing there doing nothing," she said.
Marcus grabbed her wrist again—harder than before.
Not angry.
Terrified of the gap.
"You could've been hit."
"I wasn't."
"That's not the point."
She stared at him.
Breathing hard now.
Close.
Too close.
"Then what is the point, Marcus?" she asked.
His grip tightened slightly.
Not hurting her.
Anchoring.
"That you don't get caught in this."
Helena let out a sharp breath.
"Too late."
Silence snapped between them again.
Even with chaos around them.
Even with alarms still echoing faintly in the building.
Because that line—was already crossed.
Another sound echoed down the corridor.
More footsteps.
More than before.
Marcus's eyes flicked up immediately.
Expression shifting again.
Calculation returning.
"More are coming," he said.
Helena didn't look away from him.
"Then we leave."
Marcus hesitated.
Just a fraction.
"There's only one route now," he said.
Helena followed his gaze down the corridor.
The path was narrowing.
Doors locking behind them.
No clean exit anymore.
"So take it," she said.
He looked at her again.
Like he was deciding something important.
Then—he pulled her closer.
Not romantic.
Not soft.
Urgent.
"You don't let go of me," he said.
Helena met his eyes.
"I didn't before."
That made something flicker in his expression.
But there was no time to hold it.
They moved.
Fast now.
Down the narrowing corridor.
Behind them—voices. Commands. Pursuit.
Ahead—uncertainty.
Marcus kept her close the entire time.
Not dragging.
Not leading far ahead.
Just… beside him.
Hand still locked with hers.
Like if he let go—something worse than capture would happen.
Helena noticed it.
Of course she did.
"You're shaking less than before," she said while running.
Marcus didn't look at her.
"I'm not shaking."
A pause.
Then, quieter:
"I'm adjusting."
That almost made her smile.
Almost.
They turned another corner.
The corridor opened slightly into an older section.
Dimmer lights.
Less surveillance.
Marcus slowed just slightly.
Not safe.
Just less immediate danger.
Helena caught her breath.
"So what now?" she asked.
Marcus looked ahead.
Then at her.
For a moment—no guards. No alarms. Just them.
"Now," he said quietly,
"we stop pretending this is something you can walk away from."
Helena held his gaze.
"And you?"
A pause.
Marcus's voice lowered.
"I stopped being able to walk away from you a long time ago."
Silence hit differently this time.
Not tension.
Not fear.
Something heavier.
Something closer.
But before it could settle—a loud metallic sound echoed behind them.
A door sealing shut.
Cutting off the path they just came from.
Marcus tightened his grip again.
"Move," he said.
And this time—there was no room left for hesitation.