"Fucking hell," I muttered under my breath, stealing another glance over my shoulder.
Further down the carriage, Garrick had risen from his seat again, only to be firmly asked by the train officer to sit back down. This time, even his badge wouldn't draw him favors.
The train shuddered softly as it began to gather speed.
I turned my head toward Marcus.
He sat rigidly in his seat, his hands gripping the armrests as if they were the only things anchoring him to the ground. His jaw was clenched tight, his eyes shut as though he was attempting to shut the entire world out.
"Do not trouble yourself for me, Elena," he murmured. "I shall endure."
But the way his jaw tightened as the train accelerated told me otherwise.
I covered his hand gently with mine.
"It's alright," I said softly. "You don't have to pretend."
His eyes opened then, turning toward me.
"Is your former lover still out there?" he asked.
"You should stop calling him that," I said quietly. "We ended things months ago."
His lips curved faintly. Perhaps it was a trick of light, but a dimple appeared at the corner of his mouth."Yet he remains a man who once held your affection," he said. "That cannot be undone by time."
"A regrettable one," I muttered.
Marcus drew in another slow breath through his nose, steadying himself the way a soldier might before a charge.
"This machine," he murmured, his voice low, "moves faster than any chariot I have ever ridden. It is as though Vulcan himself had been chained beneath it."
I squeezed his hand. "It's normal," I said gently. "You'll get used to it."
But before he could answer, movement down the carriage caught my eye.
My stomach dropped.
At the far end of the aisle, the door between the cars slid open and a tall figure stepped through, followed by another.
For a moment, he simply stood there, scanning the carriage with the quiet patience of a hunger. Detective Garrick and his partner, Josephine, again.
If there was one thing about that man, I swear, it was his persistence. Once he set his sights on something, he did not let go. Like a hound.
My fingers tightened instinctively around Marcus's hand.
"He has made it abroad, has he not?" Marcus murmured under his breath.
Before I could answer, a train officer approached Garrick. "Tickets, sir?"
Garrick barely spared him a glance before flashing his badge. "I don't need one," he said curtly. "Detective. I'm conducting an investigation. There's a wanted criminal on this train."
The silence of the first-class carriage fractured immediately.
Passengers began murmuring among themselves, some craning their necks to look down the aisle. This carriage was supposed to be the silent one. People who chose this carriage had opted for the silence, insulated from exactly this kind of disruption.
And Garrick had spoken just loud enough for everyone to hear.
The officer's expression hardened. "Be that as it may," he said evenly, you're still required to have a valid ticket to enter this carriage."
Garrick's jaw tightened. "There is a dangerous suspect on board," he insisted.
"And unless you have an arrest warrant," the officer replied coolly, "you are not authorized to conduct a search here. Certainly not while the train is in motion."
For a brief moment, neither of them moved.
Marcus leaned slightly closer to me.
"Is there a way to leave this place?" he murmured quietly. "We will not be able to outrun him here."
My gaze drifted toward the far end of the carriage, where Garrick was still arguing with the officer. "How did he even find us this quickly?" I muttered, more to myself than to him.
Marcus's eyes followed mine, sharp and calculating.
"Your hunter," he said under his breath, "is like a relentless hound."
"You're right," I whispered, turning back to him. Slowly, I released my hold on his hand and looked up at him. "We have to get out of here."
Garrick was nowhere in sight. Either the officer had forced him out of the First Class carriage, or he had been pushed back to a seat with his partner.
I didn't dare to sneak another look. Even without seeing him, I could still feel it. That prickling sensation of being watched, as though his eyes were already pointed at the back of our heads.
"Is there such a way?" Marcus asked quietly, his brow furrowing as the train surged forward again. The sheer speed of it still unsettled him as I tried subtly shifting lower in my seat, trying to remain unnoticed.
"You realize," he murmured close to my ear, his voice low, "that no matter how carefully you attempt to conceal yourself, you are not a woman easily overlooked."
I narrowed my eyes at him.
He only allowed himself a faint smirk.
I rolled my eyes and turned my attention toward the digital sign at the end of the carriage, where the announcement flickered across the screen.
Next stop approaching.
My eyes locked onto the name.
"York," I murmured.
My pulse quickened.
"That's our way out."
When the train finally slowed into the station, only a few passengers rose from their seats. But I didn't. Instead, I waited.
One second.
Two.
My heart hammered against my ribs, adrenaline pounding through me like war drums.
Then I reached up and grabbed our bags from the rack.
Marcus rose immediately, taking them from my hands as we slipped into the small crowd moving toward the doors.
"Hey!" Garrick's voice cut through the carriage. "Hey! Elena! Elena, wait!"
My stomach dropped.
"Stop the train, officer!" Josephine shouted behind us. "Police business!"
The train officer only shook his head. "Sorry. Can't do that. We're about to depart."
The doors slid open, and we stepped onto the platform.
Cold air hit my face, and behind us—
"Hey!"
Garrick burst through the crowd and grabbed the strap of Marcus's bag.
For a split second, we were yanked back. Then the doors began to close, as Marcus jerked himself forward with much force, causing Garrick to lose his footing and slammed face-first against the glass, as the doors sealed shut between us.
His fist struck the window.
"Fuck!" he roared. "I'll find you, you filthy bastard! Mark my fucking words!"
The train lurched forward.
But Garrick kept pounding on the glass, shouting my name as the carriage began to slide down the platform. "Elena! Elena! Get away from him!"
I stood there frozen.
My chest tightened as the train carried him away.
Then a firm arm wrapped around my shoulders.
Marcus turned me away from the departing train and steered me toward the flow of commuters leaving the station. Our steps quickening until we blended with the moving crowd. All while he held me protectively around him.
"One lesson you must learn about battle, Elena," he murmured, his dark gaze fixed ahead. "You keep moving. You do not stop. If you do—" His voice lowered. "You die."
I nodded numbly.
"Now," he said, scanning the station. "Where do we go?"
And only then did I finally snap back to myself.