CHAPTER 7 — Marcus Comes Home
CHAPTER 7 — Marcus Comes Home
Marcus returned to the Torino mansion before dawn.
Not because he was brave.
Because he knew the house better than anyone still alive.
The estate was surrounded by federal cars, but Marcus had designed more than one escape route during his years under Vincent’s roof.
He entered through the old servant tunnel beneath the rose garden, blood dried at his lip, rage burning behind his eyes.
Everything was gone.
His plan.
His allies.
His future.
Solano arrested. Voss exposed. The docks raided.
And Vincent still breathing.
Marcus moved through the walls of the mansion like a ghost with a knife in his heart.
He reached Vincent’s private office and opened the panel behind the bookshelves.
Inside was the one thing nobody else knew about.
Not money.
Not weapons.
Not ledgers.
A wooden box filled with letters.
Vincent’s letters to his dead brother.
Marcus’s father.
For years, Vincent had written to him on the anniversary of his death.
Marcus had found them when he was sixteen.
He had read every word.
At first, they made him cry.
Later, they made him hate.
Because in those letters, Vincent confessed the truth Marcus could never forgive.
He had promised Marcus’s father he would raise him as his own.
But he also wrote something else.
The boy is brilliant, but there is a hunger in him I do not know how to feed.
Marcus had never forgotten that.
A hunger.
That was what Vincent saw when he looked at him.
Not a son.
Not an heir.
A warning.
Marcus opened the box and took the final letter, the one dated two weeks earlier.
He read it under the dim desk lamp.
Brother, I have failed your son. I mistook obedience for love and ambition for strength. Marcus wants my throne, but I fear he has never wanted my heart.
Marcus’s hand trembled.
Then he laughed.
A broken, ugly sound.
The office door opened.
Vincent stood there.
No guards.
No agents.
No gun in his hand.
Only exhaustion.
Marcus slowly folded the letter.
“How did you know I’d come here?”
Vincent stepped inside.
“Because pain always goes home first.”
Marcus’s eyes shone.
“You don’t get to sound wise now.”
“I know.”
“You turned me into this.”
Vincent shook his head.
“I helped. That is not the same as full blame.”
Marcus’s face twisted.
“You gave Aria freedom. You gave Elena trust. You gave Bruno loyalty. What did you give me?”
Vincent answered quietly.
“Power.”
Marcus laughed bitterly.
“Exactly.”
Outside the window, federal lights flashed through the rain.
Vincent did not look away from Marcus.
“I thought power would protect you.”
“No. You thought power would make me useful.”
That landed.
Vincent sat slowly in the chair across from the desk.
Marcus stared.
“You’re sitting?”
“I’m tired.”
“You should be afraid.”
“I am.”
Marcus looked confused.
Vincent continued.
“I’m afraid of what I helped create. I’m afraid your father would hate me. I’m afraid I loved you badly and called it training.”
For a moment, Marcus looked like the boy from the funeral again.
Then his face hardened.
“Too late.”
“Yes.”
Vincent’s voice broke slightly.
“It is too late to undo it. But it is not too late to stop.”
Marcus pulled a gun from beneath the desk.
Vincent did not move.
“You knew that was there,” Marcus said.
“Yes.”
“And you came anyway?”
“Yes.”
Marcus’s hand shook.
“You want me to kill you?”
“No.”
“Then what do you want?”
Vincent looked at him with a grief Marcus could not bear.
“I want you to choose one thing in your life that is not revenge.”
Marcus’s breathing changed.
For a second, the room balanced on the edge of a miracle.
Then Aria’s voice came from the doorway.
“Marcus, please.”
Marcus swung the gun toward her.
Vincent moved instantly, stepping between them.
“Don’t.”
Marcus’s face collapsed with rage.
“You always choose her!”
Vincent said, “I choose not to lose another child.”
Elena appeared behind Aria, weapon raised.
Bruno stood beside her.
Agent Cross moved in from the hall.
Marcus was surrounded.
But his gun stayed on Vincent.
Tears slid down Marcus’s face now, surprising even him.
“You should have loved me before I became useful.”
Vincent whispered, “Yes.”
Marcus’s finger tightened.
Then Elena spoke.
“My father lost everything because of you. And I hated you for it.”
Marcus looked at her.
Elena lowered her weapon slightly.
“But if you pull that trigger, you don’t become powerful. You become finished.”
Marcus laughed through tears.
“I’m already finished.”
“No,” Aria said softly. “You’re caught. That’s different.”
The words filled the room.
Caught.
Not dead.
Not erased.
Not beyond human reach.
Marcus looked at the gun in his hand like he did not recognize it.
Then Vincent stepped closer.
“Give it to me.”
Marcus stared at him.
“You’ll forgive me?”
Vincent’s face tightened.
“No.”
Marcus flinched.
“But I will not let you die in this room.”
The honesty broke something.
Marcus lowered the gun.
For one breath, everyone thought it was over.
Then a shot rang out.
Not from Marcus.
From the window.
Glass exploded.
Vincent fell.
May you like
Marcus screamed.
And outside the mansion, one of Solano’s last loyal men ran into the trees.
