Chapter 15: The Edge of Darkness

The world was a haze of pain and muffled sounds. Jenny floated between consciousness and oblivion, her body heavy, her mind sluggish. Distantly, she was aware of movement—strong hands lifting her, voices shouting, the metallic scent of blood thick in the air.

She tried to open her eyes, but they refused to obey. Everything was slipping away, the pain dragging her under like a tide.

Then—Marcus’s voice.

Low. Desperate.

“Stay with me, Jenny.”

She wanted to.

But the darkness was stronger.

When Jenny finally surfaced, the first thing she noticed was the warmth. A soft bed beneath her. The faint scent of leather and smoke.

Her eyelids felt like lead as she forced them open. The room around her was dimly lit, the glow of a lamp casting shadows against dark walls. It wasn’t the warehouse. It wasn’t her tiny apartment.

She was somewhere else.

Somewhere safe.

A sharp pain flared in her side as she shifted, drawing a low gasp from her lips. Immediately, there was movement beside her.

Marcus.

He was sitting in a chair near the bed, his posture tense, his eyes burning with something raw. His suit jacket was gone, his sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms dusted with blood—her blood.

“Jenny.” His voice was rough, strained.

She swallowed, her throat dry. “What… happened?”

His jaw clenched. “You got shot.”

She let out a weak breath, memories crashing back. The warehouse. The gunfire. Romano’s smirk.

The burning pain.

Jenny swallowed hard, her fingers instinctively reaching toward her bandaged side. “How bad is it?”

Marcus’s gaze darkened. “Bad enough.”

She studied him, noticing the exhaustion etched into his features. The tension in his shoulders. The way his hand clenched and unclenched as if he were barely holding himself together.

“How long was I out?” she asked.

“Two days.”

Her breath hitched. Two days?

She struggled to sit up, but Marcus was there instantly, his hands catching her shoulders, steadying her. “Don’t.” His voice was low, but firm. “You need to rest.”

Jenny hesitated before nodding, sinking back into the pillows.

A heavy silence stretched between them.

Then—

“You could have died.”

His words were quiet, but they cut through the air like a blade.

Jenny looked up, finding his gaze locked onto her, filled with something she couldn’t quite name. Something dark.

“I know.”

Marcus exhaled sharply, his fingers raking through his hair. “This is my fault.”

She frowned. “No, it’s not—”

“Yes, it is.” His voice was edged with frustration, with guilt. “Romano did this to get to me.”

Jenny hesitated. She wanted to argue, to tell him that she had made her own choices, that she had stepped into this world knowing the risks. But she could see it in his eyes—he wasn’t just angry.

He was afraid.

Not of Romano.

Not of the war brewing between them.

But of losing her.

Her heart clenched.

“Marcus…” she started, but he shook his head.

“I should have killed him that night,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “I should have put a bullet in his skull instead of playing by the rules.”

Jenny studied him, taking in the sharp angles of his face, the tension in his jaw.

This was different.

She had seen Marcus angry before. Had seen him ruthless, dangerous.

But this—this was personal.

She reached out, her fingers brushing against his hand.

He stilled.

His gaze snapped to hers, something flickering behind his dark eyes.

“I’m still here,” she whispered.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, slowly, his fingers curled around hers. His grip was strong, warm.

Grounding.

Jenny’s pulse quickened.

Marcus wasn’t just some crime lord, some untouchable force of power.