Page 27 of Marked to Be Mine (Erased #1)

None of the words he was saying made sense. I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Spector could tell I needed more explanation, though.

“Antagonist for handler protection,” he explained, lifting one syringe to examine it. “Not designed for us. No idea what it would do in a Prima’s system, especially with conditioning compounds already in play.”

He extended the syringe toward me. “It’s your decision.

I can’t guarantee it will work. It might even accelerate the process—there’s no precedent for using this with a Prima generation subject receiving a conditioning compound.

Any generation or agent, to be honest. I can tell you one thing, though.

If they get their hands on him…his fate will be far worse than whatever this can do. ”

I looked at Reaper, at the blue-black poison creeping closer to his brain with each passing second. His body continued to convulse, though the movements were growing weaker—energy depleting as the compound stole whatever made him himself.

I thought of the man who’d made love to me just hours ago. The man who had fought through years of conditioning to feel something real again. Who had taken a bullet meant for me.

“What would you do?” I asked Specter. “If it was someone you… cared about?”

Something vulnerable passed across his face—a look of confusion followed by pain. “I don’t remember caring about anyone.” He looked down at Reaper, then back at me. “But I remember wanting someone to try. To help me.” His voice dropped. “I would want someone to try.”

There was no choice. No real decision. Only desperation.

I took the syringe from Specter’s hand, removed the cap, and found a vein in Reaper’s arm that wasn’t yet blackened by the spreading toxin.

With one last prayer to whatever god might be listening, I slid the needle into his skin and pressed the plunger, watching the milky substance disappear into his bloodstream.

For several seconds, nothing happened.

Then everything happened at once.

His body went rigid—more rigid than before, if that was possible.

His back arched off the bed, jaw clenched so tight I heard a tooth crack.

A guttural sound escaped his throat, primal and agonized.

Fuck. Had I made the wrong choice? My hands shook as I stared at him, but I didn’t dare step closer, as if one wrong move would somehow only shatter him further.

“Is this normal?” I asked, panic rising in my voice .

Specter leaned closer, watching intently. “I’ve never seen it used like this. Neither has anyone.” His voice held a hint of fascination beneath the concern.

Reaper’s convulsions intensified, then abruptly ceased. His body dropped back to the mattress like a puppet with cut strings. The blue-black lines pulsing beneath his skin seemed to slow their advance, though they didn’t recede.

“Now we wait,” Specter said, checking Reaper’s pulse again.

I collapsed into the chair beside the bed, exhaustion and fear catching up to me.

“Brock called before you arrived. He said that if I don’t bring Reaper, he will kill my brother.

” Even if I managed to save Reaper…how would I save my brother?

My eyes welled up, heart pounding inside my chest. With one problem somewhat handled, my focus shifted to Xavier.

Specter’s shoulders tensed, and something dark flashed across his face—a shadow of anger or memory.

“He showed me video proof.” My voice cracked.

“He said if I don’t deliver Reaper to him within two hours, he’ll kill Xavier.

Execute him on video and send me the footage. ”

“Brock isn’t one for empty threats.” Specter’s voice hardened, eyes fixed on something I couldn’t see. “He enjoys demonstrating his power too much to bluff about using it.”

I buried my face in my hands, trying to think through the fog of exhaustion and fear. “I have to meet him.”

“That would be a mistake.” Specter’s voice sharpened. “You’re walking into a trap with no escape.”

“I don’t have a choice!” I snapped, looking up at him. “My brother is all I have left. ”

“You have more than you think.” Something almost human flashed in Specter’s eyes. “Brock doesn’t negotiate releases—he only acquires assets. He’s playing you to get both of you. Once he has you, there’s no getting out. You will not save your brother. You’ll only end up in the same boat as him.”

He moved to the window, his movements eerily silent. He parted the curtain slightly, scanning the street below. “The recovery odds after capture are almost nonexistent. Your brother’s already gone through initial conditioning. You’d be next.”

“I have to try.” I stood, gathering my meager belongings. “I won’t let Xavier die because of me.”

Specter watched me, something calculating but not entirely cold in his silver eyes. I could almost see the tactical assessments running through his mind, alongside something more complex—perhaps a memory of his own captivity.

“Where is the meeting?” he finally asked.

“Vila Madalena. In front of some café.” I checked my phone.

His eyebrows rose slightly, the first natural expression I’d seen. “Public location? That’s… not standard protocol.” He frowned. “Multiple extraction points, high civilian presence. It’s either tactically brilliant or a serious deviation from procedure.”

“Is that good or bad?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, and for a moment he seemed almost vulnerable in his uncertainty. “It could be a trap within a trap, or…” He paused. “Or someone’s improvising. Either way, it’s dangerous.”

He didn’t answer directly. Instead, he pulled the metal case toward him and held out another syringe. “This might protect you if they try to drug you with the same compound. And they will, from what you said.”

I stared at the syringe. “What will it do?”

“It may create temporary resistance to the initial conditioning compounds.” He held it out. “I suggest you inject it before the meeting.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. “What are the side effects?”

“Hard to predict in someone without prior conditioning.” He ran a hand through his dark hair—a surprisingly human gesture. “Could be nausea, disorientation, hallucinations. Could be nothing. As I said before, I’ve never seen its results.”

Despite his matter-of-fact tone, I caught a flicker of genuine concern in his eyes. “It’s a risk. But so is going in without protection.”

I swallowed hard, taking the syringe. “Great.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Specter said, nodding toward Reaper. “Try to stabilize his condition.”

“Thank you.” I tucked the syringe carefully into my pocket.

Specter moved suddenly, closing the distance between us before I could react. His hand brushed my hair aside, and I felt a sharp pinch behind my ear.

“What the hell?” I jerked away .

“Tracking implant,” he said, stepping back quickly. “Microscopic, undetectable by standard scans. Limited range, but enough to follow you if things go wrong.”

“You could have asked first,” I snapped, rubbing at my ear.

Something like embarrassment crossed his face. “I’m… still working on the social protocols. Asking seemed…” He paused, searching for the word. “Inefficient. Sorry.”

The apology sounded rusty, unpracticed, but genuine. I nodded, as if to say, apology accepted.

“If you’re not back in the next few hours and if Reaper hasn’t woken up, I’ll have to move him and assume you’re captured.

” Specter met my eyes directly. “I don’t know if I’ll even be able to intervene on my own.

Once they have you in a black site, not even I can get you out.

” I swallowed, giving him another nod. I knew what he was doing—he was presenting all the risk, and allowing me to make an informed decision.

It didn’t change my decision though. I had to go. I had no other choice.

“Once you’re in a conditioning facility, extraction becomes practically impossible,” he said quietly. “Even for me. Especially alone.”

The brutal honesty made my stomach sink. “Understood.”

I looked back at Reaper, his face slack and pale against the pillow. I wanted to stay until he woke up—if he woke up—but Xavier’s time was running out.

I leaned down, brushed my lips against Reaper’s burning forehead. “Come back,” I whispered. “I can’t do this alone.”

“Keep him alive,” I told Specter. It wasn’t quite a request, not quite a demand .

He gave a single nod. “Take the northeastern exit and avoid main streets. You have cameras on both corners. There’s a service corridor they don’t monitor as heavily.”

I couldn’t wait any longer. My hands trembled as I pulled the syringe from my pocket, yanked up my sleeve, and jabbed the needle into my arm before I could overthink it. The sharp sting made me flinch, but I pushed the plunger down, injecting whatever counteragent Specter had given me.

Nothing happened. No rush of relief, no sudden clarity, no magical antidote effect. Just the same heavy dread sitting in my stomach.

As I reached the door, he spoke again. “Durham.” His voice had changed—something softer in it, almost hesitant. “Reaper. He means something to you, doesn’t he?” The question hung between us, unexpected and strangely personal, coming from someone like Specter.

I turned back. “Yes. He does.”

Specter nodded slowly, a flicker of something like longing crossing his face. “Then I’ll keep him alive. Not because of mission parameters or tactical advantage.” He looked down at Reaper. “Because he matters to someone. That should count for something.”

I gathered my courage, took one last look at Reaper, and headed for the door.