Page 37 of Marked to Be Mine (Erased #1)

I’d never heard him like this—raw emotion breaking through his careful restraints. It was like seeing a new man entirely.

“They were breaking you apart,” he continued, shaking his head, as if he was trying to chase away the image of me from his mind.

“Taking you away piece by piece. They had tubes in your arms, pumping that blue poison into you while Brock stood there taking notes like some fucking scientist with a lab rat.”

His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, and his knuckles were white and straining.

“Your body kept fighting the restraints. Your skin was turning that sick blue color. And your eyes...” His voice caught. “Your eyes looked right through me, not seeing anything.” He turned away, shoulders rigid. A moment of silence followed as he inhaled deeply. “If I’d been ten minutes late…”

More silence. I wanted to reach over to him, to comfort him, but I was still far too weak to move. Besides, I didn’t want to push any boundaries right now. I stared at him, and the silence between us seemed to stretch into an eternity before I finally spoke again .

“If our positions were reversed,” I said quietly, “would you have done anything different?” He didn’t answer, but his shoulders dropped slightly.

“Xavier is the only family I have left.” My throat tightened around the words.

“And you…” I struggled to continue. “I couldn’t lose you both.

” He turned back, his face a battlefield of anger and something deeper, more vulnerable.

“I made the only choice I could live with,” I finished.

“I had to help my brother…and they had taken so much from you already. I couldn’t let them take the last remains of your humanity, too.

Not when you’d come so far.” The anger drained from his posture.

His eyes, still haunted, searched mine. “A week ago, you were hunting me,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. “And now…”

“Now?” he prompted when I trailed off.

“Now I can’t imagine...” I stopped, surprised by the intensity of what I’d been about to say.

He moved back to the bed, sitting closer this time. “I know,” he said. “It shouldn’t be possible.”

His thumb traced small circles against my palm.

“I’ve never had this before,” he admitted. “Whatever this is. I didn’t even know it was possible.”

“Neither have I. Not like this.” I met his eyes. “Is it real? Or just the trauma talking?”

“Does it matter?” he asked, genuinely wanting an answer.

I thought about it, about the way my heart raced when he touched me—not from fear anymore, but something entirely different. Perhaps we met each other in the most unusual circumstances, but it felt like a less important detail right now. All that mattered was that he was here, right by my side .

“No,” I said finally. “I don’t think it does.”

Another violent tremor shook through me, and this time it wasn’t just my hands. My entire body seemed to vibrate with the aftereffects of Brock’s compound.

Without hesitation, Reaper moved fully onto the bed beside me. His arms encircled me, careful of the IV line, pulling me against his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured against my hair.

I should have felt trapped. Instead, I melted into him, fingers clutching at his shirt. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear anchored me.

“I can still feel it,” I whispered. “The blue compound… breaking me apart.”

His arms tightened around me. “I know,” he said, and of course he did. He knew exactly what I was experiencing. “Focus on my voice. My touch. It helps push back the chemical echoes.”

I nodded, pressing closer. The solid warmth of his body against mine created a barrier between me and the poison still lingering in my system.

His scent—gunpowder, soap, and something uniquely him—filled my senses, overriding the phantom smell of antiseptic that had haunted me since waking.

I closed my eyes, letting myself get lost in the sensation of him next to me rather than the chaos inside me.

At that moment, I understood that something fundamental had shifted between us. Beyond attraction. Beyond shared danger.

Whatever was forming between us had roots now .

As the tremors subsided, neither of us moved to break apart.

“Tell me what happened,” I said finally. “How did you find me?”

He stiffened slightly, and when he spoke, his voice had changed—became more measured, as if he was trying to distance himself from the memory. I opened my eyes, looking up at him.

“I accessed the facility beneath Café Bella. Disabled security systems. Created diversions using emergency protocols.” The words came mechanically, like a mission report.

His hand, still entwined with mine, tightened unconsciously. The contrast between his clinical reporting and physical response told me everything.

“The medical wing was…” His voice faltered, gaze shifting.

“The antiseptic smell hit me first. That smell that never leaves you.” He stopped completely, jaw tightening.

I watched his pupils dilate, his breathing pattern shifting.

“It was like being back there myself,” he said finally.

“Every detail was exactly the same. The light. The equipment. The restraints.”

His hand moved unconsciously to his own wrist, fingers circling the spot where restraints would have been.

“I saw you there,” he said, dropping all pretense of tactical reporting. “And something broke inside me.” He looked down at his hands. “I killed everyone in that room except Brock. Not because it was tactically sound, but because they were hurting you. ”

The admission hung between us. In another life, I might have been horrified. Now, I only felt a terrible understanding.

“There were twelve of them,” he continued. “Medical staff. Guards. I remember their faces. I remember making each decision. But it wasn’t calculated. It was...”

“Instinct,” I finished for him. “To protect.”

His eyes met mine, surprised. “Yes.”

“When they had me strapped down,” I said slowly, “I kept thinking about you. Not Xavier. You.” The confession cost me, but he deserved to hear it. “I was more afraid of never seeing you again than of what they were doing to me.”

Something raw and vulnerable crossed his face. His hand lifted to my cheek, a touch so gentle it was barely there. His thumb caressed my cheek, and I leaned into his palm, my eyes closing briefly at the contact.

When I opened them again, he watched me with an intensity that made my breath catch. The controlled assassin was gone, replaced by a man fighting his way back to humanity—through me.

“I need to tell you something,” I said, fighting the exhaustion dragging at me. “About Xavier—they call him Blackout now. And about Oblivion.”

His expression sharpened. “Oblivion?”

“That’s what Brock called their organization. The one behind the Marionette Project.” The words felt heavy on my tongue, weighted with importance. “Xavier is completely conditioned. He didn’t even recognize me.”

Reaper’s face hardened. “We’ll find him. We’ll bring him back. ”

I wanted to believe him, but exhaustion was winning. “How?” I managed.

“The same way you’re bringing me back,” he said, voice low and certain. “One memory at a time.”

I wanted to believe that was possible, but given their improvements to his program…

No, don’t think about that, I scolded myself internally.

I had to hold onto hope. It was the last thing I had left.

Without it, I had nothing to hope for when it came to saving my brother.

Darkness crept at the edges of my vision.

I felt myself slipping toward unconsciousness, and panic surged through me—irrational and overwhelming. My hand clutched his.

“Stay,” I whispered, hating the vulnerability but too tired to mask it. “Just until I fall asleep.”

I expected him to pull away with some tactical reason why he needed to check the perimeter. Instead, his eyes softened in a way I’d never seen before.

He shifted to lie beside me, movements measured to avoid jostling the IV line. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as I was drawn against him, my head finding the hollow of his shoulder.

“Sleep,” he murmured, his lips brushing my forehead. “I’ve got you.”

I wanted to tell him that was what terrified me—how quickly he’d become my definition of safety. But as his fingers traced gentle patterns against my spine, the darkness pulled me under before I could form the words.